Only the Truth (11 page)

After a bit, I turned to Mr. Green.

"Have you found out anything about John Doe yet?"

Mr. Green shook his head. "Not yet, but don't worry. We have time
before next month to get something on him and even if we don't, that one arrest
record for rape ought to help sway the jury. And, I found a couple of witnesses
we can pull in who spent time with him in jail. They never knew his name to be
anything but John Doe because he never told them otherwise and he never told
them anything about himself. On the other hand, they will testify that he was
always very angry, prone to violence if you got in his way, and he was
suspected of
shanking
his cellmate while they were in
the exercise yard."

I didn't know what
shanking
meant but it sounded
like raping so I thought that would be good in court.

I nodded. "Okay."

Mr. Green patted my hand. "We have a good defense now. Don't worry
about it." I looked up at him, straight in the eyes, and it seemed like he
was telling the truth, not that I was too good a judge of that.

"How's Charlene?" I hadn't seen her for a few days because I had
sprained my ankle stepping off the porch in a wrong way and it was too hard to
walk all the way to town on it with it hurting so
bad
.
My truck was still just sitting there because I spent too much time with
Charlene, now that she was being sweet to me again, and I had not been working
enough to pay for the new battery it still needed.

"She's good, Billy Ray, she's good. She seems much calmer now. I see
she is starting to show a bit now, too."

I felt proud. I had made a baby and when I put my hand on Charlene's stomach
I could feel it swelling up under my hand. I never was much good at making
anything and it was a nice feeling knowing I had finally done something.

"Tell her I'll be down in a couple of days. My foot is almost
better."

Mr. Green got up to go.

"All right.
I've got some work to do."

I reached out and shook his hand.

"Thanks for New Big Dog. That was real nice of you."

Mr. Green nodded.

"I'll tell Charlene to expect you soon. Take care."

New Big Dog ran up beside me and we watched Mr. Green walk back down the
path to his car. It would be the last time I saw him.

********************

I didn't make it to the jail until Friday. I tried twice, once on Wednesday
and once on Thursday, but my ankle still hurt me too much. By Friday, I thought
I could make it and I found myself a big stick to help take the weight off of
my foot if the going got too rough.

New Big Dog came with me. I tried to tell him to stay but he wouldn't take
no for an answer and trotted along behind me. Maybe they would let me bring him
into the jail so Charlene could see him. She will like him, I can tell. He
might cheer her up and keep her from being mad at me for not showing up for
almost a week.

It took me near two hours to reach the edge of town. I never walked so slow
in my life and now that I was walking on pavement, my foot was really starting
to hurt me. I limped along, putting more of my weight on the stick, yelling at
New Big Dog to come back every time he raced off to check out a new sight.

I only passed a few people that afternoon as I neared the jail. I tried to
say hello to each of them but they seemed not to hear me. Then when I came into
the waiting area of the jail, a guard rushed toward me and immediately told me
New Big Dog couldn't come in. He wasn't very nice about it. I didn't bring any
leash with me and I hated to just leave him in the street. I told him to sit
and stay and he slumped down against the building and looked at me with
"don't leave me here" eyes. I gave him a pat but I didn't have a
choice. "Just stay. I'll be back in a bit." I left my walking stick
next to him so he'd know I'd return.

I went on inside but I didn't get more than a few feet when the Sheriff
grabbed me by the arm and shoved me into a small office they have up front for
talking to people who probably don't want to talk to them at the moment, but
just want to see who they come to see. He pushed the chair away from the metal
table and shoved me into it

Sheriff Hathaway didn't look any too pleasant.

"What are you doing here, Billy Ray?" He practically snarled at
me, his bushy eyebrows coming close together like they were defending his eyes.

I shook my head. I thought a policeman ought to be able to figure this one
out. Maybe he was messing with me. The Sheriff's stare made me nervous.

