"We have one final witness, Your Honor," Buckley said with great finality at 4:00 P.M. "Officer DeWayne Looney."
Looney limped with a cane into the courtroom and to the witness stand. He removed his gun and handed it to Mr. Pate.
Buckley watched him proudly. "Would you state your name, please, sir?"
"DeWayne Looney."
"And your address?"
"Fourteen sixty-eight Bennington Street, Clanton, Mississippi."
"How old are you?"
"Thirty-nine."
"Where are you employed?"
"Ford County Sheriff's Department."
"And what do you do there?"
"I'm a dispatcher."
"Where did you work on Monday, May 20?"
"I was a deputy."
"Were you on duty?"
"Yes. I was assigned to transport two subjects from the jail to court and back."
"Who were those two subjects?"
"Billy Ray Cobb and Pete Willard."
"What time did you leave court with them?"
"Around one-thirty, I guess."
"Who was on duty with you?"
"Marshall Prather. He and I were in charge of the two subjects. There were some other deputies in the courtroom helpin' us, and we had two or three men outside waitin' on us. But me and Marshall were in charge."
"What happened when the hearing was over?"
"We immediately handcuffed Cobb and Willard and got them outta here. We took them to that little room over there and waited a second or two, and Prather walked on down the stairs."
"Then what happened?"
"We started down the back stairs. Cobb first, then Willard, then me. Like I said, Prather had already gone on down. He was out the door."
"Yes, sir. Then what happened?"
"When Cobb was near 'bout to the foot of the stairs, the shootin' started. I was on the landing, fixin' to go on down. I didn't see anybody at first for a second, then I seen Mr. Hailey with the machine gun firin' away. Cobb was blown backward into Willard, and they both screamed and fell in a heap, tryin' to get back up where I was."
"Yes, sir. Describe what you saw."
"You could hear the bullets bouncin' off the walls and hittin' everywhere. It was the loudest gun I ever heard and seemed like he kept shootin' forever. The boys just twisted and thrashed about, screamin' and squealin'. They were handcuffed, you know."
"Yes, sir. What happened to you?"
"Like I said, I never made it past the landing. I think
one of the bullets ricocheted off the wall and caught me in the leg. I was tryin' to get back up the steps when I felt my leg burn."
"And what happened to your leg?"
"They cut it off," Looney answered matter-of-factly, as if an amputation happened monthly. "Just below the knee."
"Did you get a good look at the man with the gun?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you identify him for the jury?"
"Yes, sir. It's Mr. Hailey, the man sittin' over there."
That answer would have been a logical place to end Looney's testimony. He was brief, to the point, sympathetic and positive of the identification. The jury had listened to every word so far. But Buckley and Musgrove retrieved the large diagrams of the courthouse and arranged them before the jury so that Looney could limp around for a while. Under Buckley's direction, he retraced everybody's exact movements just before the killings.
Jake rubbed his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. Noose cleaned and recleaned his glasses. The jurors fidgeted.
"Any cross-examination, Mr. Brigance?" Noose asked at last.
"Just a few questions," Jake said as Musgrove cleared the debris from the courtroom.
"Officer Looney, who was Carl Lee looking at when he was shooting?"
"Them boys, as far as I could tell."
"Did he ever look at you?"
"Well, now, I didn't spend a lotta time tryin' to make eye contact with him. In fact, I was movin' in the other direction."
"So he didn't aim at you?"
"Oh, no, sir. He just aimed at those boys. Hit them too."
"What did he do when he was shooting?"
"He just screamed and laughed like he was crazy. It was the weirdest thing I ever heard, like he was some kinda madman or something. And you know, what I'll always remember is that with all the noise, the gun firin', the bullets
whistlin', the boys screamin' as they got hit, over all the noise I could hear him laughin' that crazy laugh."
The answer was so perfect Jake had to fight off a smile. He and Looney had worked on it a hundred times, and it was a thing of beauty. Every word was perfect. Jake busily flipped through his legal pad and glanced at the jurors. They all stared at Looney, enthralled by his answer. Jake scribbled something, anything, nothing, just to kill a few more seconds before the most important questions of the trial.
"Now, Deputy Looney, Carl Lee Hailey shot you in the leg."
"Yes, sir, he did."
"Do you think it was intentional?"
"Oh, no, sir. It was an accident."
"Do you want to see him punished for shooting you?" • "No, sir. I have no ill will toward the man. He did what I would've done."
Buckley dropped his pen and slumped in his chair. He looked sadly at his star witness.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean I don't blame him for what he did. Those boys raped his little girl. I gotta little girl. Somebody rapes her and he's a dead dog. I'll blow him away, just like Carl Lee did. We oughtta give him a trophy."
"Do you want the jury to convict Carl Lee?"
Buckley jumped and roared, "Objection! Objection! Improper question!"
"No!" Looney yelled. "I don't want him convicted. He's a hero. He-"
"Don't answer, Mr. Looney!" Noose said loudly. "Don't answer!"
"Objection! Objection!" Buckley continued, on his tiptoes.
"He's a hero! Turn him loose!" Looney yelled at Buck-ley.
"Order! Order!" Noose banged his gavel.
Buckley was silent. Looney was silent. Jake walked to his chair and said, "I'll withdraw the question."
"Please disregard," Noose instructed the jury.
Looney smiled at the jury and limped from the courtroom.
"Call your next witness," Noose said, removing nis glasses.
Buckley rose slowly and with a great effort at drama, said, "Your Honor, the State rests."
"Good," Noose replied, looking at Jake. "I assume you have a motion or two, Mr. Brigance."
"Yes, Your Honor."
"Very well, we'll take those up in chambers."
Noose excused his jury with the same parting instructions and adjourned until nine Friday.
Jake awoke in the darkness with a slight hangover, a headache due to fatigue and Coors, and the distant but unmistakable sound of his doorbell ringing continually as if held firmly in place by a large and determined thumb. He opened the front door in his nightshirt and tried to focus on the two figures standing on the porch. Ozzie and Nesbit, it was finally determined.
"Can I help you?" he asked as he opened the door. They followed him into the den.
"They're gonna kill you today," Ozzie said.
Jake sat on the couch and massaged his temples. "Maybe they'll succeed."
"Jake, this is serious. They plan to kill you."
"Who?"