Boston to Birmingham Ch. 03

"Maybe I'll turn you out. Good looking bitch like you would probably last three or four years before you got used up. I could make some real money before you were done. How would hubby like that?"

He leaned back, quite pleased with himself.

Gwen's sweet smile almost scared him.

"If you bumped heads with my husband, he probably kicked your ass and made you like it. I'm betting you haven't seen him lately. He's a lot bigger than he was, according to people who knew him then, and it's not fat. And thanks to me, he's not as friendly as he used to be. Maybe I'll tell him what you said."

"Or maybe, I'll just say fuck the deal, handle you myself, and put you away for a few years. You probably can't even find your fat ass with both hands, but they'll be guys there who'll be glad to find it for you. Who knows, when you get out you could maybe give your girls pointers on how to give a really good blow job or the proper way to take it up the ass. Good day, Mr. Johnson. Hope you learn to enjoy your new life."

The public defender scurried after her.

"He wants the deal, and said to tell you he was just kidding about all he said."

"Tell him it's a year now, take it or leave it."

She hadn't stopped walking.

"He'll take it."

She pulled Gwen into a hug, surprising her.

"Thanks, Aunt Gwen. I learned a lot back there."

Gwen was shocked.

"You're name is Chapman, right?"

"Yes Ma'am. Grandpa Hardy was my great aunts' brother in law. And my grandmother on my father's side is a Howe. You're related to most Chapmans, Grants, and Wilsons around here in one way or another. It's not all Wilkes, you know."

"Shit" Gwen thought as she walked back to her office, "I'm probably related to everybody in the state, one way or another."

Paul caught up with her as she walked.

"Got a minute?"

She grinned.

"You're my boss, think I'm gonna tell you to fuck off?"

He didn't know whether to laugh or not, but followed her into her office.

"Gwen, we got another case we need you to handle while we wait for the Escobar trial. This one gets a little tricky. Karen and I both are on murder trials, so you get this one."

"Come on, you're not telling me something. What's so special about this one?"

She didn't like the way he was skirting the subject.

"It involves the three strike law. And the accused is Sam Wilkes."

"Surely you know I'll do my best even if I'm sure somehow he's related to my husband, right?"

Paul hastened to assure her.

"We know. The thing is, his defense attorney is going to push this as a referendum on the three strike law. He kinds of specializing in hopeless cases like this, often with surprising results."

"I don't care, it'll make it more interesting. What's his name? Maybe I heard of him."

"Oh, you have, child, you have. His name is Hardy Wilkes."

The color drained from her face. Hardy. Her. Different sides in the same case. Could she handle her emotions? Could she sit at the table beside his for days without breaking down?

Could she do her job effectively for the state?

A calm settled over her.

"Can you handle this? Sarah has five more weeks of maternity leave, and Jimmy is still in traction from the softball accident. I just don't have anyone else."

"Don't worry Paul. I'm on it. One way or another, now he has to talk to me."

He was relieved.

"Good, here's the file. The kid doesn't deserve it, but the law is clear. Good luck."

.................................................

The file read like a Greek tragedy.

Sam Wilkes, twenty three years old. First felony at eighteen, caught joyriding with his cousins.

He wasn't driving, he wasn't in the car when they took it, all the others agreed, but he was still in the car when they pulled them over. Class D felony, probation.

Second felony at twenty, again because of his cousins. Caught in the middle of a bar fight. He hit a guy with a beer bottle, giving him a concussion and a fractured skull. Assault with a deadly weapon resulting in serious bodily injury. She read the transcripts.

"I didn't know a beer bottle was that strong, I see guys get hit in the head all the time in the movies, it breaks and they don't even slow down. I was just trying to get him off my cousin, I didn't mean to hurt him, really. I'm truly sorry."

The jury felt pity, but he still did six months.

Class B felony.

Two months ago he got popped for grand theft auto. He boosted a car from his employer, a vintage gull wing Mercedes. Got caught the next day, said he was bringing it back. The value on the car was over a hundred grand, Class A felony.

Three strikes. Life in prison, no negotiation. The thought made her physically ill. But the law was the law, and she was sworn to uphold it.

He was out on bond, since it was a nonviolent crime, bailed out by and currently living with Hardy.

