Читать книгу A New Requiem - B. Lance Jenkins - Страница 8

Day of wrath

That day will dissolve the Earth in ashes.

The sun rose just as it always had. Saturday mornings were Ben’s favorite. Usually.

He woke up after only a few hours of sleep. Ready and dressed in no more than fifteen minutes, he grabbed his briefcase and headed out the door of his empty house. He needed breakfast before a busy day. He drove to his office, then walked to 3rd Street Café on his usual stroll there for a weekend brunch. On Saturday mornings, no one was ever out unless they were at 3rd Street Café, and this morning proved no exception.

A few cars passed by Ben as he walked along the sidewalk, but they came in spurts and usually one at a time. Some of those who drove by stuck their hand out the window to wave at him, which in the South was almost a more obligatory act than anything else. He didn’t feel like anyone recognized him; they just waved as if they were indebted as genuine Southerners to do so.

Morning birds chirped in harmony on the cool late spring morning that welcomed comfortable temperatures, bringing a peace over Ben that he feared he might not enjoy for long.

Ben walked in the front door of 3rd Street Café to a packed eatery. Outside, Freeden looked like a ghost town. Inside, the café emulated Wall Street. There was a seat at the lunch counter, though, and that’s where Ben went.

“Coffee?” the server asked as he ran around behind the counter, scrambled and disoriented due to piling responsibilities from waiting tables at a traditionally short-staffed venue.

“Black, please,” Ben replied.

The place was loud, but Ben could hear the conversation the three men next to him at the counter were having, and it was clear that they had heard about Dwight.

“They say they found him at the school early yesterday evening,” one said.

“Do they know who did it?”

“That Dwight Kerry, teacher over there at the school.”

“Isn’t he a gay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be damned, that’s what you get for letting queers teach the school children.”

The third of them took a sip of his coffee. “They ought to let a firing squad shoot him dead at the front of the school building.”

“No, no that would be too quick – what they ought to do is have somebody do him the same way he did Dale’s boy.”

“The faggot would like that too much,” the other said.

“It’s a damn shame our police can’t walk into the jailhouse and torture and kill that son of a bitch. What has our world come to, letting these freaks walk around, rapin’ and killin’? What has it come to?”

Indeed, Ben wondered, what has the world come to? What has Freeden come to? It’s a damn shame. How has this place I loved turned into such a hateful, scummy place? Why are people out here letting hearsay rule their opinions before even considering the development of their own? The way he viewed it, the town had become a judgement-spouting megaphone, and hate had its finger on the operating button.

About that time, Aaron walked in.

“What you say, Johnny?” he said to one of them as he walked over, standing behind the three men.

“Me and the boys just talking about what happened last night.”

“Can you believe that?” he replied. “It’s all over the paper this morning.”

“Waiter!” Johnny shouted playfully at the server working the counter. “Why ain’t y’all got the paper yet this morning?”

“They haven’t delivered it.”

“Well, you just wait until you see it,” Aaron said. Then he looked over and noticed Ben. “I’ll be, there he is right there.”

Ben looked forward and did not even glance at Aaron. He was not eager to engage in conversation.

“He who?” one of them next to Johnny asked.

“Ben Bailey,” Aaron said as he pointed at Ben. “Do y’all know this man?”

Ben hung his head down, trying to remain calm. He knew Aaron was up to no good.

“I’m afraid I do not,” Johnny said.

“’Fraid not,” one said.

“Looks familiar,” the other said.

“Oh yeah?” Aaron paused, and started walking toward Ben. “Looks familiar, you say?”

Ben now stared directly ahead at the mirror across from the counter. He saw Aaron walking toward him.

“He does look a bit familiar,” Johnny said.

“Oh I’m sure you’ve seen him in here,” Aaron continued. “But when that paper gets here, you’ll recognize him there, too. He’s on the front page of it today.” Aaron was about six feet away, continuing to walk slowly toward Ben. “This man is the Ben Bailey in today’s headline, you see.” He finally arrived and stood right next to Ben. Ben continued to look forward. “He’s Dwight Kerry’s attorney.”

