Juror #3(63)

Lord, yes, I’d leave a message: a desperate plea, begging him to return my call. I’d just ended the phone call and was sorting through the manila folders I needed for the second day of evidence when I heard the front door open. A man’s voice called: “Hello? Anybody home?”

When I stuck my head into the lobby, I saw another deputy, this one in uniform. It was Potts, the cop who’d cuffed Brockes the day before.

A fist of impatience squeezed inside my chest. We’d hired a secretary to handle the incoming traffic, but she wouldn’t arrive for another thirty minutes.

“We’re not open, Deputy. Sorry, the door should be locked.” I pointed at the glass exit, hoping he’d take the hint and depart. “Our hours are posted on the door.”

He removed his hat and held it with both hands. “I’m looking for my partner, Brockes. Young fellow, early twenties, red hair. Have you see him?”

“Why are you looking for him?”

He advanced toward me. “I see that’s his car out there, right in front of your office.”

He walked past me, toward the door marked Suzanne Greene. I trotted behind. “Deputy? Excuse me? I told you, we’re closed now.”

Without breaking stride, he said, “If that boy is talking to a lawyer, I should be with him.”

I thought, Snoop Dogg. I slipped in front of him and stood guard before Suzanne’s door, with my arms crossed on my chest. There was no way I’d let a cop into a private legal conference concerning a criminal investigation.

“Deputy, you need to leave. Now.”

He grabbed my arm and tugged me toward him. Startled, I broke free.

Potts raised his hands in a placating gesture. With a quaver in his voice, he said, “That boy is my partner; he’s like a brother to me. He’s just a kid, and he needs me. That boy don’t know what to do on his own.” He blinked, hard. “I got to get in there and help him out.”

His speech was touching. But not persuasive. I patted his shoulder before I clenched my hand around his forearm and led him to the front door.

Without a trace of irony, I said to the deputy, “Suzanne Greene is the meanest lawyer in Mississippi. If you interrupt her conference, she’ll snatch you bald.”

He snorted. “I ain’t afraid of no lawyer.”

“Well, I am.” I opened the door and gave him a not-so-gentle shove. “Because if Suzanne thinks I let you go back there, I’ll be bald, too.”

When he stepped outside, I shut the door and locked it.





Chapter 57



THE DA HAD spent nearly an hour questioning the county coroner from Vicksburg. Keet led the coroner, Dr. Walker, through a summary of his medical background before eliciting testimony that described the autopsy and the condition of the deceased. Photographs of the dead girl had circulated through the jury box. Some of the jurors looked queasy.

Others looked somber. One man ran a hand over his face. Lee’s fan club, consisting of two female jurors, no longer gave him the eye.

Isaac Keet stood at a podium near the jury box. He was wrapping up.

“Doctor, based upon your examination of Monae Prince, and your education, training, and experience, do you have an opinion as to the cause of death of the deceased?”

“I do, sir.”

“And what is that opinion?”

“I believe that the deceased died as the result of ingesting an overdose of Rohypnol and alcohol.”

“Thank you, Doctor. No further questions, Your Honor.”

The judge pointed the gavel at me. “Ms. Bozarth?”

I moved quickly, hoping to break Keet’s stride. Unlike the DA, I bypassed the podium and walked straight up to the witness stand, to shatter the notion of distance between us.

“Doctor, thank you for coming today.”

He smiled, “You’re welcome, Ms. Bozarth.”

I made a show of rifling the pages of his report. “Doctor, you testified that the deceased was seventeen at the time of her death. Is that right?”

“I did.”

“Why do you say she was seventeen?”

“Beg pardon, ma’am?”

“Her age. Upon what basis did you conclude that she was seventeen years old?”

He shifted in his seat and crossed his legs. “Well, there was information given to me by the police department.”

“Ah.” I nodded, smiling as if a lightbulb had come on. “So your testimony concerning her age wasn’t a scientific determination, based upon your education and training.”

“No.” He uncrossed his legs. “Well, I could see she was young.”

“Certainly. But as to her precise age: based on your examination, could she have been eighteen? Or nineteen? Or twenty-two?”

“I guess so. She could have been.”

I shot the jury an expressive look before turning back to the witness.

“Doctor, the state has charged my client with causing death during an unnatural sex act.”

“Objection.” Keet stood at the prosecution table.

The judge tugged at the ear that held his hearing aid. “What grounds?”

“Defense counsel is making statements rather than asking a question.”

Unruffled, I said to the judge, “Your Honor, have I misstated the charge?”