.................................................

Hardy sat in deep thought. He didn't see much of a way out for Sammy. The three strike law was the result of a backlash against a wave of lawlessness by a previous administration. Wildly popular for awhile, lately support had been eroding. The cost of decades of imprisonment, the spike of inmate on inmate violence, and examples of cases like Sammy's had left the legal system frustrated. There was talk of a partial repeal, exempting nonviolent offenders, but nothing had actually been done.

A lot depended on jury selection. He knew if he could get enough working class people, people who distrusted the system, he may have a chance. There was an outside chance he could get him out from under life.

He hoped the a.d.a., Jimmy Richards, would be cooperative. A long trial would benefit no one.

That may or may not play into his favor.

Monday morning was ugly. The weather was giving way to the cold, rainy days of winter in central Alabama. A perfect day to fight for a life, Hardy thought as he, Sammy, Crystal Anne, and an assistant hired specifically to do juror analysis entered the court house. Entering the courtroom, they proceeded to their table and set up their equipment.

Oddly, the a.d.a. hadn't appeared yet. Generally the opposing attorneys chatted for a few moments before the judge entered, but today there would be no chance.

Judge Harlin was a surprise. Seventy four, he had been retired for a few years, filling in once in a while for a day or so on minor trials for a sick or vacationing judge. He enjoyed it, said it kept him from getting senile while making him appreciate retirement. He had been pressed into service rather suddenly when the judge originally slated to hear the case got caught in chambers with a defendant, working out a plea deal that included oral sex. Unfortunately, he was performing it on a young man who wasn't happy.

The judge was allowed to quietly retire, pleading guilty to coercion and crimes against nature. A plea bargain that kept him out of jail, but unfortunately not civil court. He would soon be divorced, broke, and shunned.

He strode in quickly, catching everyone by surprise. The bailiff hastily called the court to session.

"Don't bother rising, I'm a little early. Let's get down to business shall we? Please call the first case, bailiff."

"In the matter of the state versus Samuel Jerome Wilkes, grand theft auto. Is the defendant and counsel present?"

Hardy stood.

"We are, Wilkes for the defense. Good morning, your Honor."

There was a twinkle in the judges' eye. He and Hardy went back a long way. He was the judge that offered Hardy a chance to go into the military and avoid a criminal record all those years ago.

"I'm fine. It's good to see you again, Mr. Wilkes. I'm glad to see you gainfully employed, even if it is as a defense lawyer."

The judge was widely known for his intolerance of defense lawyer antics, and general low opinion of the profession.

The judge frowned, noting the empty table normally used by the prosecution.

"Is the prosecution present?"

"No your honor." The bailiff looked over his paperwork.

"It's supposed to be Jimmy Richards, but he recently was involved in an accident. Representing the state will be...."

He paused, about to say the name, when a voice spoke up from the back of the courtroom.

"Gwen Canaday for the state your honor. I apologize for being late, but in my defense you seemed to have started a little early."

Time seemed to stand still for Hardy. There she stood, crisp, professional, and just as beautiful as he remembered. He had only seen her once after the picnic, from a distance. He was still surprised how much it hurt.

He moved quickly.

"In light of this substitution your honor, may I approach the bench?"

The judge was a shrewd old man and had noticed Hardys' face when the prosecutor entered. He motioned them both to the bench.

It almost took his breath away to stand so near her, the familiar smell of her perfume in his nostrils.

He didn't know where to start. The judge grew impatient.

"You asked for this boy, spit it out. What am I missing here?"

"Judge, I would like to ask for another prosecutor assigned to this case. It may be a little awkward."

"Why would it be awkward? Somebody better start makin' sense in a hurry."

Gwen actually smirked.

"What Mr. Wilkes isn't telling you, sir, is that we are man and wife. Estranged, but still legally married. Please tell Mr. Wilkes that I will do my best to be professional and adhere to the guidelines of these proceedings. If he's afraid of me, he is encouraged to withdraw so his client can be adequately served."

The judge spoke.

"Mr. Wilkes, the words out of your mouth next better be respectful and calm. You're swelled up like a bullfrog choking on a horsefly. I'm probably the only one here who remembers your inability to control your temper. This is my court, by God, and you two will behave or I'll throw you into the same cell. Do we understand each other? Mr Wilkes?"

