Out of the Darkness by Robert D. McKee

Author:Robert D. McKee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gale, Cengage Learning
Published: 2017-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

When Jebediah Blake, Benjamin Walker’s court reporter, came onto the stage with his pencils and pad, Micah knew the long months of waiting were over.

They were in Edwin Bury’s Opera House. The courtroom’s being so small, the county was forced to rent Mr. Bury’s building every time Judge Walker came to Probity for a jury trial. There was always mumbling among the county commissioners about the need for a new courthouse whenever they received Mr. Bury’s bill. Since Bury was a wily businessman and knew there was no other place in town suitable, he did not hesitate to test the limits of the commissioners’ willingness to pay rent.

“Be ready,” Jackson said to Micah under his breath, “whenever you see Jeb, you know Walker’s not far behind.”

Micah rubbed his stomach. For days now he’d felt a sick fluttering. He knew what it was, of course. He was scared out of his wits.

At least Jackson was with him. He took some comfort in that. Micah had never had a jury trial in his life. In fact, he’d never had a trial of any kind. Knowing this, when the word got out that Chester was not going to plead guilty and the case would go to court, Jackson had come to Micah and offered him his services as co-counsel pro bono, free of charge.

Micah jumped at the offer. “That would be wonderful,” he said, not even trying to hide his relief at not having to defend Chester alone. Micah was confident in his abilities, but he knew there was much he did not know, and the assistance of someone who had been practicing law for as long as Jackson Clark would be invaluable.

Later Micah had asked Jackson why he wanted to help. “Three reasons,” the old man said as they sipped beer in Buck’s. “First, I like Chester Hedstrom—always have. Next, I think that abortion statute is poorly written and is bad law. And, third, but not last—” He poked Micah with his elbow. “—I want to teach that God-damned pompous ass Thomas Blythe a lesson.”

Micah pointed out how it was doubtful Thomas Blythe would be taught any lessons in this case.

“Well, then,” Jackson said, wiping foam from his mouth, “if by some miracle we should win, the humiliation alone would teach him something, and I know that you’re an honorable enough young man that you would share the credit with me for helping out.”

“And if we lose?” asked Micah.

Jackson laughed his high-pitched cackle. “I’ll remind everyone you were lead counsel, and you’ll take all the blame.”

The court reporter was a man a bit older than Micah. He arranged his pencils in a neat row, opened his pad, and stood beside his chair with his hands behind his back.

“You watch the wing over yonder,” Jackson said, nodding toward the left. “Walker’s a fella who has a fondness for the trappings of being a judge. You’ll get on his good side right off if you’re the one who sees him coming first and calls out for everyone to stand up.

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