jg.atimetokill-第86部分

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ak。〃
　〃And　in　your　rational；　civilized；　and　passionate　mind；　what　do　you　think　we　should　do　with　them？〃
　〃Hang　them　by　their　toes；　castrate　them；　and　let　them　bleed　to　death；　without　a　trial。〃
　〃And　the　way　you　understand　the　law；　that　would　be　constitutional？〃
　〃Maybe　not；　but　it'd　stop　a　lot　of　child　pornography　and　terrorism。　Jake；　are　you　gonna　eat　this　sandwich？〃
　〃No。〃
　Harry　Rex　unwrapped　a　ham　and　cheese。　〃Stay　away　from　number　one；　Carlene　Malone。　She's　one　of　those　Malones　from　Lake　Village。　White　trash　and　mean　as　hell。〃
　〃I'd　like　to　stay　away　from　this　entire　panel；〃　Jake　said；　still　staring　at　the　table。
　〃We　got　a　terrible　draw。〃
　〃Whatta　you　think；　Row　Ark？〃　Jake　asked。
　Harry　Rex　swallowed　quickly。　〃I　think　we　oughtta　plead
　him　guilty　and　get　the　hell　outta　there。　Run　like　a　scalded　dog。〃
　Ellen　stared　at　the　cards。　〃It　could　be　worse。〃
　Harry　Rex　forced　a　loud　laugh。　〃Worse！　The　only　way　it　could　be　worse　would　be　if　the　first　thirty　were　sitting　there　wearing　white　robes　with　pointed　hats　and　little　masks。〃
　〃Harry　Rex；　would　you　shut　up；〃　Jake　said。
　〃Just　trying　to　help。　Do　you　want　your　french　fries？〃
　〃No。　Why　don't　you　put　all　of　them　in　your　mouth　and　chew　on　them　for　a　long　time？〃
　〃I　think　you're　wrong　about　some　of　these　women；〃　Ellen　said。　〃I'm　inclined　to　agree　with　Lucien。　Women；　as　a　very　general　rule；　will　have　more　sympathy。　We're　the　ones　who　get　raped；　remember？〃
　〃I　have　no　response　to　that；〃　Harry　Rex　said。
　〃Thanks；〃　replied　Jake。　〃Which　one　of　these　girls　is　your　former　client　who'll　supposedly　do　anything　for　you　if　you'll　simply　wink　at　her？〃
　Ellen　snickered。　〃Must　be　number　twenty…nine。　She's　five　feet　tall　and　weighs　four　hundred　pounds。〃
　Harry　Rex　wiped　his　mouth　with　a　sheet　of　paper。　〃Very　funny。　Number　seventy…four。　She's　too　far　back。　Forget　her。〃
　Noose　rapped　his　gavel　at　two　and　the　courtroom　came　to　order。
　〃The　State　may　examine　the　panel；〃　he　said。
　The　magnificent　district　attorney　rose　slowly　and　walked　importantly　to　the　bar；　where　he　stood　and　gazed　pensively　at　the　spectators　and　jurors。　He　realized　the　artists　were　sketching　him；　and　he　seemed　to　pose　for　just　a　moment。　He　smiled　sincerely　at　the　jurors；　then　introduced　himself。　He　explained　that　he　was　the　people's　lawyer；　his　client；　the　State　of　Mississippi。　He　had　served　as　their　prosecutor　for　nine　years　now；　and　it　was　an　honor　for　which　he　would　always　be　grateful　to　the　fine　folks　of　Ford　County。　He　pointed　at　them　and　told　them　that　they；　the　very　ones　sitting　there；　were　the　folks　who　had　elected　him　to　represent　them。　He　thanked　them；　and　hoped　he　did　not　let　them　down。
　Yes；　he　was　nervous　and　frightened。　He　had　prosecuted
　thousands　of　criminals；　but　he　was　always　scared　with　each　trial。　Yes！　He　was　scared；　and　not　ashamed　to　admit　it。　Scared　because　of　the　awesome　responsibility　the　people　had　bestowed　upon　him　as　the　man　responsible　for　sending　criminals　to　jail　and　protecting　the　people。　Scared　because　he　might　fail　to　adequately　represent　his　client；　the　people　of　this　great　state。
　Jake　had　heard　all　this　crap　many　times　before。　He　had　it　memorized。　Buckley　the　good　guy；　the　state's　lawyer；　united　with　the　people　to　seek　justice；　to　save　society。　He　was　a　smooth；　gifted　orator　who　one　moment　could　chat　softly　with　a　jury；　much　like　a　grandfather　giving　advice　to　his　grandchildren。　The　next　moment　he　would　launch　into　a　tirade　and　deliver　a　sermon　that　any　black　preacher　would　envy。　A　split　second　later；　in　a　fluid　burst　of　eloquence；　he　could　convince　a　jury　that　the　stability　of　our　society；　yes；　even　the　future　of　the　human　race；　depended　upon　a　guilty　verdict。　He　was　at　his　best　in　big　trials；　and　this　was　his　biggest。　He　spoke　without　notes；　and　held　the　courtroom　captivated　as　he　portrayed　himself　as　the　underdog；　the　friend　and　partner　of　the　jury；　who；　together　with　him；　would　find　the　truth；　and　punish　this　man　for　his　monstrous　deed。
　After　ten　minutes；　Jake　had　enough。　He　stood　with　a　frustrated　look。　〃Your　Honor；　I　object　to　this。　Mr。　Buckley　is　not　selecting　a　jury。　I'm　not　sure　what　he's　doing；　but　he's　not　interrogating　the　panel。〃