“The queer we were just talking about?”

Aaron leaned over and whispered in Ben’s ear. “You’re fucking done here.”

Then he backed away from Ben – slowly.

“This boy right here is defending that faggot?” one asked.

“Oh yes,” Aaron replied, “and he’s from here, too!”

“Momma didn’t raise you real well did she?” Johnny said.

“It’s amazing what money will get people to do,” the other said. “Damn shame.”

“Money has nothing to do with it, and you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ben finally spoke.

“If you can sleep at night knowing you’re defending that murderer – fine!” Johnny said. “But you’ll have to answer to the good Lord for this.”

“Hey, Bob, this man over here is that Dwight Kerry’s attorney,” one of them said as he pointed to Ben.

Bob was the owner of 3rd Street Café, and he usually only showed up for breakfast and was gone by ten a.m. each day. Since Ben rarely graced 3rd Street Café with his presence on weekday mornings, Bob did not know how much of a lunch regular he was. It likely would not have mattered in this moment, though, as an angry Bob got up from the table he was sitting at with friends and walked over to the counter.

“Are you kidding me?” Bob asked as he made his way over. Capturing the attention of all restaurant guests, he yelled, “Dale’s a friend of mine!”

The restaurant suddenly grew quiet as Bob, an overweight and irritable staple of Freeden, towered over a seated Ben at the lunch counter.

“Dale’s a good guy, and I know this is a terrible situation,” Ben said.

“Terrible situation?” he yelled. “His boy is dead!”

“I am aware of that, and–”

“If you’re defending that fag, you’re not welcomed here.”

“Bob, please… with all due respect I’m a regular and I live here and–”

“I don’t care who you are and where you live,” he said. “You’re not welcomed at my restaurant.”

Ben sighed, staring into Bob’s eyes. “What happened to Dale’s boy is awful, I understand and sympathize with that–”

“I don’t think you understand a damn thing!” Bob yelled. “Get out of my restaurant!”

Ben recognized that the situation was not going to improve and wanted to be sensitive to emotions, but still felt incredibly wronged by this. He looked around the restaurant, and everyone was looking at him. Some of them may not have even known what was going on, but it was obvious he was being kicked out of the place. He looked over at Aaron, who had retreated to a corner booth and was shamelessly grinning. As Ben saw it, Aaron stirred the pot, and knew how to do it well. No wonder that wife fucker fits in so well here.

Ben nodded to affirm that he was leaving. The place was silent. He walked over to the cashier at the far end of the counter.

“I need to pay,” he said to the cashier.

“We don’t need that blood money,” Bob yelled. “I’m not taking money from someone who profits from defending murderers and rapists!”

Ben turned his head in astonishment. This kept getting worse. People were starting to chatter.

“What’s going on?” one woman asked her husband.

“Is that Ben Bailey? The man who is defending Dwight?” another woman asked.

“You should have heard what he did to Dr. Henson’s daughter,” another woman said to her husband. “He’s a bastard of a man.”

“I heard Dwight killed a kid,” another man said at a table of men.

The place was full of chatter and gossip, even before Ben had the chance to get out the door. Ben knew gossip was embedded in the heart of this town, and the majority of those sitting in 3rd Street Café relished in the opportunity to indulge themselves.

Ben walked away from the counter, and as he walked toward the door, the place grew silent once more.

Ben was nearly at the door when Bob said, “And don’t come back ever again.”

Ben kept walking.

“Keep eating folks, all is good here,” Bob shouted as the door closed behind Ben.

Ben left the building and started walking to his office. His heart was racing at what had just happened, only two miles from his old home-place. This was his hometown, and he had just been kicked out of the most famous place to eat in the tri-county area.

Word had gotten out that he was defending Dwight, and his suspicions about how the town would react were already coming true. The most worrisome thing was that, as a whole, the majority of the town likely still didn’t know he was going to defend Dwight. And the response so far was already ugly.

