Final Justice (52 page)

"Yes, you do, because all you'll be doing is admitting you killed Rudy and you're throwing yourself on the mercy of the court. The jury will then be lenient and give you a prison sentence. You'll be out on parole in a few years. If you plead not guilty, that means a long, drawn-out trial. I'll have to ask the court to have you evaluated by a psychiatrist in hopes that he'd testify you were genuinely in fear for your life when you committed murder. On the other hand, if he doesn't think so, and there's a chance he might not, then the court will show no mercy, and you'll go to the electric chair."

She was swept with terror. "But I have to try. And Luke will help me. I know he will."

"How can he help you when they're saying he has brain damage?" Burch had not heard that, but what difference did it make? Any means to justify the end, by damn.

"No, that can't be..."

"But it can be, my dear. After all, a bullet went in his brain. He probably won't ever be completely normal. He might not remember everything—
everyone
—in his life, including you."

Slowly, her hands slipped down the bars as her knees began to buckle. Sinking to the floor, she rolled into a fetal position and began to weep.

Burch knelt beside the bars, and, making his voice sound husky with compassion, said, "I'm your friend, Emma Jean. You must believe that. Why else would I have offered my services for free to defend you? Everybody else in town hates you for what you did, but I care about you. I want to take care of you, and I will, if you'll trust me and do as I say: plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the court."

He reached through the cell bars to slowly run his fingers down her arm. "Emma Jean, will you let me help you? There's no one else. Sara might care, but she can't really do anything for you. She can't be a witness because she wasn't there. Luke won't be able to do anything because he's an idiot. I hear he babbles and drools and can't control his bowels or his bladder and has to wear a diaper, and..."

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" She screamed and covered her ears with her hands. "Don't talk about him like that. Don't say things like that. If Luke won't be like he was before, then I don't care what happens to me. I don't care, do you hear me? So do what you will. I don't care..."

Her cries became hysterical as she seemed to melt into the floor in her hopelessness.

Burch stood, feeling quite satisfied with himself. "Well, I care about you, Emma Jean. Now get hold of yourself and try to get a good night's sleep. You're in good hands."

Whistling under his breath, head high, and feeling better than he had in too long to remember, he merrily went his way.

Chapter 31

The courtroom was packed; the atmosphere was tense. Some of Rudy Veazey's kin had camped out on the lawn the night before so they could rush inside the second the doors were unlocked. Then they stretched out on the hard wooden benches to save seats for the rest of their clan, which left little room for anyone else. Just about everyone in the hills surrounding Hampton was related to the Veazeys in some way, and they had banded together wanting revenge for the death of one of their own.

Sara was able to find a seat only by pushing and shoving her way in but wound up on the back row. At least she was next to the aisle, where she could watch for Luke. She also intended to run down to the front of the courtroom when Emma Jean entered to give her his message. She had tried to call Woody McElrath the day before, but his wife sounded strange when she said he was out of town. Sara began to fret that maybe he hadn't found a way to help and didn't want to admit it and wouldn't come to the phone.

Alma walked in, saw Sara, and leaned to hiss furiously in her ear, "I heard about you sneaking in the hospital Friday night, you little hussy. Do it again, and I swear I'll have you arrested."

Sara swept her with a flash of contempt. "We both know why you tried to keep me out, Alma, but it won't work. He loves Emma Jean, and he'll be here to help her. Just wait and see."

Alma's hands shook, itching to slap her. "If we were anywhere else I'd claw your eyes out. And you're crazy if you think he'll be here. He can't walk, you fool."

She proceeded down the aisle. Emma Jean craned her neck to watch as Alma sat down with the Veazey family directly behind the railing next to the prosecutor's table and Mel Parker.

The woman sitting next to Sara opened a bag and took out a banana and began to peel it. She saw Sara watching and politely offered, "Want one? I got pig's feet and pickled eggs, too. When they break for lunch, I don't intend to give up my seat."

"No, thanks," Sara mumbled. She'd never seen her before and figured her to be distant Veazey kin.

"Wonder if the murderin' hussy will stand trial for shooting the sheriff, too."

"She didn't shoot him," Sara curtly said.

The woman looked her up and down. "How come you know so much? Everybody says she did."

"Everybody is wrong." Sara turned away, and the woman gave a haughty sniff but didn't say anything else.

Suddenly a stirring rippled through the room as the door behind the Judge's bench opened and Matt walked in with Emma Jean. She was wearing orange button-up coveralls, jail-issue. Her hair had been combed but obviously needed washing.

Bertha Veazey leaped to her feet and screamed, "Murdering bitch. You killed my boy."

Wilbur Veazey joined in. "You better hope they fry your ass before I get my hands on you."

Matt warned, "I've told you the judge isn't going to put up with that. He will clear the courtroom."

They sat back down, grumbling.

Emma Jean kept her head down as Matt led her to the chair behind the table where Burch Cleghorn was already seated. Matt unfastened the handcuffs, then took his place behind her. Sara's heart sank. Where was the spirit she had witnessed in Emma Jean when she had seen her before? What had Burch said to make her so cowed?

Rudy's Aunt Pinella was sitting directly in front of Sara and said to no one in particular, "That Burch Cleghorn is a fine man. He knows she's guilty, and he ain't gonna waste taxpayers' money by trying to prove she ain't. When this is all over, I'm going to make him one of my pecan pies."

Sara could not resist blurting, "And I hope he chokes on every bite."

