Chapter 50
CHAPTER
BULLOCK COUNTY COURTHOUSE UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA
I did that trick of mine. Took my seat at the bench before the hearing was scheduled. I wanted to see them all as they walked in. To get a feel for the situation. See where everyone’s head was. It’s lots easier to read people when they’re not quite ready for you, not prepared to be seen.
The DA arrived a little early. Maybe he was anticipating my move. Reeves walked in with a bounce in his step. Smile on his face. Looked like he’d won a hand pay at the casino.
That was interesting.
I called to him before he took his seat. “Will the AG’s office be assisting you today, Mr. Reeves?”
He paused with his hand on the back of his chair. “Why do you ask, Judge?”
The DA was already riling me. Getting my back up, and we hadn’t even begun.
He was showing disrespect without cause.
He had no reason to push back. I’m entitled to know who’s appearing in my court.
“I want it for the record. The docket entry will need to reflect who’s representing the prosecution today. ”
“Well,” he said, setting his laptop on the table. “That would be me.”
Then he smiled. Not at me, you understand. A private smile, like he knew something I didn’t know.
I was chewing on that, debating whether I should light into him now or later, when Ben Meyers entered the courtroom, with Dr. Gaines following behind.
I almost gawked. Had to pull a poker face, fast. Swiveled my chair to face my computer screen, tapped the keyboard like I was doing court business.
Faking it, in fact. I couldn’t even see what was on the screen. The sight of Bria Gaines walking into court was burned into my brain.
That poor woman.
It was crushing her. I could see it from my first glimpse. She couldn’t mask it. It had gone on too long, gone too far. Her eyes were swollen and puffy from lack of sleep. She was gaunt, her face hollowed out, cheekbones prominent.
She wasn’t eating, that was apparent. The weight loss wasn’t confined to her face. Her dress hung off her, like she was a kid wearing her big sister’s clothes. Reminded me of Jordan playing dress-up in my church clothes, when I was a teenager and she was in kindergarten.
As the defense settled in, I gave them the side-eye. Sneaked a glance at their table. Bria tried to compose herself, was working hard at it. She sat straight in her chair. Held her head up high.
But when she uncapped her pen, her hands shook so violently that she dropped it on the floor. It rolled under the counsel table. She scooted her chair back, like she meant to get down there on her knees and hunt for it. Her lawyer stopped her. Found her a fresh pen. She shot him a grateful look.
And then both of her hands disappeared from view. Hiding them on her lap, I suspected. She was self-conscious about the tremor.
I caught the DA checking Bria out. I could see his smug expression as he turned back to his laptop.
My face grew hot. I knew what was happening. The DA was easy to read; I’d had lots of practice.
Reeves wasn’t blind. He could also observe the physical changes Dr. Gaines had undergone, could see the impact his case was having on the defendant. He viewed it as a victory. He was breaking Bria Gaines down. That was part of his case strategy. To make her crumble.
Bria Gaines is a confident Black woman—or was, when the whole process began.
To somebody like Reeves, a confident Black woman is trouble. It’s a character trait he doesn’t want to deal with. Makes him uncomfortable. Not just Reeves. All the people who think like him.
They love it when we break.
The vibe in court was confirming my instinct. That this case needed to go to trial. But I needed to see Bria’s reaction, hear what her lawyer had to say.
I gave the gavel a rap, to get everyone’s attention.
“I’d like to thank y’all for coming in today. You’re probably wondering why we’re here, since we don’t have any outstanding motions.”
Nobody said anything. Not a surprise, I hadn’t asked them to speak.
I went on. “The case of State v. Bria Gaines is on my jury docket, but we don’t have a firm date for trial, not at this time. Which isn’t unusual. Felony cases of this magnitude tend to languish for a long time before being tried before a jury.”
Reeves shrugged. Meyers nodded an acknowledgment. No response from Dr. Gaines.
“It happens, though, that I’m looking at an opening on my trial docket. A case was set for jury trial—a personal injury case, multiple parties. That big explosion on the highway. Y’all surely recall when that happened.”
Ben Meyers had caught on. He was whispering to Bria.
“The parties have recently informed me—they’ve reached an agreement on settlement. Which frees up two whole weeks on my calendar.”
I tapped my keyboard, pulled up my court calendar. There it was: a two-week stretch of blank space. No case numbers, case names, notations of matters to be heard and decided. By me.
“So! You know what I’m about to ask.”
Reeves jumped to his feet. “The State is always ready, Your Honor!”
Irritation buzzed in my ears. “Excuse me?”
“We’re ready for trial at any time.”
I snapped. “What are you doing out of that chair?”
He sidestepped, like he had more to say. “I just want to reassure the court that the State can be ready to go whenever the court wishes.”
If I were inclined to ask the Lord for favors, I would have sent up a prayer to grant me patience.
“Mr. Reeves, I wasn’t asking you. I know the State can be ready for trial.
Because you have all the power of the government on your side.
You have county law enforcement ready to offer whatever assistance you desire.
And in this particular case, you have even more power.
You got the whole damn state tied up in this case.
We’ve got the Alabama attorney general’s office and the governor of Alabama popping up in the Bullock County Courthouse like a Whac-a-Mole game.
Governor is saying—again—that the National Guard is on its way. ”
Reeves sat. Good.
I turned to the defense table. Ben Meyers had scooted his chair right next to Bria Gaines’s. They sat elbow to elbow. She was wide-eyed. Like she was afraid she’d be the next one in line for a tongue-lashing.
“I need to hear from the defense. The defendant has a constitutional right to a speedy trial. We all know that, right? But I was a defense attorney back in the day. And I know that the defense sometimes prefers delay. Particularly when the defendant is out on bond.”
There are a number of advantages to delay, from the defense perspective. Delay can weaken the State’s case. Over time, witnesses’ recollection may fade. Witnesses might move away, become unavailable to appear at trial. Sometimes the prosecutor’s interest in or appetite for the case will fade.
If Ben Meyers wanted more time for Bria, he’d get it. But I needed to see her face. If the waiting was going to destroy her, I had to fight that.
It was a tough call for them to make. Was it more brutal, more painful to proceed? Or to wait around?
Meyers spoke softly to her. I didn’t try to eavesdrop. Seemed like she trusted him. I saw her nod a couple of times. She whispered something in his ear.
At length, Meyers stood and said, “The defense has no objection to the trial setting.”
I had to be certain.
“Dr. Gaines?”
She looked up, startled. She hadn’t expected me to address her directly.
“Your Honor?”
“This setting’s just two weeks off. It’s unexpected, I know that. You’re comfortable with it? You sure?”
I saw her neck move when she swallowed. But her voice was stronger when she answered.
“Yes, Your Honor. I’m ready to have my case heard. I want to take it to a jury.”
“All right, then. Mr. Reeves, Mr. Meyers, we’ll conduct a pretrial conference the week before jury selection. My clerk will be in contact with y’all, to nail down the exact time for that.”
I stood. They stood.
“Court is adjourned.”
As I left the courtroom, the voice in my head was loud.
Sure as hell hope this isn’t a horrible mistake.