　〃Sustained！〃　Noose　yelled　into　the　mike。　〃If　you　don't　have　any　questions　for　the　panel；　Mr。　Buckley；　then　please　sit　down。〃
　〃I　apologize；　Your　Honor；〃　Buckley　said　awkwardly；　pretending　to　be　hurt。　Jake　had　drawn　first　blood。
　Buckley　picked　up　a　legal　pad　and　launched　into　a　list　of　a　thousand　questions。　He　asked　if　anyone　on　the　panel　had　ever　served　on　a　jury　before。　Several　hands　went　up。　Civil　or　criminal？　Did　you　vote　to　acquit　or　convict？　How　long　ago？　Was　the　defendant　black　or　white？　Victim；　black　or　white？　Had　anyone　been　the　victim　of　a　violent　crime？　Two　hands。　When？　Where？　Was　the　assailant　caught？　Convicted？　Black　or　white？　Jake；　Harry　Rex；　and　Ellen　took　pages　of　notes。　Any　member　of　your　family　been　the　victim
　of　a　violent　crime？　Several　more　hands。　When？　Where？　What　happened　to　the　criminal？　Any　member　of　your　family　ever　been　charged　with　a　crime？　Indicted？　Put　on　trial？　Convicted？　Any　friends　or　family　members　employed　in　law　enforcement？　Who？　Where？
　For　three　nonstop　hours　Buckley　probed　and　picked　like　a　surgeon。　He　was　masterful。　The　preparation　was　obvious。　He　asked　questions　that　Jake　had　not　considered。　And　he　asked　virtually　every　question　Jake　had　written　in　his　outline。　He　delicately　pried　details　of　personal　feelings　and　opinions。　And　when　the　time　was　right；　he　would　say　something　funny　so　everyone　could　laugh　and　relieve　the　tension。　He　held　the　courtroom　in　his　palm；　and　when　Noose　stopped　him　at　five　o'clock　he　was　in　full　stride。　He　would　finish　in　the　morning。
　His　Honor　adjourned　until　nine　the　next　morning。　Jake　talked　to　his　client　for　a　few　moments　while　the　crowd　moved　toward　the　rear。　Ozzie　stood　nearby　with　the　handcuffs。　When　Jake　finished；　Carl　Lee　knelt　before　his　family　on　the　front　row　and　hugged　them　all。　He　would　see　them　tomorrow；　he　said。　Ozzie　led　him　into　the　holding　room　and　down　the　stairs；　where　a　swarm　of　deputies　waited　to　take　him　to　jail。
　For　Day　TWo　the　sun　rose　quickly　in　the　east　and　in　seconds　burned　the　dew　off　the　thick　green　Bermuda　around　the　Ford　County　Courthouse。　A　sticky；　invisible　fog　smoldered　from　the　grass　and　clung　to　the　heavy　boots　and　bulky　pants　of　the　soldiers。　The　sun　baked　them　as　they　nonchalantly　paced　the　sidewalks　of　downtown　Clanton。　They　loitered　under　shade　trees　and　the　canopies　of　small　shops。　By　the　time　breakfast　was　served　under　the　pavilions；　the　soldiers　had　stripped　to　their　pale　green　undershirts　and　were　drenched　in　sweat。
　The　black　preachers　and　their　followers　went　directly　to　their　spot　and　set　up　camp。　They　unfolded　lawn　chairs　under　oak　trees'　and　placed　coolers　of　ice　water　on　card　tables。　Blue　and　white　FREE　CARL　LEE　placards　were　tacked　on　tomato　stakes　and　stuck　in　the　ground　like　neat　fencerows。　Agee　had　printed　some　new　posters　with　an　enlarged　black　and　white　photo　of　Carl　Lee　in　the　center　and　a　red；　white；　and　blue　border。　They　were　slick　and　professional。
　The　Klansmen　went　obediently　to　their　section　of　the　front　lawn。　They　brought　their　own　placards…white　backgrounds　with　bold　red　letters　screaming　FRY　CARL　LEE；　FRY　CARL　LEE。　They　waved　them　at　the　blacks　across　the　lawn；　and　the　two　groups　started　shouting。　The　soldiers　formed　neat　lines　along　the　sidewalk；　and　stood　armed　but　casual　as　obscenities　and　chants　flew　over　their　heads。　It　was　8：00　A。M。　of　Day　Two。
　The　reporters　were　giddy　with　all　the　newsworthiness。　They　rushed　to　the　front　lawn　when　the　yelling　started。　Oz…zie　and　the　colonel　walked　around　and　around　the　courthouse；　pointing　here　and　there　and　yelling　into　their　radios。
　At　nine；　Ichabod　said　good　morning　to　the　standing…room…only　crowd。　Buckley　stood　slowly　and　with　great　animation　informed　His　Honor　that　he　had　no　further　questions　for　the　panel。
　Lawyer　Brigance　rose　from　his　seat　with　rubber　knees
　and　turbulence　in　his　stomach。　He　walked　to　the　railing　and　gazed　into　the　anxious　eyes　of　ninety…four　prospective　jurors。
　The　crowd　listened　intently　to　this　young；　cocky　mouthpiece　who　had　once　boasted　of　never　having　lost　a　murder　case。　He