"Yes, sir." He managed to grate out.

Ms 'Canaday' is it, do you understand?"

She smiled sweetly.

"Yes sir. And, you're wrong. I'm quite familiar with his temper, intimately, in fact."

"Hot Damn!" the judge thought, "we haven't started yet and it's already getting hot. This might just be a lot of fun."

Making a little note to himself to research the couple in front of him, he banged his gavel and jury selection began.

................................................

Gwen caught on pretty quick when it came to his juror selection. She fought, got a couple law and order types past him, and he ran a few unrepentant liberals in, but the bulk were just average folks, which may help Hardy. A hung jury can often be as good as an acquittal.

The first day of the actual trial set the tone. There was a lot of attention being given by the media and legal watch groups on both sides of the spectrum. When word got out it was wife versus husband, it added another dimension.

It started when the Plea was entered.

"Not guilty" resonated through the room. No surprise there. It was a bit surprising when he pushed to have the charges dismissed, saying the defendant had permission to drive the vehicle, so it couldn't possibly be stolen.

Sam won the hearts of the spectators, if not the jurors.

Bumbling, shy, almost in tears a lot, he was a difficult witness for both sides.

"Yes, ma'am" he answered when she asked if he took the car.

"Did the owner of the car know you had it?"

"No ma'am."

"So if he didn't know you took it, it means you stole it, right?"

Hardy was on his feet instantly.

"Objection! Leading in the worst way, your honor."

"Sustained. Careful Mrs. Wil... I mean Ms. Canaday."

"Noted, your honor."

She turned to the jurors.

"He admitted he took the car. He admitted that the owner didn't know he had the car. Think about it."

Turning to the judge, she said she had no more questions at the time.

She looked over at Hardy.

"You're witness hon...Mr. Wilkes."

Glowing, Hardy rose.

"Thank you MISS Canaday."

He looked at Sammy. He hung his head in fear and shame.

"Sammy, look at me son."

He raised his head.

"Sammy, did you take the car?"

"Yes sir, I did."

"Why?"

"Because it was dirty! It was filthy. A beautiful car, a classic. It should have been pampered, stored carefully and cleaned with a loving touch."

"What did you do when you took it besides spending most of the night cleaning it? Did you joyride, strip the gears, blow the engine? Where were you going when they caught you?"

Jimmy looked horrified.

"I never even hit the speed limit. They knew I had it. I called and told Will, the owners son, that I had detailed it and was bringing it back. He chewed me out, told me they didn't know who had it and his dad had called the cops. He promised he was going to call them back and tell them it wasn't stolen."

He looked over at the judge.

"I'd like to enter the following phone call as evidence."

He looked at Gwen and she nodded, she had already heard it.

"Hello, Jefferson County Sheriff Department."

"Hey, this is Will Landis. My father reported his Mercedes stolen yesterday. I just found out it wasn't stolen, Jimmy, the guy who does odd jobs on our farm took it home and detailed it. He kept after me to let him clean it, and I joked and told him when he thought it was dirty enough he could do it. I didn't know he meant to take it away to do it. Anyway, he's on his way back to our house with it now."

"Sir, are you withdrawing the stolen car complaint?"

"Yeah, I guess I am. Sammy wouldn't steal a dime, he just ain't real smart sometimes."

"all right sir, I'll withdraw the compliant. Have a nice day."

"Thanks, bye."

He let the silence hang for awhile before he turned back to Sammy.

"Tell me, how did you get charged if they knew you were bringing it back?"

"I got pulled over right after I talked to Will. Nobody knew it wasn't stole, and they locked me up. I tried again and again to explain but they wouldn't listen. Finally they told me to hush and call my lawyer. So as soon as I got to jail I called you."

"Why did you call me?"

He seemed surprised by the question.

"Cause you're my cousin and I trust you. And, you're the only lawyer I know."

This brought a few smiles and snickers from the crowd.

"No more questions, your honor."

The judge looked at his watch.

"It's three thirty. Want to adjourn early and prepare closing arguments?"

Gwen asked that she present closing arguments before they adjourn.

