“I have one question, Lucien,” Jake said.
“What?”
“And I want a straight answer.”
“What?”
“Did you cut a deal with Sisco?”
“No, my boy, you won it on your own.”
“Do you swear?”
“I swear to God. On a stack of Bibles.”
Jake wanted to believe him, so he dropped it. They rode in silence, in the sweltering heat, and listened as Harry Rex sang along with the stereo. Suddenly, Jake pointed and yelled. Harry Rex slammed on the brakes, made a wild left turn, and sped down another gravel road.
“Where are we going?” Lucien demanded.
“Just hang on,” Jake said as he looked at a row of houses approaching on the right. He pointed to the second one, and Harry Rex pulled into the driveway and parked under a shade tree. Jake got out, looked around the front yard, and walked onto the porch. He knocked on the screen door.
A man appeared. A stranger. “Yeah, whatta you want?”
“I'm Jake Brigance, and—”
The door flew open, and the man rushed onto the porch and grabbed Jake's hand. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I'm Mack Loyd Crowell. I was on the grand jury that almost didn't indict. You done a real good job. I'm proud of you.”
Jake shook his hand and repeated his name. Then he remembered, Mack Loyd Crowell, the man who told Buckley to shut up and sit down in the grand jury. “Yeah, Mack Loyd, now I remember. Thanks.”
Jake looked awkwardly through the door.
“You lookin' for Wanda?” Crowell asked.
“Well, yes. I was just passing by, and remembered her address from the jury research.”
“You've come to the right place. She lives here, and I do too most of the time. We ain't married or nothing, but we go together. She's layin' down takin' a nap. She's pretty wore out.”
“Don't wake her,” Jake said.
“She told me what happened. She won it for you.”
“How? What happened?”
“She made them all close their eyes and listen to her. She told them to pretend that the little girl had blond hair and blue eyes, that the two rapists were black, that they tied her right foot to a tree and her left foot to a fence post, that they raped her repeatedly and cussed her because she was white. She told them to picture the little girl layin' there beggin' for her daddy while they kicked her in the mouth and knocked out her teeth, broke both jaws, broke her nose. She said to imagine two drunk blacks pouring beer on her and pissing in her face, and laughing like idiots. And then she told them to imagine that the little girl belonged to them—their daughter. She told them to be honest with themselves and to write on a piece of paper whether or not they would kill those black bastards if they got the chance. And they voted, by secret ballot. All twelve said they would do the killing. The foreman counted the votes. Twelve to zero. Wanda said she'd sit in that jury room until Christmas before she'd vote to convict, and if they were honest with themselves, then they ought to feel the same way. Ten of them agreed with her, and one lady held out. They all started cryin' and cussin' her so bad, she finally caved in. It was rough in there, Jake.”
Jake listened to every word without breathing. He heard a noise. Wanda Womack walked to the screen door. She smiled at him and began crying. He stared at her through the screen, but could not talk. He bit his lip and nodded. “Thanks,” he managed weakly. She wiped her eyes and nodded.
On Craft Road, a hundred cars lined both shoulders east and west of the Hailey driveway. The long front yard was packed with vehicles, children playing, and parents sitting under shade trees and on car hoods. Harry Rex parked in a ditch by the mailbox. A crowd rushed to greet Carl Lee's lawyer. Lester grabbed him and said, “You done it again, you done it again.”
They shook hands and slapped backs across the yard and up to the porch. Agee hugged him and praised God. Carl Lee left the swing and walked down the steps, followed by his family and admirers. They gathered around Jake as the two great men came face to face. They clutched hands and smiled at each other, both searching for words. They embraced. The crowd clapped and shouted.
“Thank you, Jake,” Carl Lee said softly.
The lawyer and client sat in the swing and answered questions about the trial. Lucien and Harry Rex joined Lester and some of his friends under a shade tree for a little drink. Tonya ran and jumped around the yard with a hundred other kids.
At two-thirty, Jake sat at his desk and talked to Carla. Harry Rex and Lucien drank the last of the margaritas, and quickly got drunk. Jake drank coffee and told his wife he would leave Memphis in three hours and be in North Carolina by ten. Yes, he was fine, he said. Everything was okay, and everything was over. There were dozens of reporters packed into his conference room, so be sure and watch the evening news. He would meet with them briefly, then drive to Memphis. He said he loved her, missed her body, and would be there soon. He hung up.
Tomorrow, he'd call Ellen.
“Why are you leaving today!” Lucien demanded.
“You're stupid, Jake, just stupid. You've got a thousand reporters in the palm of your hand, and you're leaving town. Stupid, just stupid,” Harry Rex shouted.
Jake stood. “How do I look, fellas?”
“Like a dumbass if you leave town,” Harry Rex said.
“Hang around for a couple of days,” Lucien pleaded. “This is an opportunity you'll never have again. Please, Jake.”
“Relax, fellas. I'm going to meet with them now, let them take my picture, answer a few of their stupid questions, then I'm leaving town.”
“You're crazy, Jake,” Harry Rex said.
“I agree,” said Lucien.
Jake checked the mirror, adjusted Stan's tie, and smiled at his friends. “I appreciate you guys. I really do. I got paid nine hundred dollars for this trial, and I plan to share it with y'all.”
They poured the last of the margaritas, gulped it down, and followed Jake Brigance down the stairs to face the reporters.
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