Blood on the Leaves Part 26

The judge paid the group a compliment and indicated they'd made good choices. He noted that one jury several months ago had decided to wear all black, which "scared the bejesus outta the poor defendant and didn't make me feel my usually bubbly self." After a minute or two of pleasant bantering, he got serious and invited Reynolds to continue with the state's case.

Reynolds walked slowly to the podium and faced the judge. "The state calls April Reeves," he announced in a clear voice, surprising many in the court who'd expected this phase of the trial to conclude.

Upon hearing the name, Matheson seemed to turn stone cold. The rear door opened, and a dignified black woman in her early sixties entered. She proceeded down the aisle of a hushed courtroom. All eyes remained focused on her as she approached the witness stand and raised her right hand.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you G.o.d?" asked the clerk of the court.

"I do," she replied confidently.

"State your full name for the record."

"April Patricia Reeves."

"You may be seated," Tanner said politely. "Counselor, please proceed with your witness."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Reynolds said, shuffling through some papers. After a few moments he closed his file and took several steps away from the podium and toward the witness stand. He positioned himself an equal distance from the jury and Mrs. Reeves in an effort to partially block Matheson's view.

"Mrs. Reeves, where do you currently reside?"

"Atlanta, Georgia. I've lived there for almost twenty years."

"Do you know the defendant?"

"I certainly do."

"And what's the nature of your relationship?"

"He's my son," she declared proudly.

Excited murmuring occurred throughout the courtroom. Tanner banged his gavel once and immediately restored order. "Unless you're giving testimony or serving as counsel in this trial," he chastised those seated in the chambers, "I strongly recommend everybody remain quiet." He made himself more comfortable. "Mr. Reynolds, please continue."

"Is there a reason why you have a different last name from your son's?"

"Martin's father and I were divorced more than thirty years ago. I remarried."

"Mrs. Reeves, could you tell us the reason your marriage ended?"

Miller rose and almost knocked over the pitcher of water on the defense table. "Your Honor, this isn't divorce court."

"Is that an objection to the question, Counselor?" Tanner asked.

"Yes, Your Honor, on the grounds of relevance."

Tanner released a frustrated sigh and directed his remarks to a patient Reynolds. "Where are you going with this?"

"Your Honor, it's important that the state be allowed to pursue this line of inquiry to establish a basis for Professor Matheson's racial animus." Reynolds spoke calmly and with a sense of a.s.surance. He hoped his tone would conceal his true feelings of insecurity and dread.

Tanner thought about it for a moment and scribbled a note. "I'll allow it for now," he said reluctantly. "But I reserve the right to reverse myself. The witness may answer. The court reporter will read back the question."

The reporter reviewed her notes. "*Mrs. Reeves, could you tell us the reason your marriage ended?'" She appeared as interested in hearing the answer as everyone else in the room.

Reeves moved slightly forward and addressed the jury. "I had and continue to have great respect and affection for my ex-husband. But he was consumed with his work." She glanced at the Reverend Matheson, who had his head bowed.

"As a civil rights activist?" Reynolds inquired.

"Yes. I wanted to be supportive, but he insisted on exposing Martin to violent demonstrations. It led to many conflicts between us."

"At what age was your son first exposed to these violent demonstrations?"

"He was a baby, no older than five. Samuel felt the Movement needed children."

"By Samuel, are you referring to your ex-husband, the Reverend Matheson?"

"Yes."

"You indicated the Reverend needed children for the Movement. What role were they to play?"

"Martin's father was certain that if the world saw the hate directed toward innocent children, including our son, that such violent encounters would change public opinion."

"You disagreed?"

"I was a mother, not a strategist."

Reynolds glanced at the jury and noticed Mrs. Whitney nodding in approval. "How did your son's partic.i.p.ation in the Civil Rights Movement at such an early age affect him?"

Miller once again rose, except this time he held the pitcher of water. "Your Honor, I object. Mrs. Reeves is not an expert in psychology."

"You've obviously never been a mother," replied Tanner, which elicited some laughter from the jury and court observers. "Overruled. The witness may answer."

"At first our son was very proud and excited. He felt he was partic.i.p.ating in a great cause. And he was." She succeeded in making eye contact with Matheson and smiled warmly. He gave her a rea.s.suring nod.

"Did his feelings ever change?" Reynolds continued.

"It was after he'd been called . . ." She hesitated. "A racial slur," she said uncomfortably. "I believe it may have been the first time he ever heard that word. At least, directed at him with such force."

"How old was your son at the time?"

"Five or six. A truck driver had yelled at him. The man was quite huge, with ma.s.sive arms and a powerful build. It was hard to imagine someone that size screaming at a child so young, and with such fury."

Reynolds moved closer to the jury and allowed Reeves to have an un.o.bstructed view of Matheson. "What did your son do? How did he react?"

"He was too frightened to do anything. But late that night I heard him crying in his room." She suddenly became uneasy, her voice more emotional.

"Would you like to take a moment and drink some water, Mrs. Reeves?"

"Thank you." She poured a gla.s.s of water and took several sips, then removed a tissue from her purse.

"I just have a few more questions, Mrs. Reeves. And then I'll stop, okay?"

She nodded gratefully.

