〃Yes； I certainly do。〃
〃Murder； wasn't it？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃And you testified as an expert in the field of psychiatry and told the jury that Mr。 Wooddall was not insane？〃
〃I did。〃
〃Do you recall how many psychiatrists testified on his behalf and told the jury the poor man was legally insane？〃
〃I believe there were five； Mr。 Brigance。〃
〃That's correct； Doctor。 Five against one。 Do you recall what the jury did？〃
The anger and frustration was building in the witness
stand。 The wise old grandfather/professor with all the right answers was being rattled。 〃Yes； I recall。 He was found not guilty by reason of insanity。〃
〃How do you explain that； Dr。 Rodeheaver？ Five against one； and the jury finds against you？〃
〃You just can't trust juries；〃 he blurted； then caught himself。 He fidgeted and grinned awkwardly at the jurors。
Jake stared at him with a wicked smile； then looked at the jury in disbelief。 He folded his arms and allowed the last words to sink in。 He waited； staring and grinning at the witness。
〃You may proceed； Mr。 Brigance；〃 Noose finally said。
Moving slowly and with great animation； Jake gathered his files and notes while staring at Rodeheaver。 〃I think we've heard enough from this witness； Your Honor。〃
〃Any redirect； Mr。 Buckley？〃
〃No； sir。 The State rests。〃
Noose addressed the jury。 〃Ladies and gentlemen； this trial is almost over。 There will be no more witnesses。 I will now meet with the attorneys to cover some technical areas； then they will be allowed to make their final arguments to you。 That will begin at two o'clock and take a couple of hours。 You will finally get the case around four； and I will allow you to deliberate until six。 If you do not reach a verdict today； you will be taken back to your rooms until tomorrow。 It is now almost eleven； and we'll recess until two。 I need to see the attorneys in chambers。〃
Carl Lee leaned over and spoke to his lawyer for the first time since Saturday's adjournment。 〃You tore him up pretty good； Jake。〃
〃Wait till you hear the closing argument。〃
Jake avoided Harry Rex； and drove to Karaway。 His childhood home was an old country house in downtown； surrounded by ancient oaks and maples and elms that kept it cool in spite of the summer heat。 In the back； past the trees； was a long open field which ran for an eighth of a mile and disappeared over a small hill。 A chickenwire backstop stood over the weeds in one corner。 Here； Jake had taken his first steps； rode his first bike； thrown his first football and base…
ball。 Under an oak beside the field； he had buried three dogs； a raccoon； a rabbit； and some ducks。 A tire from a '54 Buick swung not far from the small cemetery。
The house had been locked and deserted for two months。 A neighborhood kid cut the grass and tended the lawn。 Jake checked the house once a week。 His parents were somewhere in Canada in a camper…the summer ritual。 He wished he were with them。
He unlocked the door and walked upstairs to his room。 It would never change。 The walls were covered with team pictures； trophies； baseball caps； posters of Pete Rose； Archie Manning； and Hank Aaron。 A row of baseball gloves hung above the closet door。 A cap and gown picture sat on the dresser。 His mother still cleaned it weekly。 She once told him she often went to his room and expected to find him doing homework or sorting baseball cards。 She would flip through his scrapbooks； and get all teary eyed。
He thought of Hanna's room； with the stuffed animals and Mother Goose wallpaper。 A thick knot formed in his throat。
He looked out the window； past the trees； and saw himself swinging in the tire near the three white crosses where he buried his dogs。 He remembered each funeral； and his father's promises to get another dog。 He thought of Hanna and her dog； and his eyes watered。
The bed was much smaller now。 He removed his shoes and lay down。 A football helmet hung from the ceiling。 Eighth grade； Karaway Mustangs。 He scored seven touchdowns in five games。 It was all on film downstairs under the bookshelves。 The butterflies floated wildly through his stomach。
He carefully placed his notes…his notes； not Lucien's… on the dresser。 He studied himself in the mirror。
He addressed the jury。 He began by facing his biggest problem； Dr。 W。T。 Bass。 He apologized。 A lawyer walks into a courtroom； faces a strange jury； and has nothing to offer but his credibility。 And if he does anything to hurt his credibility； he has hurt his cause； his client。 He asked them tb believe that he would never put a convicted felon on the stand as an
expert witness in any trial。 He did not know of the conviction； he raised his hand and swore to this。 The world is full of psychiatrists； and he could easily have found another if he had known Bass had a problem； but he simply did not know。 And he was sorry。
But what about Bass's testimony。 Thirty years ago he had sex with a girl under eighteen in Texas。 Does that mean he is lying now in this trial？ Does that mean you cannot trust his professional opinion？ Please be fair to Bass the psychiatrist； forget Bass the person。 Please be fair to his patient； Carl Lee Hailey。 He knew nothing of the doctor's past。
There was something about Bass they might like to know。 Something that was not mentioned by Mr。 Buckley when he was ripping the doctor to pieces。 The girl he had sex with was seventeen。 She later became his wife； bore him a son； and was pregnant when she and the boy were killed in a train…
〃Objection！〃 Buckley shouted。 〃Objection； Your Honor。 That evidence is not in the record！〃
〃Sustained。 Mr。 Brigance； you are not to refer to facts not in evidence。 The jury will disregard the last statements by Mr。 Brigance。〃
Jake ignored Noose and Buckley and stared painfully at the jury。
When the shouting died； he continued。 What about Rodeheaver？ He wondered if the State's doctor had ever engaged in sex with a girl under eighteen。 Seemed silly to think about such things； didn't it？ Bass and Rodeheaver in their younger days…it seemed so unimportant now in this courtroom almost thirty years later。
The State's doctor is a man with an obvious bias。 A highly trained specialist who treats thousands for all sorts of mental illnesses； yet when crimes are involved he cannot recognize insanity。 His testimony should be carefully weighed。
They watched him； listened to every word。 He was not a courtroom preacher； like his opponent。 He was quiet； sincere。 He looked tired； almost hurt。
Lucien was sober； and he sat with folded arms and watched the jurors； all except Sisco。 It was not his closing； but it was good。 It was ing from the heart。
Jake apologized for his inexperience。 He had not been in many trials； not nearly as many as Mr。 Buckley。 And if he seemed a little green； or if he made mistakes； please don't hold it against Carl Lee。 It wasn't his fault。 He was just a rookie trying his best against a seasoned adversary who tried murder cases every month。 He made a mistake with Bass； and he made other mistakes； and he asked the jury to forgive him。
He had a daughter； the only one he would ever have。 She was four； almost five； and his world revolved around her。 She was special； she was a little girl； and it was up to him to protect her。 There was a bond there； something he could not explain。 He talked about little girls。
Carl Lee had a daughter。 Her name was Tonya。 He pointed to her on the front row next to her mother and brothers。 She's a beautiful little girl； ten years old。 And she can never have children。 She can never have a daughter because…〃
〃Objection；〃 Buckley said without shouting。
〃Sustained；〃 Noose said。
Jake ignored the motion。 He talked about rape for a while； and explained how rape is much worse than murder。 With murder； the victim is gone； and not forced to deal with what happened to her。 The family must deal with it； but not the victim。 But rape is much worse。 The victim has a lifetime of coping； of trying to understand； of asking questions； and； the worst part； of knowing the rapist is still alive and may someday escape or be released。 Every hour of every day； the victim thinks of the rape and asks herself a thousand questions。 She relives it； step by step； minute