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The packed courtroom followed this directive, and Judge Ambrose marched in and took his high seat.
The angry chants from the mob outside could be heard inside, further fueling an already emotional atmosphere.
Jack had watched Jerome come into the courtroom, dressed in his church suit and tie, and take his seat with him and DuBose. It occurred to Jack that he had never seen Jerome walk or even stand before. He was a truly large man. But his left leg had a pronounced limp.
Pearl had been brought in from another doorway. She looked nervous and fearful in the simple blue dress her mother had brought her to wear. But when she saw her husband she appeared to relax a bit.
Jack maneuvered the chairs so that the couple could sit side by side and converse in low voices.
DuBose explained, “This is jury selection today. We can challenge potential jurors and the commonwealth can, too. Our goal is not to end up with people who have formed an opinion about this case, and not in a good way for you and Pearl, you understand?”
Jerome said, “Yeah, but damned if I can see how you gonna do it.”
Jack said, “Now, we have unlimited challenges for cause, but we only get four preemptory challenges, meaning we can disqualify a juror for any reason.”
DuBose said, “And we may end up using them all.”
Battle and his two lieutenants looked ready to go to war. Ambrose peered over the courtroom with an excited if benevolent air.
Jack’s parents and brother were in one of the middle rows and had smiled encouragingly at Jack. Miss Jessup was seated to the left of Hilly Lee. Their presence made his small stomach butterflies turn into ones the size of condors. He noted Sally Reeves, the clerk of the court, was seated near the front, with what looked to be some of her older children. She looked at Jack and then whispered something to the teenage towheaded boy next to her. He laughed. Then he turned his gaze to Jack, and a mask of loathing descended over his youthful features.
Jack turned to look at DuBose, who seemed both relaxed and expectant. But then she’d litigated high-profile cases all over the country. She’d argued and won a case before the highest court in the land. She was used to this level of scrutiny.
You are so far out of your depth, Jack Lee. Is this a dream? Or, more accurately, your worst nightmare? No, what happened to Lucy was your worst nightmare. But this is an uncomfortably close second.
He felt a surge of panic coming on. Then strong fingers closed around his under the table, and he turned to see DuBose’s reassuring gaze on him. She smiled and whispered, “You can do this. You deserve to be here, Jack.”
He smiled back and his nerves did ease some. The condors had now reduced to mere hawks in his belly.
Ambrose said, “Bailiff, bring in the juror pool.”
The bailiff nodded at the deputy standing next to the rear doors. He opened them and motioned to someone out there. A moment later a column of twenty people walked down the center aisle and over to the juror box.
“That be the folks gone be on the jury?” exclaimed Jerome. “They all white men.”
DuBose rose and said, “Judge, this juror pool is prima facie unconstitutional. It requires a jury of the defendants’ peers. There is not one Black person or a female.”
Ambrose nodded. “I sympathize with you, Miss DuBose. I truly do. But it’s the same all across the state. I will keep an eye on things. And you have your challenges to fall back on.” He eyed the attorney general. “No funny business today, Mr. Battle.”
“Excuse me, Your Honor?” said a stricken Battle.
Ambrose eyed him cagily. “We all know why you’re here, sir. And why the death penalty was reinstated. And I was made aware of your actions with a certain dubious letter regarding representation of the defendant?”
Battle began to protest but the judge cut him off. “Let’s get to it.”
Ambrose intoned to the juror pool, “Now, the process of jury selection is called voir dire, which is old French meaning, ‘to speak the truth,’ which we expect all of you to do. Jury pool member number one, please take the witness stand.”
A man in a brown pin-striped suit came forward and was sworn in. He gave his name as Nathan Talmadge. The judge asked the usual questions, whether sitting on the jury would cause undue hardship, or whether the juror was related to the defendants by blood or marriage.
To this last query Talmadge uttered a firm, “No, sir.”
Talmadge went on to swear that he had no preconceived opinions about the case and had no financial interest in the outcome.
“Mr. Battle?” said the judge.
“No questions, Your Honor.”
“Defense counsel?” said Ambrose.