"You mentioned you heard your son crying in his room the night of the incident. What happened next?"

"I went to him. And held him. And tried to convince him everything would be all right."

"Was he convinced?"

She shook her head. "He made me promise I wouldn't tell his father that he'd cried." She again looked at her ex-husband, who still avoided her. "He didn't want to disappoint him."

Reynolds walked past Matheson and stared at him for a moment, but the defendant didn't return the look. "Did he say anything else?"

"He wanted to know what he'd done to cause grown men to hate him so much."

Reynolds studied the jury. Some of the women were wiping away tears. Men looked at the floor. He glanced at Matheson, who stared at his mother with a son's concern.

"Did your son ask you any more questions?"

She looked at the Reverend Matheson, who now stared at her with interest. She shifted her attention to Reynolds. "He wanted to know why his father hadn't come to his defense, to protect him from that kind of evil."

Reynolds spotted Miller listening intently. "How did you respond?"

"I tried to find a way to explain it to him, but before I could begin, he started crying again. His body shook with pain and humiliation. I just held him and tried to comfort him."

"Did you tell your husband?"

"I pleaded with him not to take Martin to any more demonstrations." She faced the jury. "Maybe I was wrong. Selfish. But I didn't want my son scarred by racial hatred. I didn't want him to be the target of that animosity, ever again."

"No further questions." Reynolds moved to the prosecutor's table and sat next to Sinclair, who'd used up her second tissue.

The courtroom remained silent until Tanner interrupted. "Mr. Miller?"

Miller stood and took a few careful steps toward Mrs. Reeves. He looked at her sympathetically. "Mrs. Reeves, you love your son, do you not?"

"Very much."

"Know him the way only a mother could?"

"I believe I do."

Miller vacillated for a moment, then asked his question. "Is your son capable of the kind of hate necessary to commit the crime of which he is accused?"

Reynolds stood. "Calls for speculation."

"I'll allow it," Tanner ruled. "Answer the question, Mrs. Reeves."

She looked at Matheson, then turned directly to the jury. "The son I held in my arms, the son who cried himself to sleep while I told him I loved him, that son, my son, is not capable of that hate." She turned back to Miller.

"Thank you, Mrs. Reeves." Miller joined Matheson and sat down. "I have no further questions."

Reynolds stood before Tanner could address him. "Your Honor, just a few additional questions."

"Proceed."

"Mrs. Reeves, you're here as a result of being served a subpoena, isn't that true?"

"That's correct."

"You don't want to say anything that is damaging to your son, is that safe to a.s.sume?"

"I'm here to tell the truth as I swore to do." She looked at Matheson for a moment, then addressed Reynolds. "I can't imagine the truth being harmful to my son."

"Mrs. Reeves, just moments ago you told this jury you were trying to protect your son from the harsh realities of racism and bigotry and violence."

"He was a child then."

"And yet the ugly truth hurt him and eventually also destroyed your marriage. So it seems the truth can be harmful to everyone, even two loving adults." He watched her bow her head and didn't want to push any further, but had to. "Wouldn't you agree?"

She raised her head and answered, "Regretfully, I would."

Reynolds sought the safety of the podium and stood behind it. "Mrs. Reeves, you testified you didn't want your son scarred by racial hatred. Do you believe your son-not the child but the man, the defendant in this courtroom today-do you believe he's been scarred by that hatred?"

She folded her hands together and sat erect. "Mr. Reynolds, I believe everyone has been scarred by that hatred. The ones who have been scarred the most may not even be aware of it." She looked at her ex-husband, who stared at his son.

"Thank you, Mrs. Reeves," Reynolds said sincerely. "I have no further questions, Your Honor."

"Mr. Miller?" inquired Tanner.

"I'll spare Mrs. Reeves any more testimony," answered Miller.

The judge dismissed the witness and called for a lunch recess. The jury lingered behind, leaving their box as slowly as possible. Reynolds knew they were waiting for the obvious reunion. He'd hoped this would happen outside their presence, but why should his luck change anytime soon?

Mrs. Reeves proceeded directly to the defense table and shook hands with Miller, then embraced her son for a long time. The two guards stood by respectfully and watched the emotional embrace. After a moment, the Reverend Matheson joined them. He hugged his ex-wife just as the last two jurors left the room. The Matheson family joined hands with Miller, bowed their heads, and prayed, led by the Reverend Matheson.

After the recess, the state rested its case, and Miller asked for an adjournment so that he might consult with his client and advise the court in the morning whether the defense would also rest. Tanner granted the request and dismissed the jury for the rest of the day.

Miller met with Matheson in the court's holding room. "I'm going to ask for a directed verdict," he informed the professor. "It's pretty standard fare, but I think we might have a chance, even with this judge."

"I don't want to take that risk," advised Matheson.

"What risk?"

"That he might rule favorably on your motion," answered Matheson.

"Excuse me," said Miller, looking bewildered, "but isn't that why we went to trial . . . to win?"

"I don't want a victory based on an edict from a judge who feels the state hasn't reached some imaginary threshold," responded Matheson. "I want you to put on a defense."

"We don't need a defense," Miller said. "The state hasn't proven anything. The longer the trial goes on, the more time they have to discover additional evidence or locate a new witness or . . ."