'No sir. I'm sure you've heard it all. You've seen it all. You've felt it all. I can't imagine what you've been through. I'm just trying to avoid it myself.'
'What else do you want?'
'Could you spare five minutes?'
'We've been talking for three minutes. You have two more.' He glanced at his watch as if to set a timer, then eased his long fingers into the pockets of his pants. His eyes returned to the window and the street beyond it.
'The Memphis paper quoted you as saying you wanted to be there when they strapped Sam Cayhall in the gas chamber; that you wanted to look him in the eyes.'
'That's an accurate quote. But I don't believe it'll ever happen.'
'Why not?'
'Because we have a rotten criminal justice system. He's been coddled and protected in prison for almost ten years now. His appeals go on and on. You're filing appeals and pulling strings at this very moment to keep him alive. The system is sick. We don't expect justice.'
'I assure you he's not being coddled. Death row is a horrible place. I just left it.'
'Yeah, but he's alive. He's living and breathing and watching television and reading books. He's talking to you. He's filing lawsuits. And when and if death gets near, he'll have plenty of time to make plans for it. He can say his good-byes. Say his prayers. My grandsons didn't have time to say good-bye, Mr. Hall. They didn't get to hug their parents and give them farewell kisses. They were simply blown to bits while they were playing.'
'I understand that, Mr. Kramer. But killing Sam will not bring them back.'
'No, it won't. But it'll make us feel a helluva lot better. It'll ease a lot of pain. I've prayed a million times that I'll live long enough to see him dead. I had a heart attack five years ago. They had me strapped to machines for two weeks, and the one thing that kept me alive was my desire to outlive Sam Cayhall. I'll be there, Mr. Hall, if my doctors allow it. I'll be there to watch him die, then I'll come home and count my days.'
'I'm sorry you feel this way.'
'I'm sorry I do too. I'm sorry I ever heard the name Sam Cayhall.'
Adam took a step backward and leaned on the counter near the cash register. He stared at the floor, and Mr. Kramer stared through the window. The sun was falling to the west, behind the building, and the quaint little museum was growing dimmer.
'I lost my father because of this,' Adam said softly.
'I'm sorry. I read where he had committed suicide shortly after the last trial.'
'Sam has suffered too, Mr. Kramer. He wrecked his family, and he wrecked yours. And he carries more guilt than you or I could ever imagine.'
'Perhaps he won't be as burdened when he's dead.'
'Perhaps. But why don't we stop the killing?'
'How do you expect me to stop it?'
'I read somewhere that you and the governor are old friends.'
' Why is it any of your business?'
'It's true, isn't it?'
'He's a local boy. I've known him for many years.'
'I met him last week for the first time. He has the power to grant clemency, you know.'
'I wouldn't count on that.'
'I'm not. I'm desperate, Mr. Kramer. I have nothing to lose at this point, except my grandfather. If you and your family are hell-bent on pushing for the execution, then the governor will certainly listen to you.'
'You're right.'
'And if you decided you didn't want an execution, I think the governor might listen to that as well.'
'So it's all up to me,' he said, finally moving. He walked in front of Adam and stopped near the window. 'You're not only desperate, Mr. Hall, you're also naive.'
'I won't argue that.'
'It's nice to know I have so much power. If I had known this before now, your grandfather would've been dead years ago.'
'He doesn't deserve to die, Mr. Kramer,' Adam said as he walked to the door. He hadn't expected to find sympathy. It was important only for Mr. Kramer to see him and know that other lives were being affected.
'Neither did my grandsons. Neither did my son.'
Adam opened the door, and said, 'I'm sorry for the intrusion, and I thank you for your time. I have a sister, a cousin, and an aunt, Sam's daughter. I just wanted you to know that Sam has a family, such as it is. We will suffer if he dies. If he's not executed, he'll never leave prison. He'll simply wilt away and die some day very soon of natural causes.'
'You will suffer?'
'Yes sir. It's a pathetic family, Mr. Kramer, filled with tragedy. I'm trying to avoid another one.'
Mr. Kramer turned and looked at him. His face bore no expression. 'Then I feel sorry for you.'
'Thanks again,' Adam said.
'Good day, sir,' Mr. Kramer said without a smile.
Adam left the building and walked along a shaded street until he was in the center of town. He found the memorial park, and sat on the same bench not far from the bronze statue of the little boys. After a few minutes, though, he was tired of the guilt and memories, and he walked away.
He went to the same cafe a block away, drank coffee, and toyed with a grilled cheese. He heard a Sam Cayhall conversation several tables away, but couldn't discern what exactly was being said.
He checked into a motel and called Lee. She sounded sober, and maybe a bit relieved that he would not be there tonight. He promised to return tomorrow evening. By the time it was dark, Adam had been asleep for half an hour.
31
ADAM drove through downtown Memphis in the predawn hours, and was locked in his office bY 7 A.M. BY eight, he'd talked to E. Garner Goodman three times. Goodman, it seemed, was wired and also having trouble sleeping. They discussed at length the issue of Keyes' representation at trial. The Cayhall file was filled with memos and research about what went wrong at trial, but little of it placed blame on Benjamin Keyes.
But that had been many years ago, when the gas chamber seemed too distant to worry about. Goodman was pleased to hear that Sam now felt he should've testified at trial, and that Keyes had stopped him. Goodman was skeptical of the truth at this point, but he would take Sam's word for it.
Both Goodman and Adam knew the issue should've been raised years ago, and that to do so now was a long shot at best. Law books were getting thicker by the week with Supreme Court decisions barring legitimate claims because they weren't timely filed. But it was a real issue, one always examined by the courts, and Adam got excited as he drafted and redrafted the claim and swapped faxes with Goodman.
Again, the claim would first be filed under the postconviction relief statutes in state court. He hoped for a quick denial there so he could immediately run to federal court.
At ten, he faxed his final draft to the clerk of the Mississippi Supreme Court, and also faxed a copy of it to the attention of Breck Jefferson in Slattery's office. Faxes also went to the clerk of the Fifth Circuit in New Orleans. Then he called the Death Clerk at the Supreme Court, `and told Mr. Olander what he was doing. Mr. Olander instructed him to immediately fax a copy to Washington.
Darlene knocked on the door, and Adam unlocked it. He had a visitor waiting in the reception area, a Mr. Wyn Lettner. Adam thanked her, and a few minutes later walked down the hall and greeted Lettner, who was alone and dressed like a man who owned a trout dock. Deck shoes, fishing cap. They exchanged pleasantries: fish were biting, Irene was fine, when was he coming back to Calico Rock?
'I'm in town on business, and I just wanted to see you for a few minutes,' he said in a low whisper with his back to the receptionist.
'Sure,' Adam whispered. 'My office is down the hall.'
'No. Let's take a walk.'
They rode the elevator to the lobby, and stepped from the building onto the pedestrian mall. Lettner bought a bag of roasted peanuts from a pushcart vendor, and offered Adam a handful. He declined. They walked slowly north toward city hall and the federal building. Lettner alternately ate the peanuts and tossed them to the
