Every deputy on the payroll was at the hospital by 2:00 a.m. At three, they sneaked Simeon out of the hospital and took him to jail. Ozzie informed the uncle.
Lettie and Portia used the same side door and left the hospital. Jake accompanied them to their car. He returned to the main wing, avoided the waiting area, and found Ozzie chatting with two of his men. Dumas Lee approached them, camera around his neck, and they immediately went silent.
Dumas said, “Say, Jake, you got a minute?”
Jake hesitated, looked at Ozzie, who said, “No comment whatsoever,” then asked Dumas, “What’s on your mind?”
“Just a couple of questions.”
They walked away, side by side, down a long corridor. Dumas asked, “Can you confirm it’s Simeon Lang?”
It was senseless to deny it, so Jake said, “Yes.”
“And you’re his lawyer?”
“I am not.”
“Okay, but he’s had a drunk driving charge pending in city court for four months. Your name’s on the docket as his lawyer.”
Careful, Jake warned himself. He breathed deeply and felt a thick knot in his stomach. “I did that as a favor,” he said.
“I don’t care why you did it. Your name’s on the docket as his lawyer.”
“I’m not his lawyer, okay? Never have been. I can’t represent the estate of Seth Hubbard and also represent Simeon Lang, the husband of one of the beneficiaries.”
“Then why did you show up in court on October 19 to request a postponement of his drunk driving case?”
“It was a favor. I’m not his lawyer, okay Dumas?”
“Why has the case been postponed for four months?”
“I’m not the judge.”
“I’ll talk to him later,” Dumas fired back.
“You do that. No further comment.” Jake abruptly turned around and walked away. Dumas followed and kept talking, saying, “Look, Jake, you’d better talk to me because this is gonna look bad.”
Jake turned around again and they squared off in the center of the corridor. Jake caught himself, took a deep breath, and said, “Don’t draw any conclusions, Dumas. I haven’t touched the DUI case in four months because I’m not his lawyer. If you will recall, at the time he was represented by those clowns from Memphis. Not by me. So please be careful here.”
Dumas was scribbling furiously. Jake wanted to punch him. Everything was suddenly forgotten by screams from the other end of the building.
Bo Roston was pronounced dead at 4:15 a.m.
29
Jake and Carla sat at the kitchen table and waited for the coffee to brew. It was not yet 5:00 a.m. on Wednesday, February 22, a day that would undoubtedly be one of the saddest and darkest in the county’s history. Two teenagers-bright kids, strong students, athletes, church members, popular boys from a good family- slaughtered on an icy road by a drunk. The horrible news was spreading by the minute. The cafés would be packed as the early risers hurried in for the latest word. The churches would open for prayer. Clanton High School would be the worst place to be. Those poor kids.
Carla poured coffee and they spoke softly, in hushed tones so Hanna wouldn’t be awakened. Jake was saying, “I never opened a file. Ozzie called me on Monday, told me Simeon was arrested on Saturday morning and was due in court on Wednesday. When he sobered up, Ozzie drove him home and along the way told him to get rid of the Memphis lawyers. I thanked Ozzie and we agreed to meet later. He called back and asked if I would show up in court Wednesday to get the case continued. Ozzie thought he could use the DUI to pressure Simeon to get in line. I went to court that Wednesday, did the paperwork, asked for a continuance, got one, and forgot about it, for the most part. At the time, Simeon was still represented by Booker Sistrunk, and I told Simeon in court that I would not help him with the DUI. I didn’t like the guy; in fact, I despised him.”
“Did you see a conflict?” Carla asked.
“I thought about it. In fact, I even mentioned it to Ozzie. The truth was, there was no conflict. I’m the attorney for the estate. Simeon is not an interested party in the estate. His wife is, but he’s not.”
“That’s not real clear, Jake.”
“No, it’s not, and I should not have gotten involved. It was a huge mistake. I didn’t trust my instincts.”
“But no one can blame you for Simeon’s drunk driving.”
“Sure they can. If the case had been handled properly, he would have been convicted before now and his license pulled. He would not have been driving last night, in theory anyway. The truth is half the blacks and rednecks in this county do not have valid licenses.”
“It’s only four months, Jake. These cases drag on for longer, don’t they?”
“Sometimes.”
“What was that guy’s name, the roofer? You did a DUI for his son and the case lasted a year.”
“Chuck Bennett, but I didn’t want the boy in jail until they finished with our roof.”
“My point is that these cases can drag on.”
“Sure, but there’s always finger-pointing after a tragedy, the blame game. And since I’m in the Lang camp, I’ll get my share. It’s always easy to blame the lawyers. Ozzie’ll get hammered, too. He’ll be seen as the black sheriff trying to protect one of his own, and now two white kids are dead. It could be brutal.”
“Maybe not, Jake.”
“I’m not optimistic.”
“How will it affect the will contest?”
Jake slowly sipped his coffee and stared through a window into the blackness of his backyard. Softly, he said, “It’s devastating. Simeon Lang will be the most reviled person in this county for months to come. He’ll have his day in court, then get sent away to prison. Over time, he’ll be forgotten by most folks. But our trial is only six weeks away. The Lang name is toxic. Imagine trying to pick a jury with that baggage.” He took another sip, then rubbed his eyes. “Lettie has no choice but to file for divorce, and quickly. She has to cut all ties to Simeon.”
“Will she?”
“Why not? He’ll spend the next twenty or thirty years in Parchman, where he belongs.”
“I’m sure the Rostons will be pleased with that.”
“Those poor people.”
“Are you seeing her today, Lettie?”
“I’m sure I will. I’ll call Harry Rex first thing this morning and try to arrange a meeting. He’ll know what to do.”
“Will this make the
“No, the
“What’s the worst he can say about you, Jake?”
“Well, first, he can label me as Simeon’s lawyer. Then he can slant and twist and imply that I’ve somehow stalled the October DUI case, and that if I had not done so, then Simeon’s driver’s license would have been yanked by the court and he wouldn’t be driving. Thus, the Roston boys wouldn’t be dead.”
“He can’t do that. That’s assuming far too much.”
“He can and he will.”
“Then talk to him. Damage control here, Jake. Today is Wednesday, so the funerals will probably be over the weekend. Wait until Monday, and file the divorce. What do you call that restraining thing?”
