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“But Gordon Hanover will testify that Leslie Randolph thought Jerome was stealing and had been in the house without permission, and that he was planning on firing Jerome. And he has no motive to lie,” noted Jack.
“But there’s no proof Randolph told Jerome that he was going to fire him. And Anne Randolph was planning to divorce her husband. She might have told Sam and he decided to kill them.”
“So we make Sam and his situation our reasonable-doubt strategy?” said DuBose.
“Only we can’t place him at the crime scene.”
“We don’t have to prove that he did it, only that he could have. Because he doesn’t have an alibi.”
Jack said, “I hope Donny can somehow tie the blue convertible to Sam.”
“But in order to get that evidence in, we have to put Jerome on the stand. He’s the one who saw the car. Now, is Sam the only one with a motive?” she mused.
“Well, Christine and her husband were in Washington, DC. And they were financially supporting her parents. They clearly don’t need the money. So there’s no motive, means, or opportunity for her or Gordon.”
“And we’re sure they are in good financial shape?”
“I had Donny run a check. The Hanovers are worth at least three million dollars with little debt.”
“I guess that answers that.” She paused. “You and your brother look an awful lot alike. Same eyes.”
“But the war changed him,” Jack said earnestly. “Before that, he was pretty basic. Beer, football, girls, and guns but... it just changed him.”
“War often does to that people.”
He looked at her. “You’re in a war, too.”
“And now so are you,” she replied, a bit sadly, Jack thought.
He looked back at the chalkboard. “The Randolphs liked Jerome and his family. They paid him a cash bonus, according to Jerome. They invited them over for lunch and the pool, or rather Anne Randolph did. Apparently, she was more enlightened than her husband on such things. And who would have been upset that the Randolphs were divorcing?”
“Sam? A divorce might mess up his inheritance. Or so he thought.”
“What if he hired someone to kill his parents before they divorced?”
“But we can’t show he even knew of the divorce,” she replied.
“Right.”
DuBose said decisively, “I’ll take Janice Evans, and you have a go at the divorce lawyer, and let’s hope for at least one miracle between us.”
CHAPTER 62
THEY DROVE TO COURT ON the first day of the trial. When they turned the last corner Jack exclaimed, “Damn!”
“What exactly did you expect?” said an unfazed DuBose.
There was a large crowd outside the courthouse. Some held signs with images of a Black man in a noose. Another large placard pro-claimed, THE KILLER COLOREDS MUST FRY. Other signs used even more graphic language and images. Confederate battle flags were waving everywhere. A few streets over, Jack’s old home and office were now still-smoldering ruins.
DuBose glanced to where Howard Pickett stood next to his chauffeur-driven car as he was being interviewed by the local NBC station. News trucks were parked out front, cameramen were filming journalists reporting on the case, and other media members were interviewing folks in the crowd.
Jack did a quick U-turn and parked on a side street.
“We’ll go in through another entrance near the rear,” he said.
* * *
Twenty minutes later the bailiff announced, “All rise.”
