day of the week?'
I tried to explain that not all the lawyers work on each individual
case, but she was looking for a fight.
'You trying to tell me you'd leave someone waiting here if they ready
to say they seen Melvin Jackson do it?'
'Is that what you're here to say?' I asked.
That did the trick. 'Hell, no. No way Melvin could kill that woman.'
It was exactly what I expected to hear, and I herded her into a
conference room while she repeated it every way she could think to say
it. I hoped the closed door would at least buffer the outburst that
was sure to greet the bad news: I wasn't going to drop the charges and
send Melvin home with her.
When she was done saying her piece, I did my best to say mine
sympathetically. For all I knew, she had nothing to do with her son
turning out to be the kind of man he was.
'I can't pretend that I understand how difficult this must be for you,
Mrs. Jackson, but the police have compelling evidence suggesting that
your son, as hard as it must be for you to accept, was responsible for
Clarissa Easterbrook's death. I would not be doing my job if I ignored
that evidence simply because a loving mother told me her son was
innocent. If he claims he's innocent, he has his own attorney to help
him defend against the charges. You might want to call his lawyer and
see how you can help.'
In a capital case, the bulk of the defense work often goes into the
penalty phase. If Slip could calm Martha Jackson down long enough to
put her on the stand, a mother's plea for mercy can sway a jury to
spare a son's life.
'Oh, trust me, I'll be talking to that man too, but I know there's only
so much he can do. Only you people can shut off this assembly line of
a court system once it gets to going. You say you wouldn't be doing
your job to ignore evidence, but let me ask you this, Ms. Kincaid.
Isn't part of your job to pay attention to evidence that's looking you
right in the face?'
Given the circumstances her son was in and my role in that process, I
showed her more patience that I normally would. 'Of course it is, and
I'm doing that.'
'You probably went to some fancy law school, didn't you?' she asked.
'I'm not sure what you want me to say, Mrs. Jackson.'
'I'm pointing out that you a smart woman, but you only looking at what
you want to see.'
I was getting frustrated. She was going to have to come to terms with
this eventually, so it may as well be now. 'I'm very sorry for your
situation, but, ma'am, you know where the police found the murder
weapon, and your son's fingerprints were on the victim's front door.'
'C'mon now, my boy was just trying to get the woman to talk to him. He
wanted to sit down, look her in the eye, and ask how in the world
someone can lose his home and children because of something his cousin
did.'
'And maybe he finally found a way to do that.' I immediately regretted
saying something so mean-spirited, but it seemed to be exactly what
Martha Jackson expected.
The fire in her voice was gone. She clicked her tongue against her
teeth and shook her head. 'I don't know why I
bothered. Y'all just ain't usin' the heads God gave you. How that
poor lady's death gonna help my grandchildren? You see a colored man
and assume he ain't got sense, just an animal lashing out at the
world.'
I was angry at the accusation, but knew that nothing I said would
change either her perception of the criminal justice system or the many
events in her lifetime that were responsible for it. 'I'm sorry, Mrs.
Jackson, but I can't help you.' I opened the door to show her out.
She had one more thing to say before she left. 'Melvin's living in
Section Eight one step above begging on the streets for a reason. Why's
he all the sudden got regular work at some fancy office development?
And wouldn't you know that's where your poor missing judge turns up.
Believe what you will about my son, but y'alls the ones ain't
thinkin.'
She walked past me through the doorway and headed for the elevator. I
assumed she didn't need an escort.
Russ Frist was standing outside the conference room.
'Melvin Jackson's mother,' I explained.
'Alice told me about her when I got back, but I didn't want to walk in.
Sounded like you had everything under control.'
'Sure, if you consider being an insensitive prick having things under
control,' I said. 'It's not her fault her son's in a jam.'