He reminded himself as he walked away from the restaurant that he committed the previous night to doing the right thing for Dwight no matter what, and while there was still much to be done to determine Dwight’s innocence, it was not the time to sentence him just yet. Although, the court of public opinion seemed to already be voting in favor of a conviction. And from the sound of the 3rd Street Café patron’s rhetoric, an execution.

As he walked along the sidewalk back toward his office, a truck pulled up next to him, driving in parking area that ran parallel between the street and the sidewalk. It was Aaron. He rolled his window down.

“You know you’re done here, right?” he asked as he continued to drive slowly forward to keep up with Ben.

“Please,” Ben replied, “I have no reason to talk to you.”

“And Rachel wanted to leave anyway you know?”

Ben kept walking. “Well, that makes two of us that are happier then, doesn’t it?”

“There is no way you’ll be able to stay here after all this.”

“Wouldn’t you be pleased?”

“Oh I would. I want you gone.”

“Yeah, dick measuring with me never really worked well for you, did it?”

“Got jokes, huh?”

“Aaron, I do not have time for this.”

“I just want you to remember that your wife sucked my big fat cock more in the last week alone than she ever did yours.”

Ben sped up the walking. “Aaron, I don’t have time for this. Go to hell.”

“Oh buddy, that’s where you’re going when they get done with you here.”

He drove off. Ben stopped once he sped off in his big Chevrolet Silverado 2500. When they get done with me here? What does that mean? Were Aaron and the good ole boys he hung with going to try to hurt him? He did not know what to expect after this chaotic morning.

He kept walking and finally got back to the office, went inside, and locked the door. He picked up his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts.

BRENDA HALEY.

He clicked her name and it began to ring.

She picked up. “Is it true?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Jesus, Ben, you know this ain’t good?”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you call us? Like usual?”

“There’s nothing usual about this. It was late. I knew it could wait until morning.”

“It’s all over the front page of the Freeden Tribune. Have you seen it?”

“Not yet, but I’ve heard about it in a, let’s say, contentious environment at 3rd Street this morning.”

“You gotta see it. It isn’t good for us.”

“I need you and the team down here as soon as possible. Bring it with you please.”

“I’ll call around.”

“Be safe.”

“Yes sir.”

Brenda knew when not to be funny and keep it together. And she was the best employee Ben had ever hired. She would always do what he asked, so long as it was right and ethical. And Ben could always count on her to do what was best for the firm.

An hour later, most of the team had arrived.

Brenda walked into Ben’s office. “We’re ready.”

“Yeah? Everybody here?”

She shook her head. “Negative.”

“Who isn’t?”

“Kelly and Dana.”

“Hmm,” he replied, “what was their reason?”

She stood there with her clipboard, reading her notes. “Well, Kelly’s husband wouldn’t let her.”

“Was he scared for her or embarrassed?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say embarrassed. The way she sounded implied her husband would have fit in with the crowd you saw at 3rd Street this morning,” she said, as she dropped the Saturday morning Freeden Tribune on his desk.

“Figures.” He looked at the paper. He unfolded it and shook out the wrinkles so it would stand tall as he read it. “And Dana?”

“Yeah, you’ll need to let her go after this one I’m afraid.”

“What now?”

“She said she, and I quote, wouldn’t be a part of this money-driven team if we were going to stand for this faggot.”

“Well, she won’t have to I guess,” Ben said as he stood up. “Meet you in the conference room in five minutes.”

Ben read the article, and then moved on the meeting in the conference room.

All five other members of his team were there: Ken Hughes, the in-house private investigator, Liz Webster and Kristen Growe, the two attorneys Ben had hired with the firm, and Tracey Daughtry and Deb Matics, his two paralegals.

Ben walked into the room. “Thank you all for coming, particularly under these circumstances.”

No one said a word. Ben sat down, took his reading glasses off, placed his hand on his forehead, and propped himself up on his elbow. “Everyone knows what has happened here,” Ben started. “And I want to thank you for still being here. We have two team members that you likely won’t see again.”

