Black Monday, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 7

  Chapter 43

  JIMMY'S TRIAL

   

  When I looked out the window on Monday morning, April 5, 1988, it was foggy and a fine mist was falling. The thermometer was just a tad above fifty degrees and the air was still. It was perfect day for a murder trial. Bart had been extra nice all week and informed me he'd made breakfast. My stomach was in no condition to digest food, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I sat down and dug in. After a few bites I decided I was hungry after all and ate like it was my last meal.

  Bart had appeared before the Walrus several times, so he briefed on what to expect from him. He also filled me in on the latest scuttlebutt at the DA's office. Wilkerson was very confident he'd get a conviction. So confident, in fact, that he had agreed to give the exclusive inside story of Jimmy Bennett's conviction to a reporter for Time Magazine. The magazine deal was just what I needed to get emotionally prepared for trial. I was ready to shove Wilkerson's magazine deal down his throat. As I was about to give Bart a kiss goodbye the telephone rang. It was Betty.

  "He's gone! Jimmy's gone. When I woke up, he wasn't in bed. His truck is gone. Oh, my God. What's going to happen?"

  "Okay, calm down. When did you see him last?"

  "About ten last night. I was tired and went to bed. He was watching the news."

  "Did he go to bed at all?"

  "No, his side of the bed is still made. Oh, God. I should have waited for him to go to bed. Damn it!"

  "It's not your fault. He's a grown man. Do you have any idea where he went?"

  "No. His truck's gone. He could be half way to Biloxi by now."

  "Why do you say Biloxi?"

  "He read an article about those casino cruise ships out of Biloxi. He loves to gamble. He was talking about it last night. He said what if they had his trial and he didn't come? I just thought he was kidding, but I should have realized he'd found some coke. He must have had a stash hidden somewhere."

  "Jesus Christ. This is all I need."

  "I'm sorry. Should I go after him?"

  "No. It's too late. When he doesn't show up for trial, they'll revoke his bond and issue an arrest warrant. We couldn't get him back in time. Now he's going to have to spend some time in jail."

  "Oh, God. You can't let that happen."

  "I'm sorry. It's out of my hands."

  I called Stan and told him the bad news. He said he'd have Paul Thayer get someone in Biloxi to find him and drive him back to Dallas. If Jimmy walked in to court of his own volition, even if he were a day late, it would be better than if he were dragged in kicking and screaming by the police. I hung up the phone feeling like I'd just been hit by a sledge hammer. My head was spinning. I could just see the judge yelling and screaming at me and Wilkerson smiling and laughing at this turn of events.

  As I was leaving the house it began to rain hard and I could hear thunder close by. The road between my condo and Preston road began to flood as it often did in heavy rain. I could hardly see the road ahead, so I made my way slowly through the high water. A sudden gust of wind shook my car and sent a road sign flying across the road. I slammed on the brakes to avoid it. Luckily, by the time I made it to the Dallas North Tollway the storm had moved on to the East.

  Twenty minutes later I exited on Commerce Street and headed east toward Dealey Plaza. As I came up the hill, I could see the courthouse was encircled with press vehicles and media vans. A mob of reporters was stationed outside the front door to the courthouse. Luckily I was able to park underground and enter the courthouse from the ground floor. I thought I had bypassed most of the reporters but when the elevator door opened on the 7th floor, lights and cameras were flashing.

  "Miss Waters. How do you feel about your client's chances?"

  I shook my head and replied, "No comment."

  There was no way I was talking to the press in the mood I was in. I wasn't sure I could even talk coherently knowing what was about to happen to me. As I made my way through the spectators and reporters, my knees became weak and I felt dizzy. I was about to collapse when I felt a strong arm pull me up.

  "Come on, Paula," Stan said. "Don't give out on me before the trial even begins."

  "What difference does it make? We don't even have a client," I whispered.

  Stan brought me into the courtroom and made me sit right down at the defense table. He brought me some water. I drank a little and took a deep breath. "I don't know what happened. I just suddenly felt faint. This isn't like me."

  "It's okay. You'll be all right. Stress can do a number on anybody. You've had enough this morning to last a lifetime."

  "What's going to happen, Stan?"

  "We'll just have to try the case without Jimmy. He wasn't going to testify anyway."

  "I know. But it will look so bad."

  "Hey. We can't worry about that. All we can do is put on the best defense we can under the circumstances."

  "What about a continuance?"

  "Forget it. Let's just try the case and get it over with."

  "You sound like you think he's guilty," I said.

  "Well, when someone runs it's usually for a reason."

  Stan may have been right, but I still believed Jimmy was innocent. Why he ran, I didn't know but I suspected it was out of fear and helplessness rather than guilt.

  "Your color is coming back," Stan said.

  "I'm fine. Don't worry."

  The bailiff stood up and said, "All rise! The 355th Judicial District Court for the County of Dallas is now in session, the Honorable Ernest P. Wingate presiding."

  Everyone stood up and the judge entered the courtroom. He went to the bench, took his seat, and nodded at the bailiff.

  The bailiff said, "You may be seated."

  The judge scanned the courtroom and then looked at the empty chair where Jimmy was supposed to be seated. "Where is the defendant?" he scowled.

  I got up and replied, "We're not sure, Your Honor. His wife hasn't seen him since 10:00 p.m. last night."

  "Have you talked to him in the last 24 hours?"

  "Yes, Your Honor. I talked to him around noon yesterday. He was supposed to meet me here in the courtroom at 8:30 a.m."

  "Do you think he is fleeing the jurisdiction of this court?"

  "I don't know, Your Honor. I hope not."

  "Well, I'm going to delay the start of this case until 1:00 p.m. to give you time to find your client. If he's not here by then I'm going to revoke his bond and issue a warrant for his arrest. Either way jury selection will begin at 1:00 p.m."

  "Yes, Your Honor," I said.

  When the judge had gone the courtroom erupted in conversation. I looked at Wilkerson and he and his assistant were laughing. I felt Stan take my arm again.

  "Come on. Let's get the hell out of here."

  I didn't argue. Before I knew it, Stan was leading me out through the back corridor, down several flights of stairs, and out another door that led into the District Clerks' office. Somehow, we had avoided the crowd of reporters who must have been having a feeding frenzy by this time. We escaped into the parking garage and went directly to my car. Stan said he'd see me back at the office. As I was driving out of the parking garage, the thought occurred to me that maybe I should leave town too.