按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
these two groups separated； for obvious reasons。〃
Nugent couldn't sit any longer； and stood stiffly at the end of the table。 All eyes were on him。 He studied his notes for a second。
〃This execution will be different because of Mr。 Cayhall's notoriety。 It will attract a lot of attention； a lot of media； a lot of other loonies。 We must act professionally at all times； and I will not tolerate any breach of the rules of conduct。 Mr。 Cayhall and his family are entitled to respect during these last few days。 No off…color ments about the gas chamber or the execution。 I will not stand for it。 Any questions？〃
Nugent surveyed the room and was quite pleased with himself。 He'd covered it all。 No questions。 〃Very well。 We'll meet again in the morning at nine。〃 He dismissed them； and the room emptied hurriedly。
Garner Goodman caught Professor John Bryan Glass as he was leaving his office and headed for a lecture。 The class was forgotten as the two stood in the hallway and swapped pliments。 Glass had read all of Goodman's books； and Goodman had read most of Glass' recent articles condemning the death penalty。 The conversation quickly turned to the Cayhall mess； and specifically to Goodman's pressing need for a handful of trustworthy law students who could assist with a quick research project over the weekend。 Glass offered his help； and the two agreed to have lunch in a few hours to pursue the matter。
Three blocks from the Mississippi College School of Law； Goodman found the small and cramped offices of Southern Capital Defense Group； a quasi federal agency with small； cramped offices in every state in the Death Belt。 The director was a young； black； Yale…educated lawyer named Hez Kerry； who had forsaken the riches of the big firms and dedicated his life to abolishing the death penalty。 Goodman had met him on two prior occasions at conferences。 Though Kerry's Group； as it was referred to； did not directly represent every inmate on death row； it did have the responsibility of monitoring every case。 Hez was thirty…one years old and aging quickly。 The gray hair was evidence of the pressure of forty…seven men on death row。
On a wall above the secretary's desk in the foyer was a small calendar； and across the top of it someone had printed the words BIRTHDAYS ON DEATH ROW。 Everybody got a card； nothing more。 The budget was tight； and the cards were usually purchased with pocket change collected around the office。
The group had two lawyers working under Kerry's supervision； and only one full…time secretary。 A few students from the law school worked several hours a week； for free。
Goodman talked with Hez Kerry for more than an hour。 They planned their movements for next Tuesday … Kerry himself would camp out at the clerk's office at the Mississippi Supreme Court。 Goodman would stay at the governor's office。 John Bryan Glass would be recruited to sit in the Fifth Circuit's satellite office in the federal courthouse in Jackson。 One of Goodman's former associates at Kravitz & Bane now worked in Washington； and he had already agreed to wait at the Death Clerk's desk。 Adam would be left to sit on the Row with the client and coordinate the last minute calls。
Kerry agreed to participate in Goodman's market analysis project over the weekend。
At eleven； Goodman returned to the governor's office in the state capitol； and handed to Lawyer Larramore a written request for a clemency hearing。 The governor was out of the office； very busy these days； and he； Larramore； would see him just after lunch。 Goodman left his phone number at the Millsaps…Buie House； and said he would call in periodically。
He then drove to his new office； now supplied with the finest rental furniture available on two months' lease； cash of course。 The folding chairs were leftovers from a church fellowship hall； according to the markings under the seats。 The rickety tables too had seen their share of potluck suppers and wedding receptions。
Goodman admired his hastily assembled little hole…in…the…wall。 He took a seat； and on a new cellular phone he called his secretary in Chicago；
Adam's office in Memphis； his wife at home； and the governor's hotline。
By 4 P。m。 Thursday； the Mississippi Supreme Court still had not denied the claim based on Sam's alleged mental inpetence。 Almost thirty hours had passed since Adam filed it。 He'd made a nuisance of himself calling the court's clerk。 He was tired of explaining the obvious … he needed an answer； please。 There was not the slightest trace of optimism that the court was actually considering the merits of the claim。 The court； in Adam's opinion； was dragging its feet and delaying his rush to federal court。 At this point； relief in the state supreme court was impossible； he felt。
He wasn't exactly on a roll in the federal courts either。 The U。S。 Supreme Court had not ruled on his request to consider the claim that the gas chamber was unconstitutional。 The Fifth Circuit was sitting on his ineffectiveness of counsel claim。
Nothing was moving on Thursday。 The courts were just sitting there as if these were ordinary lawsuits to be filed and assigned and docketed； then continued and delayed for years。 He needed action； preferably a stay granted at some level； or if not a stay then an oral argument； or a hearing on the merits； or even a denial so he could move on to the next court。
He paced around the table in his office and listened for the phone。 He was tired of pacing
TC20 60 and sick of the phone。 The office was littered with the debris of a dozen briefs。 The table was blanketed with disheveled piles of paper。 Pink and yellow phone messages were stuck along one bookshelf。
Adam suddenly hated the place。 He needed fresh air。 He told Darlene he was going for a walk； and left the building。 It was almost five； still bright and very warm。 He walked to the Peabody Hotel on Union； and had a drink in a corner of the lobby near the piano。 It was his first drink since Friday in New Orleans； and although he enjoyed it he worried about Lee。 He looked for her in the crowd of conventioneers flocking around the registration desk。 He watched the tables in the lobby fill up with well…dressed people； hoping that for some reason she would appear。 Where do you hide when you're fifty years old and running from life？
A man with a ponytail and hiking boots stopped and stared； then walked over。 〃Excuse me； sir。 Are you Adam Hall； the lawyer for Sam Cayhall？〃
Adam nodded。
The man smiled； obviously pleased that he'd recognized Adam； and walked to his table。 〃I'm Kirk Kleckner with the New York Times。〃 He laid a business card in front of Adam。 〃I'm here covering the Cayhall execution。 Just arrived； actually。 May I sit down？〃
Adam waved at the empty seat across the small round table。 Kleckner sat down。 〃Lucky to find you here；〃 he said； all smiles。 He was in his early forties with a rugged； globe…trotting journalist look … scruffy beard； sleeveless cotton vest over a denim shirt； jeans。 〃Recognized you from some pictures I studied on the flight down。〃
〃Nice to meet you；〃 Adam said dryly。
〃Can we talk？〃
〃About what？〃
〃Oh； lots of things。 I understand your client will not give interviews。〃
〃That's corre