"I promise it'll be short. We might even get in both sides before five. May I proceed?"

The judge gave his assent. She rose and paced in front of the jurors.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Sammy seems like a nice, gentle person. I'm sure he wouldn't harm a soul intentionally. No offense to the defendant, but he isn't the brightest individual. I'm sure he meant well. I'm sure he never meant to keep the car. If he had been a little smarter I'm sure he would have realized his friend Will was joking when he said he could clean the car when it got really dirty."

She paused, the jurors could see the sadness in her face.

"But the fact is he did take it. Will is only sixteen, he had no legal right to make decisions about the vehicle. It belonged to his father, an adult, and he insisted we prosecute. So we did."

"Sammy has without a doubt lived a hard life. No guidance, bad personal decisions, bad company, and circumstances beyond his control in some cases has resulted in him being before us today."

"All that being said, his mistakes, intentional or otherwise, brought him here. He does have felony convictions, this is his third if convicted, and the law says three strikes and you're out, or rather in this case in, for life."

"The law was made before I came to live in this great state, but ladies and gentlemen, IT IS the law, and as an officer of the court I am honor bound to see it enforced."

"If you can, be merciful. I have a lot of sympathy for him. You see, I myself have a life sentence hanging over me."

She paused and the judge frowned. Both he and Hardy weren't following her line of thought.

"Most of you know by now counsel for the defense is my husband. We're estranged, but still married. I committed a crime against him, a mortal one, one that has no forgiveness. I cheated on him, disrespecting everything he holds dear. It's been almost a year, and he refuses to speak to me.

"I've tried every legal way I can to let me talk to him, beg him for another chance. I've almost given up hope. So by my own actions I've condemned myself to a life without hope or happiness. Though it's not the same, I have a lot of empathy for this young man."

"I've done my job. I've presented the facts as they are. I've told the general outlines of the punishment, the judge will address the details in his instructions to you. All I can ask is you find some way to have a little mercy on a young man who doesn't deserve to die in prison."

Thank you for your service, and may God be with you in your decisions."

She looked at the judge as tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Thank you, your honor. Prosecution rests."

There was an uncomfortable silence before the judge crashed his gavel down.

"Ms. Canaday, I don't know whether to praise you or censure you. Don't think I'm ignoring your cute little trick at the end. That was your one chance. Try something like that in front of me again and I'll fry your little Yankee butt, do you understand?"

"Yes your honor, my apologies."

"All right then." He looked at his watch. "Court is hereby adjourned until nine tomorrow morning."

Gwen left, not daring to look at Hardy. If she had, she would have seen him sitting with his head in his hands, trying to hold back tears.

................................................

"Good morning, your honor, counselor, members of the jury."

"Yesterday you heard my opposition wax elegantly in her closing argument, citing facts and pulling heart strings."

"I agree with her on a lot of the key issues. The three strike law isn't justice, it fits the very description of cruel and unusual punishment. I can see it being applied to a small element of very dangerous offenders, but to send a twenty three year old away for life for cleaning a car is just wrong."

"Look at him, ladies and gentlemen, he's scared to death. Twelve people he's never even seen before this began literally have the power of life or death over him."

"If he goes to prison, he'll expect and pray for miracles the first two or three years. By the fifth year the light will start to go out of his eyes, and by the tenth he'll be a soulless lump that wouldn't even know how to survive in the real world. By then he would be thirty three, with at least forty more years to go."

"Yes he took the car, but he thought he had permission. The teenage son was willing to testify he led him to believe that he could clean the car. He was almost back with it when he got pulled over. If the dad hadn't been so angry at someone driving his pride and joy, charges would have been dropped."

He's a good kid, not emotionally ready to be a man. He took the car, he admitted it willingly, this is just a simple incident blown way out of hand. Find him guilty of something, but don't destroy a person who is innately good."

"Think about in economic terms. It costs a nationwide average of $30,000 per year to house, feed, and provide health care to a prisoner. The health care costs go up as the prisoner gets older. Sammy will probably live at least fifty more years, it will cost this state between 1.2 to 1.6 million to punish him for cleaning a car without permission. Think of the good you could do with that money, the road improvements, the new schools, the rehab and prevention programs that could be funded. Does this law make sense to you now?"