'Yeah. They don't remember spotting anyone, but they were probably too wrapped up in each other to notice anything. Tell me about the rest of your results.'
'Gary could have made it to the Ponderosa from the park in fifteen to twenty minutes, so he could have killed Whiley around eleven thirty-seven and made it to the bar by eleven fifty-five.'
'Did you go from the park to the storm drain where the hatchet was found and back to the Ponderosa?'
'Yes. The storm drain is near the campus. We're talking a little under two -miles. Even if Gary ran it in a seven-minute mile, there's no way he could kill Whiley after eleven thirty-five, ditch the hatchet and make it to the Ponderosa by midnight.'
'So he'd have to hide the hatchet somewhere before going to the Ponderosa, then pick it up later. That sounds a little complicated for someone of Gary's intelligence but I'll have to ask Elmore Brock about that.'
Peter stood up. He looked depressed.
'I've got to go back to the office to work on my closing argument. You keep working on character witnesses for the penalty phase. I hope we don't need them, but I'm afraid we will.'
Chapter TWENTY-SIX.
They came for Gary just as the sun was setting. His heart fluttered like the wings of a trapped bird. In the back of the police car, the city fading in the gathering darkness, Gary prayed, 'Please, God, please, God,' over and over. He promised God he would be good. He promised he would never make Mom and Dad ashamed or mad again. Please, God.
The reporters were waiting on the courthouse steps, cigarettes dangling, cameras resting on the concrete slabs, engaged in loose conversation or lost to the stillness of sundown, until someone spotted the police car.
All at once, they were up, jerked into action like marionettes. When the car doors opened, the mob pressed in, jabbing at him with microphones and screaming questions at him. Gary cringed in a corner of the backseat.
The sheriff's deputies cleared a path as Gary struggled out of the car, the task more difficult because he was handcuffed. He looked for a friendly face and saw Peter pushing through the crowd.
'What did they say' Gary asked, as Peter helped him up the ste s.
p 'I don't know. They have to read the verdict in court.
The jurors are waiting in the jury room.'
'Are Mom and Dad here?' Gary asked as they took the elevator up to the courtroom, surrounded by sheriff's deputies.
'Yes. I called them, first thing. Donna is with them.'
The guards escorted Peter and Gary to the defense table. As they took off Gary's handcuffs, a stir in the back of the courtroom signaled Becky O'Shay's entrance. She looked grim and intentionally avoided eye contact with Peter and his client. The bailiff scurried into the judge's chamber to tell him that all of the parties were in the courtroom. Moments later, the bailiff emerged from chambers and entered the jury room.
When the door to the jury room opened, the undercurrent of noise in the courtroom stopped. There was a rus hi.
tie of clothing and a tap of heels as the jurors worked their way to their seats in the jury box. Peter searched their faces for a clue to the verdict, but the jurors would not look at him or O'Shay. Beside Peter, Gary twisted anxiously in his seat.
As soon as the jurors were settled, the bailiff pressed a button at the side of his desk to signal the judge.
Everyone stood when judge Kuffel entered the courtroom. When he was seated, the judge turned toward the jury box.
'Ladies and gentlemen, have you reached a verdict?'
Em st Clayfield, a farmer, stood slowly. He held a folded sheet of paper in his hand.
'We have,' Clayfield answered grimly.
'Please hand your verdict to the bailiff,' the judge commanded.
Clayfield held out his hand and the bailiff took the verdict form from him and gave it to the judge. Kuffel unfolded it and read it once. Then he looked at Gary.
'Will the defendant please stand,' he said in a subdued voice. Gary jumped up, but Peter felt dizzy from tension and his legs were weak. It took an effort to get to his feet.
'Omitting the caption,' judge Kuffel said, 'the verdict reads as follows: 'We the jury, being duly impaneled and sworn, find the defendant GUILTY as charged.''
There was complete silence for a moment, then Peter heard Alice Harmon moan as Donna softly cried out, 'No.' He was looking down at the courtroom floor and did not see the wide smile of satisfaction on Becky O'Shay's face. A babble of voices filled the air.
judge Kuffel gaveled for silence, then asked, 'Do you want the ury polled, Mr. Hale?'
Yes,' Peter managed. He touched Gary's shoulder and slumped down in his seat as the judge asked each juror if he or she agreed with the verdict.
'What happened?' Gary asked.
'They found you guilty, Gary,' Peter said. 'They think you killed that girl.'
Gary looked stunned. He rose slowly to his feet and stared at the judge. The guards started forward.
'I didn't do it,' Gary said. The judge stopped polling the jury and said, 'Please sit down, Mr. Harmon.'
'I didn't hurt that girl,' Gary cried out, his voice breaking.
'Mr. Harmon,' the judge repeated as the guards drew closer.
'I'm a good boy,' Gary wailed. 'I want to go home.'
Peter stood and placed a hand on Gary's shoulder.
Behind him he could hear Donna's sobs.
'I wanna go home. I want my mamma. I don't like that jail. I wanna go home.'
Peter wrapped his arms around Gary and held him.
Gary's body shook as he took gigantic breaths and wailed like a confused and frightened child.
777 Gary had been transferred to the security block in the Whitaker jail as soon as the guilty verdict was received.
It consisted of a row of fifteen narrow cells. Each cell was wide enough for a bunk and a bunk's width of floor snace. At the back of the cell was a toilet. Outside the row of cells was an area where the inmates could take their only exercise by walking back and forth along the bars. A color television was affixed to the bars high up, in the middle. The guards controlled the programs and the viewing hours. Gary hated his narrow cell. It was like a coffin.
Entry to the security block was made through a sally port. Gary heard the grating sound of the sally port door sliding open and strained through the bars of his cell to see the visitor. When Peter was safely inside the sally port, the outer door slid shut and the guard opened the inner door electronically. The other inmates were locked down while Peter visited. They stared as he walked by.
Life on the block was so dull that any change in routine was as great a diversion as a Broadway show.
Gary's cell door was operated from the same master control that opened the sally port gates. When Peter was in front of the cell, the guard opened it and Peter stepped inside. He had planned on a cheery greeting but Gary looked so sad that all he could manage was 'Hi, Gary' In a voice so subdued that he wasn't certain he had even said the words aloud.
'Can I go home, Peter?'
Peter ignored the question.
'Sit down, Gary. There are some things we have to discuss.'
Gary sat on the bunk and Peter joined him. There was no other place to sit in the cell, except the toilet, which had no lid.
'You're going to have to stay in this cell for a while.'
'Why? Why can't I go back to my other cell? That cell was bigger.'
'That cell was for when you weren't convicted. Now you are. The penalty phase of your trial will start next week and the sheriff is afraid You might try to escape, so he wants you here.'
'I won't try to escape, Pete. I promise. Tell the sheriff I won't tr to escape.'
'I did tell him, but he has rules he has to follow if a person is convicted. You know about rules, right, Gary?