The woman next to Sara poked her in the side with a banana. "You better stick this in your mouth or you're gonna start a riot."

Sara was not about to be quiet. She started down the aisle, intent on telling Emma Jean not to worry, that Luke would be there. But she had not gone far when Kirby grabbed her arm. "Don't make me have to run out of here, Sara," he said quietly. "Now get in your seat and stay there, please."

"I need to speak to Emma Jean."

"Well, you can't. Now hush. The jury is coming in."

Sara watched as they filed in, tight-lipped and somber. She hoped they would keep an open mind but felt a jury should have been brought in from another part of the state or the trial moved elsewhere. There had just been too much talk, and too many opinions formed about Emma Jean's guilt. But, of course, Burch hadn't asked for any changes.

Next, Matt went to stand in front of the bench and face the room to announce, "All rise."

Sara stood along with everyone else but was not listening to the court preamble Matt was reciting, intent on watching for Luke.

Judge Barrett wore a long black robe over a white shirt and tie. Stern eyes peered over the round glasses perched on the end of his nose. What hair he had left was a silver halo around his bald spot. In his personal life, he was a loving husband, father, and grandfather. But when he was in his courtroom, he was known to be harsh and put up with no nonsense from spectators or counsel.

He banged his gavel. "Be seated." He began to read from the docket before him. "The State of Alabama versus Emma Jean Veazey. Superior Court file number SC 1245. Will the defendant rise."

A soft murmur went through the crowd as Emma Jean slowly, shakily, got to her feet.

"You have been charged with the murder of Rudolph Morris Veazey on October 31st, 1969. How do you plead?"

Sara held her breath, glancing towards the door again, then at Emma Jean. She could not hear what she said. Neither could anyone else. Judge Barrett asked her to speak up.

"Guilty," came her feeble croak.

Sara's horrified cry of "Dear God, no," went unheard amidst the relieved chorus ringing all around.

Burch stood, making sure he was loud enough for everyone to hear. "Your honor, my client wishes to place herself at the mercy of this court. She declines to testify nor offer any evidence on her behalf. Further, she respectfully requests that the sentencing hearing commence at once."

Burch sat down. Emma Jean already had, placing her head on the table, face to the wall. Sara again looked to the door, sick to the pit of her soul. Burch had manipulated Emma Jean into capitulation, and God help her if Luke didn't show.

"How say the state?" Judge Barrett asked of Mel Parker.

Mel stood. "The state requests that the jury hear the evidence against the defendant and then convene to recommend sentence."

"Proceed."

Mel gathered up some papers and went to stand at the railing next to the jury and began to read. "The state charges that on the night of October 31st, 1969, the defendant did willfully, and with malice aforethought, cause the death of her husband, Rudolph Morris Veazey, by stabbing him seven times with a butcher knife."

Mel went back to his desk and picked up a knife with a white tag hanging from the handle. Holding it up for everyone to see, he then placed it on a table near the court reporter. "Please record this as state's evidence: the murder weapon."

He turned back to the jury. "In addition to stabbing her husband, Emma Jean Veazey bit off a portion of his penis."

A roar went through the crowd, and Rudy's parents again leaped up to shake their fists and scream out at Emma Jean.

Judge Barrett viciously pounded his gavel. "Another outburst, and I will clear the courtroom."

Like a giant hand sweeping, everyone fell silent.

Mel cleared his throat and continued. "The state maintains that this brutal slaying was premeditated, and, under Alabama law, the death sentence is warranted and justified.

He pointed a finger and swept the jury with a challenging gaze, "And I charge you to recommend that sentence, that you show no more mercy to this cold-blooded murderess than she showed to her husband the night she so ruthlessly killed him."

Sara craned to see Emma Jean. She had not moved, head still resting on her folded arms, face to the wall. Mel returned to his desk and sat down. The Veazeys leaned over the railing to pat his shoulder for what they felt was a job well done. Alma was grinning all around. Burch was leaning back in his chair, staring off into space, pretending, Sara knew, to appear concerned.

Judge Barrett told the jury they could recommend death or life in prison, with or without parole. Then he sent them out to begin deliberations and declared a recess until they finished. Matt put the handcuffs back on Emma Jean and led her out. Most people stayed in their seats, not about to give them up, confident it would not take the jury long to agree on a sentence of death.

Sara knew it was all over. Luke's friends hadn't been able to find a way to get him there, and Emma Jean was doomed. She took one last look around, and that was when she saw Betsy Borden standing in a corner. Those around her had squeezed against each other to put as much room as possible between them and her because she smelled like fish, and other things, like garbage and chicken droppings from sleeping in roost houses.

Betsy locked eyes with her, then quickly looked away. Was she feeling guilt, Sara wondered, to know that she might be able to save Emma Jean but refused to do so?

Sara cut her gaze to Burch, despising him more with every breath she drew. As though feeling her wrath, he turned around to flash a triumphant smile. Childishly, crudely, she held up her middle finger.

The minutes ticked by. Sara's stomach began to cramp. It was time for her period. All the stress was probably going to make her start early. She clenched and unclenched her fists, stared up at the ceiling, then at the floor, taking long, deep breaths to try and make her heart slow down, all the while wondering what had happened to Luke. Did he give up? No. He'd never do that. The people he was counting on had let him down. That's all it could be. She wished with all her might she hadn't left it to them and insisted on being a part of whatever plans were made to see they were carried out. By not doing so, she felt like she'd failed him, too.