"I'm here to see Charlene, like always," I stuttered. "I know
I haven't been here for a week but my foot got messed up." Maybe she told
the Sheriff she didn't want to see me. Maybe she was mad at me for not finding
a way down the hill. I kind of wondered why Mr. Green hadn't offered me a ride
but I guess he didn't want to have to make the round trip twice to get me back
home once I was finished visiting Charlene.

"Is that right?"

Something seemed really wrong.

I shifted from one side of my chair to the other.

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. "You want to see that woman, that
murderer, that
poor excuse for a human being?"

The small room was hot. The words of the sheriff burned into me. I wanted to
get out of there, but he had shut the door and he was a cop so I just sat
there, feeling his hatred for me. I didn't know why he suddenly hated me so
much, so much more than the day he arrested me for killing the old man.

I attempted a diversion. "Is Mr. Green here today?"

The sheriff sniggered.
"Yeah, right.
At least
he knows when to call it quits."

I felt a cold sweat break out on my face and neck.

"Quit?" I could hardly get the word out.

Sheriff Hathaway slammed both fists down on the table. "Quit! Yeah, you
dumb ass, quit, like in sometimes even a defense attorney doesn't want to
defend his client."

"He's gone?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Gone? Why?
When?

"What? Why didn't he tell me?"

The Sheriff stood up. "I don't know. Maybe he just doesn't like being
lied to, Billy Ray. At least not by people he is trying to help."

He grabbed the door knob and, as if he had an afterthought, turned toward
me. "By the way, we know who Charlene is, so you can stop pretending you
don't."

The Sheriff flung open the door and strode out. The door knob clanged
against the metal pole supporting the roof and came back and shut me in the
room.

********************

I was stifling to death in that 12-foot-square box. I felt weighed down to
the chair, afraid to get up, terrified to open the door because I knew there
was an explanation on the other side I didn't want to know. I wanted to run
out, grab New Big Dog and go home, pretend I never met Charlene.

I must have sat there for a long time, trying to decide which direction to
walk when I came out of the room. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the
light shifting on the wall and the room growing dimmer. I wondered how cold it
would be if I had to walk home after dark, if visiting hours were over, if New
Big Dog had given up on me and wandered off. I worried I might never see him
again.

I became aware that someone had opened the door and was standing there
looking at me. A big man, dark-skinned, the hair that he still had on his head
trimmed close, blue trousers, white shirt overflowing the belt, a layer of body
fat behind it.
Neat tie.

The man sidled into the room and shut the door behind him. He plopped into
the chair the sheriff had left empty, dropped his briefcase onto the table and
offered his hand.

"Joe Stanley, public defender," he stated. "I'm taking over
for Mr. Green."

The man looked worn, like he'd done this work for far too long and he should
have retired ten years ago.

"You Charlene's lawyer now?" I asked suspiciously.

"Yeah."
He breathed heavily.

"And?"

"And," he shrugged, "I will go to court, say a bunch of
meaningless stuff, and the jury will come back with a conviction. That's the
life of a public defender."

I stared at him.

He opened his mouth as though he were about to continue. Then he yawned.

"What about Charlene's defense?" I asked.

"You got one for me?" he shot back.

"Mr. Green said Charlene was raped by John Doe. He scared her."

Mr. Stanley drummed his fingers on the table, touching each dent he could
find in a row.

He let his breath out slowly and looked at me. He seemed to be sizing me up.
I hadn't had many people do that since I never spent much time with any until I
ended up down at the court but I saw Mr. Green doing it to others. Then he
would tell me something bad about them.

Mr. Stanley leaned back a bit in his chair, his gaze still steady on me.
Then he asked me a question.

"Are you just stupid or are you in on this whole act?"

I didn't understand what he meant.

"What?"

"Are you just stupid or did you help Kristen kill the old man?"

"Kristen?" I couldn't understand this new lawyer. I wished Mr.
Green hadn't run out on Charlene.

He groaned. "Kristen, Charlene, Kristen.
Whatever you
want to call her."

