Juror #3(41)

Isaac Keet looked over our heads to the row occupied by the Greene family. With the ghost of a smile, he said, “Well, I’ll be. Sure wouldn’t have recognized him from his mug shot.”

As he turned away, I heard Lee’s mother speak in her warbling soprano. “Who was that black man? The one talking to Suzanne?”

A whispered hiss sounded in response, then I heard her speak again, her voice spiking in shock. “He’s the district attorney?”

Mrs. Greene’s voice carried like an opera singer’s. I fervently wished that her family would shut her up or leave her at home.

Mrs. Greene was interrupted by the judge’s appearance. Judge Ashley was a veteran of the bench. I’d done a little homework to get some background on him: he was over sixty and had served as judge for nearly twenty years. His thin hair was combed straight back over his scalp and looked as if he might have touched it up with Clairol for Men.

Suzanne took the lead in the hearing, introducing copies of articles from the Vicksburg Post and playing recordings of news stories regarding the murder case that had run on the local television channels. Isaac Keet tried to object, claiming she had improperly laid the foundation for one of the videos, but Suzanne won that fight. The judge admitted the evidence.

While she and Keet addressed the court, their voices projected at such a booming volume that I was tempted to cover my ears. The courtroom was large, but it didn’t require this degree of amplification.

But the judge appeared not to notice that they were shouting.

Judge Ashley said, “Does the defense wish to put on further evidence in support of the motion?”

Suzanne smiled. “The defense calls Carol Sheppard to the witness stand.”

An older woman dressed like a Chico’s ad was sworn in. Once on the witness stand, she turned to Suzanne with a smile.

Suzanne asked whether she had heard of the case of State v. Lee Greene.

“Yes, I have.”

“What have you heard?”

“There was a murder at a hotel in Vicksburg. The Magnolia Inn. It’s a sordid case. Lee Greene was charged with the murder of a young woman.”

“Where did you hear this information?”

“It’s been all over the news. I take the Vicksburg Post, and I watch WBTV3 every evening. And I hear stories.”

Suzanne nodded in agreement, her face grim. “Ms. Sheppard, based on the media coverage in this case, do you think that Lee Greene can get a fair trial in Warren County?”

“No. No, I don’t.”

Suzanne raised her chin. Though she stood just a few yards from Judge Ashley, her voice boomed.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

The judge nodded at Keet. “Your witness.”

He launched out of the chair and advanced toward the witness. “Ma’am, are you acquainted with the defendant?”

“No.”

“His family?”

“Yes. His aunt Suzanne. The attorney.”

Keet’s face broke into a grin. “Ah—Ms. Greene, counsel for the defense. How long have y’all been acquainted?”

“Oh, years and years. We met at Ole Miss.”

Keet turned to pin Suzanne with an accusatory look before turning back to the witness. “Begging your pardon, ma’am—then your friendship has been of a long duration?”

“Yes. It has.”

“And y’all are close friends?”

“We are.” Ms. Sheppard beamed at Suzanne from her seat on the witness stand. I wanted to squirm; I knew where Keet was headed. I sneaked a glance at Suzanne, but if she was worried, it wasn’t apparent. She tapped her legal pad with an ink pen, wearing a serene expression.

“As long as you’ve been friends—close friends, I believe you said—I bet you’d do about anything to help Ms. Greene and her family. Isn’t that true?”

Though I’d never handled a change of venue hearing, I knew that Keet had found the crack in the plaster. I ducked my head, awaiting disaster.

But Mrs. Sheppard stiffened and turned a sharp eye at Keet. “I beg your pardon?”

Keet’s voice was like clover honey. “I said: Isn’t it true that you’d like to help Ms. Greene?”

Mrs. Sheppard’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know how to answer that question.”

I was impressed; the woman was smart. She looked like a retired schoolteacher, the kind who could subdue a classroom full of unruly adolescents.

Keet doubled down. “Ms. Sheppard, let me remind you that you are under oath.”

Her face flushed, and she drew herself up with dignity. “Sir, are you questioning my integrity?”

Keet stepped closer to the witness. “I’m asking you to answer the question.”

“All right, I will. Despite my fondness for Suzanne Greene, no sir, I would not commit perjury on her behalf.”

Suzanne smiled like the Cheshire cat. And I relaxed. Yes, Keet was good at his job, but he wouldn’t outfox Suzanne Greene.

Keet persisted. “Then you’ve concluded that Lee Greene is guilty of murder.”

Beside me, I heard Lee’s quick intake of breath. I placed a hand on his arm in a show of solidarity.

“I did not say that.”

Keet stepped away, scratching the back of his head, playing the confused interrogator. “But you said that you’d watched a lot of news coverage, and then opined that the media made it impossible for him to get a fair trial. So you must be convinced that Lee’s guilty.”