“Where are they?” Kristen asked.

“Not coming back I’m afraid,” Ben replied. “Look, I appreciate all of you being here. You don’t have to be, I get that.” He sighed, and leaned back in his chair, now resting his arms on the rests. “We have got work to do.”

“Are we intending to enter a not-guilty plea?” Liz asked.

“Yes, unless something has drastically changed since last night when I met with Dwight, we will enter a not-guilty plea.”

“Did he do it, Ben? Do you think he did it?” Ken asked.

“No, I do not believe he did it,” Ben said.

“You know I’m good friends with Dale?” Ken asked. “We play golf together from time to time.”

“Look, I get it if you don’t want to do this, Ken. I know this is hitting home pretty hard.”

“Yeah, it is,” Ken said. “But listen here, I have worked with you for how long now?”

Ben grinned. “A long time. We’ve had some good years.”

“Exactly. If you tell me you think the man is not guilty, I believe you, and that’s where I’ll start.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Ken. I do appreciate it.”

“But let me tell you this,” he quickly spoke again, “I want justice for Dale and his family. And I’m going to make damn sure I do my part to sort through the facts.”

“We are going to need you in order for us to do that,” Ben said. “I need all of you. But that’s why we are here, and that’s what we need to talk about.”

Everyone was paying close attention to what Ben had to say. “I need all of you to realize that this is going to alter your life, potentially forever. You saw the paper this morning, right? Kelly and Dana aren’t here because they are ashamed to be associated with this. And there are a large number of people in town, I’m sure, that won’t look favorably at any of us for defending Dwight. Your peers, friends, family… they will associate you with this case. This case is going to get attention, and you’ll be right in the middle of it. And so will I. But I need you to know all that before we go into this, because I don’t need anyone backing out mid-stream. I know we haven’t tried cases like this before. The risk of public criticism has never been so great, and I expect it to be personal, too. Freeden will be at the heart of a case that is in the spotlight, and you’re going to be smack dab in the middle of it.”

He leaned forward, arms rested on the table. “So, if you’re going to back out, or you don’t want to be a part of this, I need to know today. You don’t have to tell me in this meeting, but I need to know today. Because when we enter a not-guilty plea at the arraignment, it’s going to get even crazier. Can I count on all of you to be on board?”

The team members looked around, moving their eyes from person to person to see what the others would say. Finally, Deb spoke up.

“Ben, I have always trusted you. And yes, I know it is going to tear this town apart. But if you believe the man is innocent, then I do, too. And no matter what, it isn’t right to send that man to jail, not if he didn’t do it.”

“Ben, I’m with you,” Tracey said. “I owe you. You saved my family during our darkest financial strife. Let us stay in your rental house for two years rent free when we didn’t have the money.” She stopped and looked around at the others. “You all know this happened. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. So yeah, I’m here with you. Until the end. You’ve always been good to me, and I trust you.”

“Thank you guys,” Ben replied. “Thank you… this means a lot.”

“Let me ask this, Ben,” Kristen said. “I’m grateful for the opportunity you gave me, too, but let’s be reasonable here, okay? You are very good friends with Dwight and we all know that. How can we be so sure that your friendship isn’t clouding your judgement?”

He leaned back again. “Well, that’s a good question, Kristen. Truth be told, I have no proof that the man is innocent. But I’ve been doing this a while,” he paused, “and I know a guilty man when I see him. We have to research, fact-check, and trust me, we will, and if what we find is damning evidence against Dwight then we need to advise him to plead guilty, or change his plea if by that point we have already entered a not-guilty plea. But like I said, I know a guilty man when I see him. And the man I saw last night at the jail,” he paused again, shaking his head, “that man did not look guilty.”

“That’s a very emotional remark,” Kristen said. “I’d be careful of your emotions getting in the way.”

“I know, and frankly, you’re right,” he replied. “But sometimes, going with your gut is best.”

“I’m trusting you,” Kristen said, still appearing to be skeptical, “you know I am. But I’m not sure I agree that going with your gut is best in our profession.”

