crowd trying to get in. She reached out and touched his arm. He turned, a serious look on his face.
“I’m scared,” she said.
Talmadge looked directly into her eyes. “Me, too.”
Once inside the courtroom, she fought her way to her seat and jammed herself in between two other people. The room seemed stifling. Talmadge and the other two attorneys sat at the defense table as Collier and his assistant, Jane Sparks, paced around the prosecution table. Court officers buzzed around, the clerk taking her seat at the table in front of the judge’s bench. There was a din of background chatter and the shuffling of bodies vying for seats.
A court officer came over to Talmadge and said something. Taylor read his lips as he answered, “In the men’s room.”
Minutes passed, the energy in the room seeming to build by the second. Talmadge looked around nervously. A court officer came in through the doors to the judge’s chambers.
He looked over at the defense table, his face stern, almost angry, and crossed quickly over to Talmadge.
“Where’s your client, Counselor?” he demanded. “The judge is waiting.”
“He’s in the men’s room, damn it, the man had an attack,”
Talmadge said, his voice tense.
“Get somebody down there to check on him. Quick, or you’ll have some explaining to do to the judge.”
Talmadge turned and nodded to Hoffman. “Go get him,”
he said, his voice low.
Hoffman wove his way through the crowd quickly and disappeared through the doors. Taylor felt a lump growing inside her. She swiveled her head around, scanning the crowded courtroom. In the back of the room, standing against the wall, stood Agent Powell. Their eyes met and locked for a few moments, then Powell raised his left arm to his waist, pulled back his coat sleeve, and checked his watch.
Hoffman pushed through the crowd back to the defense table. He leaned down and whispered something in Talmadge’s ear. The lawyer sat up straight, his body almost stiff, as he glared at Hoffman. Taylor stood up, leaned over the rail, and motioned to the defense table. Hoffman saw her and stepped over to the rail.
“What’s going on?” she whispered into his ear.
He turned to her and cupped his mouth around her ear.
“We can’t find him,” he said over the courtroom din.
“Oh my God,” she said out loud. Hoffman shushed her, turned back to the table as the court officer came in once again from the judge’s chambers. He bent down into a huddle at the defense table, his face darkening. Collier and Sparks, watching from the other table, suddenly stood and walked over to the group. Taylor watched as Jane Sparks brought her hand to her mouth in shock. Collier turned and walked away from the group.
The court officer backed away, pulled a Handie-Talkie from his belt, and spoke into it. A second court officer stepped over from the other side of the room and whispered something to the first officer, then turned and disappeared.
By now, the noise in the courtroom was rising as the press and spectators got wind of what was going on. People pushed and shoved, voices were raised. The court officer motioned for people to quiet down. The radio on his belt crackled loudly, and he held it to his ear for a moment, then spoke into it. A second later, he turned and strode quickly through the doors into the judge’s chambers.
Taylor stood at the rail, staring. Talmadge turned to her, his eyes dark and serious, and shrugged his shoulders.
Moments later, the court officer reentered, his voice loud:
“All rise!” he began.
Judge Forsythe came in behind him, his robes in a flurry, and immediately took his seat and began banging his gavel before the officer could even finish his spiel.
“Be seated!” he yelled. “Everyone take a seat, or I’m going to have this courtroom cleared immediately! Those of you in the back, stand against the wall and be silent. This is my last warning. I
It took a few seconds, but order was quickly restored. Forsythe looked out over the bench and glared at the defense table.
“Counselor, produce your client,” he ordered.
Talmadge stood quickly. “Your Honor,” he said, his voice breaking. Taylor had never heard him sound like he was losing it before. “Your Honor, I-I can’t. He was here a few minutes ago. He was in the bathroom. I-”
“Mr. Talmadge, I just gave you a direct order to produce your client. I’m going to hold you in contempt if he’s not delivered to this court immediately.”
“Y-Your Honor,” Talmadge stammered. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make somebody just appear if they’re not here.”
Forsythe turned to one of his court officers. “I want this building locked down immediately. Search the entire courthouse. Find him.”
The court officer fumbled for his radio, then bolted from the courtroom through the judge’s door.
“General Collier,” Forsythe said, “do you have any sugges-tion as to how to deal with this most unusual circumstance?”
Collier jumped to attention. “Your Honor, has the jury communicated to you that they’ve reached a verdict?”
“They have.”
Collier turned to the defense table, stared at Talmadge for a moment, then turned back to the bench. “Well, then, Your Honor, the state moves that the jury be brought into the courtroom to deliver its verdict!”
A murmur arose throughout the room. “Objection, Your Honor,” Talmadge shouted. “The defendant is not here. You can’t deliver a verdict without the defendant.”
“Objection overruled,” Forsythe snapped. “If the defendant’s not here, it’s his own damn fault, and if it’s not his own damn fault, I intend to find out whose fault it is. Bailiff, bring in the jury.”
Seconds later, the jury filed in, looking lost and weary.
Immediately, they spotted the defense table. The looks on their faces became even more questioning.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have an unusual circumstance here,” Forsythe said. “We seem to have lost our defendant.
However, this does not mean that the verdict cannot be delivered
The foreman, a thin man with gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses, stood. Before he could open his mouth, Talmadge was on his feet again.
“Your Honor, move for a mistrial, as the defendant’s absence is highly prejudicial.”
“The jury has already reached a verdict, Mr. Talmadge, before the defendant went missing. So how could it be prejudicial?”
“Move for a mistrial, Your Honor,” Talmadge answered weakly.
“Motion denied. Answer the question, Mr. Foreman.”
The thin man looked frightened as his glance jumped around the courtroom. “Yes, Your Honor. We have.”
“Would you hand your verdict to the clerk, please?”
The man held out his hand as the clerk approached and took the forms from him. She walked over, reached above her, and handed the papers to Forsythe. He scanned them quickly, his face expressionless, then handed them back to the clerk.
“Since the defendant is unable to stand and face the jury, his representatives will. Gentlemen, on your feet.”
Talmadge and his two underlings stood.
“Clerk, read the verdicts.”
“On count one of the indictment, a violation of TCA 39-13-202, first-degree murder of Allison May Matthews, we find the defendant guilty as charged …”
A muffled buzz filled the courtroom. Forsythe slammed his gavel down twice as the clerk continued.
