pacing slowly, back and forth across the room. The name of Ruth Kramer was typed on one, no address, and Elliot Kramer on the other. 'Those are for the Kramers. Deliver them, but wait until the execution is over.'
'Why wait?'
'Because my motives are pure. I don't want them to think I'm doing this to arouse sympathy in my dying hours.'
Adam placed the Kramer letters next to Quince Lincoln's - three letters, three dead bodies. How many more letters would Sam crank out over the weekend? How many more victims were out there?
'You're sure you're about to die, aren't you, Sam?'
He stopped by the door and pondered this for a moment. 'The odds are against us. I'm getting prepared.'
'We still have a chance.'
'Sure we do. But I'm getting ready, just in case. I've hurt a lot of people, Adam, and I haven't always stopped to think about it. But when you have a date with the grim reaper, you think about the damage you've done.'
Adam picked up the three envelopes and looked at them. 'Are there others?'
Sam grimaced and looked at the floor. 'That's all, for now.'
The Jackson paper on Friday morning carried a front-page story about Sam Cayhall's request for a clemency hearing. The story included a slick photo of Governor David McAllister, a bad one of Sam, and lots of self-serving comments by Mona Stark, the governor's chief of staff, all to the effect that the governor was struggling with the decision.
Since he was a real man of the people, a regular servant to all Mississippians, McAllister had installed an expensive telephone hotline system shortly after he was elected. The tollfree number was plastered all over the state, and his constituents were constantly barraged with public service ads to use the People's Hotline. Call the governor. He cared about your opinions. Democracy at its finest. Operators were standing by.
And because he had more ambition than fortitude, McAllister and his staff tracked the phone calls on a daily basis. He was a follower, not a leader. He spent serious money on polls, and had proven adept at quietly discovering the issues that bothered people, then jumping out front to lead the parade.
Both Goodman and Adam suspected this. McAllister seemed too obsessed with his destiny to launch new initiatives. The man was a shameless vote-counter, so they had decided to give him something to count.
Goodman read the story early, over coffee and fruit, and by seven-thirty was on the phone with Professor John Bryan Glass and Hez Kerry. By eight, three of Glass' students were sipping coffee from paper cups in the grungy, temporary office. The marketing analysis was about to begin.
Goodman explained the scheme and the need for secrecy. They were breaking no laws, he assured them, just manipulating public opinion. The cellular phones were on the tables, along with pages of phone numbers Goodman had copied on Wednesday. The students were a little apprehensive, but nonetheless anxious to begin. They would be paid well. Goodman demonstrated the technique with the first call. He dialed the number.
'People's Hotline,' a pleasant voice answered.
'Yes, I'm calling about the story in this morning's paper, the one about Sam Cayhall,' Goodman said slowly in his best imitation of a drawl. It left a lot to be desired. The students were very amused.
'And your name is?'
'Yes, I'm Ned Lancaster, from Biloxi, Mississippi,' Goodman replied, reading from the phone lists. 'And I voted for the governor, a fine man,' he threw in for good measure.
'And how do you feel about Sam Cayhall?'
'I don't think he should be executed. He's an old man who's suffered a lot, and I want the governor to give him a pardon. Let him die in peace up there at Parchman.'
'Okay. I'll make sure the governor knows about your call.'
'Thank you.'
Goodman pushed a button on the phone, and took a bow before his audience. 'Nothing to it. Let's get started.'
The white male selected a phone number. His conversation went something like this: 'Hello, this is Lester Crosby, from Bude, Mississippi. I'm calling about the execution of Sam Cayhall. Yes ma'am. My number? It's 555- 9084. Yes, that's right, Bude, Mississippi, down here in Franklin County. That's right. Well, I don't think Sam Cayhall ought to be sent to the gas chamber. I'm just opposed to it. I think the governor should step in and stop this thing. Yes ma'am, that's right. Thank you.' He smiled at Goodman, who was punching another number.
The white female was a middle-aged student. She was from a small town in a rural section of the state, and her accent was naturally twangy. 'Hello, is this the governor's office? Good. I'm calling about the Cayhall story in today's paper. Susan Barnes. Decatur, Mississippi. That's right. Well, he's an old man who'll probably die in a few years anyway. What good will it do for the state to kill him now? Give the guy a break. What? Yes, I want the governor to stop it. I voted for the governor, and I think he's a fine man. Yes. Thank you too.'
The black male was in his late twenties. He simply informed the hotline operator that he was a black Mississippian, very much opposed to the ideas Sam Cayhall and the Klan promoted, but nonetheless opposed to the execution. 'The government does not have the right to determine if someone lives or dies,' he said. He did not favor the death penalty under any circumstances. And so it went. The calls poured in from all over the state, one after the other, each from a different person with a different logic for stopping the execution. The students became creative, trying assorted accents and novel reasonings. Occasionally, their calls would hit busy signals, and it was amusing to know that they had jammed the hotline. Because of his crisp accent, Goodman assumed the role of the outsider, sort of a traveling death penalty abolitionist who bounced in from all over the country with a dazzling array of ethnic aliases and strange locales.
Goodman had worried that McAllister might be paranoid enough to trace the calls to his hotline, but had decided that the operators would be too busy.
And busy they were. Across town, John Bryan Glass canceled a class and locked the door to his office. He had a delightful time making repeated calls under all sorts of names. Not far from him, Hez Kerry and one of his staff attorneys were also bombarding the hotline with the same messages.
Adam hurried to Memphis. Darlene was in his office, trying vainly to organize the mountain of paperwork. She pointed to a stack nearest his computer.'The decision denying cert is on top, then the decision from the Mississippi Supreme Court. Next to it is the petition for writ of habeas corpus to be filed in federal district court. I've already faxed everything.'
Adam removed his jacket and threw it on a chair. He looked at a row of pink telephone messages tacked to a bookshelf. 'Who are these people?'
'Reporters, writers, quacks, a couple are other lawyers offering their assistance. One is from Garner Goodman in Jackson. He said the market analysis is going fine, don't call. What is the market analysis?'
'Don't ask. No word from the Fifth Circuit?'
'No.'
Adam took a deep breath and eased into his chair.
'Lunch?' she asked.
'Just a sandwich, if you don't mind. Can you work tomorrow and Sunday?'
'Of course.'
'I need for you to stay here all weekend, by the phone and the fax. I'm sorry.'
'I don't mind. I'll get a sandwich.'
She left, closing the door behind her. Adam called Lee's condo, and there was no answer. He called the Auburn House, but no one had heard from her. He called Phelps Booth, who was in a board meeting. He called Carmen in Berkeley and told her to make arrangements to fly to Memphis on Sunday.
He looked at the phone messages, and decided none were worth returning.
627
At one o'clock, Mona Stark spoke to the press loitering around the governor's office in the capitol. She said that after much deliberation, the governor had decided to grant a clemency hearing on Monday at 10 A.m., at which time the governor would listen to the issues and appeals, and make a fair decision. It was an awesome responsibility, she explained, this weighing of life or death. But David McAllister would do what was just and right.
41