“Just promise me this, Kristen,” he said. “Give him the benefit of the doubt until we know otherwise. I’m not sold on anything yet, either, I’m just telling you what I know and how I feel.”

“Fair enough,” Kristen said. “You know I’ll do everything I can regardless.

“I understand if you need time to think about whether or not you want to continue to be a part of this team moving forward,” Ben said. “Please let me know by the end of today.”

“I’m in,” Ken said.

“Me too,” Liz replied.

“Me as well,” Deb followed.

“And me,” said Tracey.

“You know I’m in,” Kristen added in her usual monotone manner.

Ben looked at Brenda. “And you?”

“Sure, what the hell. They don’t like me around here anyway.”

He smirked. “Okay, well we have work to do. I plan to touch base with Dwight today, and meet him tomorrow to get the entire story. Brenda, I need you, Deb, and Tracey to man the office and begin gathering the police report and documents that are already available. Get in touch with the district attorney’s office and get what they already have in place, too. We’re working around the clock until this is done.”

“Are we safe?” Liz asked abruptly.

The place fell silent again, and all eyes turned to Ben. After a long pause, Ben said, “I think we are, but do be aware that this case will trigger emotions of all kind, and that these are tense times.”

“Reason I ask,” she said as she looked down at her Samsung phone, “is that my husband just texted me and told me to turn on the news.”

Brenda got out of her chair to turn on the television that was mounted on the wall at the far side of the conference room. “What channel?”

“Texting him now.” She waited for seconds, and already had a reply. “He said…WYTG twenty-five Freeden News.”

She switched it to WYTG. Most of the team was surprised it had hit television news already, but Ben wasn’t. He had seen the reporters at the jail the previous night. Now they were broadcasting live from in front of city hall in downtown Freeden.

“Dwight Kerry stands accused of first-degree murder and statutory rape of seventeen-year-old Braxton Jones, a local boy who was a long-time student of Kerry’s in his music and choir classes. There is already a considerable amount of anger in the community. We spoke to several community members earlier today at the local landmark eatery, 3rd Street Café.”

The picture cut to an earlier recording. “Death row at a minimum,” said a local interviewee.

Another standing beside her added, “He deserves to die, sooner than later.”

The live feed returned and the reporter continued, “Now the arraignment is coming up this week and it remains to be seen whether or not Kerry will plead guilty. Local firm Bailey and Associates is leading the defense, and the community is not taking too kindly to one if its own, Ben Bailey, defending Kerry for such a heinous crime.”

“If ole’ Ben Bailey and his team can feel good about it, then that’s on them,” another interviewee said. “But they will answer for it, I assure you of that.”

The team looked around at each other.

“Answer for it?” Liz asked.

“Yeah, I heard that,” Ben replied. Then he stood up, placed his hands on the table, leaned against it, and looked up at the team. “Be safe folks. When you come here, you lock the door. When you go home, you lock the door. Take all necessary precautions. Please.”

“Can we pray? As a team?” Deb asked.

Ben didn’t feel like praying. Thinking of God made him think of one person: Dr. Dan Henson, a man he knew would be a major problem moving forward. He knew Dr. Henson would lead the movement; if people got out to protest against Dwight and his defense, it would be because Dr. Henson rallied the troops. In the last year, when Ben thought of God, he thought of Dr. Henson, and he didn’t like how awful it made him feel.

Sympathetic, though only halfway willing, Ben replied, “Sure, Deb. Let’s pray.”

They all bowed their heads. Ben looked around the room at his staff, all of whom seemed to be taking the prayer a lot more serious than he. He bowed his head, and silently prayed for about thirty seconds.

Lord, I know you’re good. I know deep down you’re not Dan Henson. But it’s so hard for me to turn your way when all I see is him. Grant me freedom from this, oh Lord. Please. I need you to show me you are different than him and the people here.

Suddenly, all Ben could think of was the second piece from Requiem, entitled "Kyrie." After praying to himself, he felt compelled to share the translation aloud.

“Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.”