I stood to leave. ”I don’t want to sound arrogant, Deacon, but if you take this to trial, you’re going to lose. She didn’t kill him.”
Baker was silent, apparently lost in thought.
”We’ll see about that,” Martin said.
”Call me and let me know what you decide,” I said. ”I’ll be getting ready for trial.”
The call came two hours later.
”She can plead to aggravated assault as Range I and take the minimum, three years,” Frankie Martin said.
”It will have to be a no-contest plea, and you’ll have to agree to probation,” I said.
”Fine.”
”Deacon is going to sell it?”
”He’s already working the phones,” Martin said.
”He’ll hold a press conference after the plea and explain why we agreed to this.”
I hung up the phone and went down to talk to my client.
July 14
9:00 a.m.
As Judge Green made his entrance and sat down beneath his portrait, I glanced around the courtroom.
The jury box was once again filled with members of the media who’d been called by Deacon Baker. I was edgy and tired. I’d spent most of Sunday night troubled by Angel’s willingness to take this deal. I told myself that the plea took nearly all of the risk off the table, guaranteed her release from custody, and spared her the ordeal of a trial. But I also knew that if I’d been accused of a crime I hadn’t committed, nothing would persuade me to stand up and accept a three-year sentence, probation or no probation. Angel hadn’t needed much persuasion.
”I understand we have a plea in case number 35666,
Angel appeared through the doorway to my right, and I smiled at her as I walked to the podium. She looked away. I thought she’d forgiven me for being so hard on her the day I questioned her about Erlene, but maybe not.
”Let me see the forms,” Judge Green said.
I’d taken plea-agreement forms along with me when I explained the deal to Angel, and she’d signed them. I now handed them to the bailiff, who in turn handed them to Judge Green. The judge didn’t allow lawyers to approach the bench to hand him forms or other evidence. He insisted that everything be passed forward through the bailiff, as though he was repulsed by the idea of having to deal directly with a lowly lawyer.
Judge Green studied the documents for a few minutes. His brow furrowed. When he was finished, he looked over at Frankie Martin and Deacon Baker, both of whom were staring straight ahead.
”Would you care to explain this to me, Mr. Baker?”
”Explain what, Your Honor?”
”The state is reducing a first-degree murder charge to an aggravated assault. You’re agreeing to probation. Did your victim somehow miraculously come back to life?”
”No, Your Honor. He’s still dead.” The reporters laughed. I thought about Junior Tester, and for a moment, I actually felt sorry for him.
”Then why are you allowing this woman to plead as though the victim were still alive?” Green said.
”I think it’s clear we have some problems with the case, Your Honor. This is a compromise plea agreement. An important witness has passed away. There are also some things that have come up in the investigation, things I’m not at liberty to discuss at this time, that convince me that this plea agreement is in everyone’s best interests.”
”Why don’t you just dismiss the case?” Judge Green said. ”You can always refile it if another witness pops up or if your other problems are resolved.
There’s no statute of limitations on murder.”
”We think this is a better way to resolve it. Mr.
Dillard’s client is willing to enter a no-contest plea to aggravated assault.”
”No, I’m not.” The soft voice came directly from my right.
Judge Green turned his attention towards me.
”Did your client say something, Mr. Dillard?”
”I think so.” I looked at Angel. ”What did you say?”
”I don’t want to do this. I changed my mind.”
Baker stood. ”But we had a deal-”
”Be quiet,” Judge Green said. ”Mr. Dillard, what’s going on?”
”I’d be happy to explain it if I knew,” I said.
”When I spoke to Ms. Christian on Friday afternoon, she seemed pleased. She’s apparently changed her mind.”
”You’re wasting my time,” the judge said. ”I don’t like it when people waste my time.”
”This is a complete surprise,” I said. ”If you’ll give me a few minutes to talk to her, maybe we can straighten this out.”
”Don’t bother,” Judge Green said.
”Your Honor,” Baker said, ”Mr. Dillard and I reached a compromise agreement that brings what I believe to be a fair and satisfactory end to this very difficult case.”
”It sounds like Mr. Dillard’s client has other ideas.”
”But she signed the forms,” Deacon said. ”She-”
”It’s not a
Green was almost jaunty as he stepped off the bench. He had to know that Deacon wouldn’t have made such a lousy deal if his case was strong, and if Deacon’s case wasn’t strong, that meant he might lose just before the election. If he lost the case, he’d probably lose the election, and Judge Green would be rid of him.
I went back to the jury room and asked the bailiff to give Angel and me some privacy. She sat down at the table and wouldn’t look at me.
”What’s going on?” I said. ”I thought you were happy with this.”
”I changed my mind,” she said.
”Have you talked to Erlene?” She didn’t answer.
”I’ll take that as a yes. So Erlene told you not to take this plea?”
”She thinks you’re going to win.”
”I appreciate the confidence, but you’re taking a big risk.”
”You will win, won’t you? I’m innocent. Promise me you’ll win.”
I didn’t say anything. I wished I could promise, but I’d been through enough trials to know that I could never predict the outcome.
”We go to trial two weeks from today,” I said.
”I’ll be ready. I’ll come to the jail and we’ll go over everything again. Are you sure about this?”
”Not really,” she said.
I had to admire her courage, even though I thought it might be a bit on the reckless side. But what was more important was that I’d heard the magic words again:
July 14
11:45 a.m.
Landers quickly found out what Frankie Martin had meant when he said he and Deacon would need Landers’s help if Dillard didn’t accept the ”offer he can’t refuse.” Less than an hour after the plea bargain fell apart, Deacon had called Landers and asked him to come down to the DA’s office. When Landers walked into Deacon’s office and sat down, they told him they’d decided to go to Plan B, which was to try to get Dillard’s sister to help them by
