”You were too little, Joey,” she said in a choked voice. ”We were both too little.”
She lifted her head and wrapped her arms around my neck. It was a surreal moment, a moment of desperation and honesty and, ultimately, what I hoped was love. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d hugged Sarah, and I found myself content to kneel on that concrete floor and feel her breathing against my neck. We said nothing for several minutes, both embarrassed by the rare show of affection.
Finally, she spoke again.
”You’re breaking my neck, Joey.”
”Oh, God, I’m sorry.” I sometimes forgot about my size. I let go of her and scooted back. ”I have to get up. This concrete is killing my knees.”
I sat on the edge of her bunk and she sat with me.
We talked for an hour. The conversation was slow and stilted at first, but before long she was telling me how tormented she’d been, how the drugs seemed to be the only thing that gave her any relief, if only for a short time. We talked about growing up fatherless, and about Ma and how deeply troubled she was. We eventually got around to the future, the immediate future, and what it held for Sarah.
”So what’s your agreement with the district attorney’s office?” I said.
She looked at me warily. ”Is that why you really came down here?”
”Please don’t say that. You know why I came down here. But it’s something we’re going to have to deal with.”
”I’ve agreed to testify truthfully in exchange for immediate release and probation on my sentence.”
”Do you have it in writing?”
”You’re damned right I do.” She reached under the mattress and pulled out an envelope. Inside was an agreement signed by Sarah, Deacon Baker, and Judge Glass. Sarah was obligated to provide ”truthful testimony” in court in the case of the
”What’s your truthful testimony going to be?” I said.
She gave me a mischievous grin I hadn’t seen in thirty years. ”Will you make sure I get my deal?”
she said.
”You bet your ass.”
July 31
2:00 p.m.
The test results on the forensic evidence found in Erlene Barlowe’s car hadn’t been received from the TBI lab by nine a.m. the following Monday, so Judge Green reconvened the trial. I’d spent a great deal of time explaining everything in detail to Angel during the week. She understood she couldn’t get up and lie. She understood I couldn’t use the doctor as a defense witness. She understood the risks. After listening intently to everything I had to say and no doubt with some input from Erlene, she decided to go for it.
Frankie Martin did his best, but ultimately he had no murder weapon, no clear motive, and no eyewitnesses. He put Landers on the stand to describe the crime scene and explain the investigation, but on cross-examination I was able to paint a picture of Tester first drinking beer at the Purple Pig and then spending the money he’d received from a church at a strip club. To top it off, I pointed out the fact that Tester was so out of control that he’d spent all the church’s money and had to withdraw even more from the ATM at midnight.
The medical examiner testified that Tester died from blood loss as a result of multiple stab wounds, but on cross she also had to admit that his blood-alcohol level was off the charts. She tried to help the prosecution by pointing out that he’d ingested a date rape drug, but she could offer no testimony as to how the drug entered his body.
An expert from the TBI lab told the jury about the hairs found on Tester’s shirt and explained the DNA identification process to them. On cross he had to admit it was possible that the hairs could have passed from Angel to Tester at the club.
An elderly woman named Ina Mae described for the jury how her cat found Tester’s penis and delivered it to her the morning after the murder. Her testimony provided a brief moment of levity in an otherwise deadly serious trial.
Frankie saved Sarah for last. He would have been better off going outside and shooting himself.
”Would you state your name for the record, ma’am?” Frankie began.
”My name is Sarah Dillard.” She was wearing the orange jumpsuit and was cuffed and shackled. She seemed nervous but determined.
”And where do you reside, Ms. Dillard?”
”At the Washington County Detention Center.”
”So you’re in jail?”
”Yes. I was convicted of theft.”
”Are you familiar with the defendant, Miss Dillard?”
Sarah looked at Angel and nodded. ”She’s in my cell block.”
”And as a matter of fact, you’re her lawyer’s sister, are you not?”
”I am.”
”And did you contact the district attorney’s office and tell someone that you had information regarding the defendant that might be relevant to this case?”
”No.”
”I beg your pardon?”
”I said no. I didn’t contact the district attorney’s office. They came to me.”
”Oh, I see. And who was it that came to see you?”
”That man over there.” She pointed to Landers, who was sitting at the prosecutor’s table.
”And as a result of your visit with Agent Landers, what did you do?”
”Nothing.” Uh-oh. Here we go.
”Nothing? You had a conversation with the defendant, didn’t you?”
”No.”
”This defendant confessed to you that she murdered Reverend Tester, didn’t she?”
”Objection,” I said. ”He’s leading the witness, Judge.”
”Sustained. Move on, Mr. Martin. She answered your question.”
”Can I have a short recess, Your Honor?” Martin said.
”Why?” the judge said.
”I need some time to sort this out. This is a complete surprise to me.”
”That’s quite obvious, Mr. Martin, but I’m not accustomed to stopping murder trials because prosecuting attorneys are surprised. Do you have any more questions for the witness?”
”Permission to treat the witness as hostile, Your Honor.”
”She’s
”I realize that, but her testimony is not what I was told it would be.”
”You mean you haven’t even interviewed her?”
”Agent Landers interviewed her. He told me what her testimony would be. She signed a statement. He showed it to me.”
”Use the statement, then,” the judge said.
”Permission to treat her as hostile, Your Honor,”
Martin said.
Judge Green waved the back of his hand at Frankie, as though he was shooing him away. ”Go ahead,”
he said, ”but I don’t think it’s going to make a difference.”
Martin straightened himself and turned back to Sarah. ”Isn’t it true, Miss Dillard, that you entered into an agreement with the district attorney’s office to provide truthful testimony in this case?”
”Yes,” Sarah said, ”and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
”Isn’t it true that you told Agent Landers that Angel Christian, the defendant in this case, confessed that she killed Reverend Tester during a conversation you had with her at the jail?”
”No, that isn’t true.”