My eyes blurred. I couldn't breathe through my nose. I felt something
dripping out of my nose and water running down my cheek.

Mr. Stanley's big hand reached out and grabbed my left shoulder.

"Don't you know why Mr. Green quit?"

I shook my head and rubbed my hand across my nose and then brought it under
the table to my pants' leg.

The lawyer slumped back in his chair.
"For Christ's
sake,
Godallmighty
.
They told me you lived way
up on some hill with this girl for two years and said you never even knew her
name. I thought they were fooling me." He leaned forward, opened the
buckle on the briefcase in front of him and pulled out a newspaper.

He squinted at me. "You telling me you don't know why Mr. Green left
and you haven't seen the newspaper either?"

I shook my head again.

"She never told you her name was Kristen? She never told you what
happened over in Tennessee?"

My head felt like a big stone.

He shoved the paper in front of me. I looked down and I saw a picture of
Charlene's face and some man's face and big writing that looked black and
angry.

"Well? Well?" Mr. Stanley was watching my face.

I shook my head again.

He snorted. "You got nothing to say?" He had an incredulous look
on his face.

"I can't read it," I said. "I don't read."

Mr. Stanley let out a slow whistle, reached forward and put his big palm
flat down on the paper. He slowly turned it all the way around toward himself.

He started reading slowly, like I couldn't understand spoken words either.

"Family murdered."

He paused.

"Family found murdered in their beds. Early this morning just after
midnight, neighbors reported seeing a fire on the Stoddard property at the end
of Collins Road where it meets County Road C. When firefighters arrived, the
main house and a small shed adjacent to the driveway were fully ablaze. It took
hours for the firemen to put out the fire. Five bodies were located in two
bedrooms - the master bedroom and a bedroom at the end of the hall. A male and
a female were found deceased in the king-size bed and three small children were
found also deceased in the smaller room. Police Chief Morris Williams told
reporters that the bodies were in such bad condition, identifying them would be
difficult but neighbors confirmed Thomas and Mary Stoddard were at home that
night and were taking care of their three grandchildren for their daughter,
Kristen, who was out for the evening."

Mr. Stanley continued without looking up.

"Chief Williams has issued a warrant for the arrest of 17-year-old
Kristen Stoddard," Mr. Stanley stopped and shook his head. "Your
Kristen must have been quite an out-of-control teenager….pregnant at, what, age
thirteen? Talk about the bad seed." He rolled his eyes. "Anyway,
yeah, a warrant for 17-year-old Kristen Stoddard, a white female, and a warrant
for 58-year-old Rubin Covey, a black male. Williams warns that if any citizen
sees these two, they should immediately call law enforcement and do not attempt
to hold them in custody themselves.
Williams
states
they are considered armed and extremely dangerous."

There was a buzzing in my ears that I wished would stop. I wanted Mr.
Stanley to shut up and go away.

I pushed the paper away from me.

"Billy Ray," he was saying from what seemed a long distance away.
"Charlene and her old lover, Mr. Covey, shot her parents, poured gasoline
over them and set them on fire. They locked the children in their
room,
gasoline splashed everywhere, and burned them up as
the four-year-old and three-year-old tried desperately to escape. The baby died
in the crib."

I was
gonna
throw up. I pushed away from the table
and turned to the corner where I had seen a small metal trash bin. I heaved and
heaved until my stomach hurt as bad as my head. Then, I slowly turned back
toward the table. Mr. Stanley had put the newspaper away but now he was shoving
a picture toward me. I didn't know why he needed to show me anything more.

I looked down and saw the face of the black guy that was in the newspaper.
He wasn't smiling.

The lawyer tapped the photo with his index finger.

"Mr. Covey."

I nodded miserably.

Then he turned over the picture and pointed to some old writing on the back.
It was faded and hard to read. But, even I, who couldn't read and could hardly
keep my eyes clear, recognized my own name.