1969
Melvin
pressed his face between two bars and surveyed a row of prisoners. “Which one of you is my preacher?” he asked.
Five
men sat leaning against the wall of the jail.
Four of them bunched on one side, leaving plenty of room for the
fifth. Melvin zeroed in on him. The man wore a black suit even though it was
the dead of summer. He sat up straight
and crossed one leg over the other.
“You
must be my lawyer, Mr. Little,” the man said.
“You
presume right. Listen, Reverend. We’ve got ourselves a problem.” Melvin motioned for his client to come
closer. When the Reverend failed to
move, he motioned harder. Reluctantly,
the Reverend stood and strolled over to the row of bars separating him from his
attorney. “The prosecutor has a witness
against you,” Melvin whispered.
“Impossible,”
said the Reverend, not bothering to conceal his voice.
“It
is possible,” Melvin said. “And that
means trouble for you and trouble for me.
If you go to jail for murder, you don’t collect insurance money, which
means I don’t get paid.”
“You’ll
get your money,” the Reverend said.
“I
hope I do,” said Melvin.
The Reverend looked his attorney in the eye. “I
did not kill my wife,” he said.
“Can
you back that up?” Melvin asked.
“I
was at a revival meeting in Macon County when she was killed. I didn’t arrive home until the afternoon she
was found.”
“Well,
then, if you could just provide me with a list of names of people willing to
testify that they saw you at this revival meeting that would be helpful.”
The
Reverend fell silent.
“I
didn’t think so,” Melvin said. “I hope
you understand the seriousness of this situation. At this point, I’ll be lucky to get you a
life sentence.”
The
Reverend slowly spun around and paced toward the bench. The eyes of the other prisoners instantly
fell to the floor. “The righteous will
rejoice when he sees the vengeance. He
shall wash his feet in the blood of the wicked,” the Reverend said.
“What’s
that now?” Melvin asked.
“Psalm
58, verse 10,” said Reverend Baxter.
Melvin
checked over his shoulder and then looked at the row of prisoners sitting as quiet
as kittens. “Now you listen here,
Reverend. I’m all for my clients
spouting off a good Bible verse. I’ve
even been known to drop a few choice lines in the courtroom myself, but this
should be the last time I hear you say anything about bathing in people’s
blood, wicked or not.”
“You
would have me censor the word of God?” the Reverend asked.
“Be
more selective, that’s all. Pick one
that’ll make you look more sympathetic and less like a raging lunatic.”
“Do
you believe me when I say I’m innocent?”
“I
don’t care when you say you’re innocent.”
“I
could never defend the wicked,” the Reverend said.
“Wicked
or not, that’s none of my business,” Melvin said. “We have a system in place that says people
are innocent until proven guilty. It’s
my job to provide them with competent counsel, regardless of guilt. And as near as I can tell, it’s gonna be your
job to prevent the prosecutor from finding any evidence that proves you
guilty. Now, do we understand each
other?”
“Perfectly.”
“Good. Now let’s get you out of jail.”
Further Reading: The Compelling Story Harper Lee
Never Wrote; Harper Lee Manuscript Found?; Harper Lee's Next Book;
Protecting Harper Lee; Comparing the First Chapters of
Go Set a Watchman and To Kill a Mockingbird;
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