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“Five dollars! An hour,” he exclaimed.
“It’s the going rate, Jerome. But I will pack a lot into those hours, I promise.”
“How long you reckon it take?” asked Jerome anxiously.
“If I were a public defender, the rate for a felony trial for murder would be about two hundred and fifty dollars.”
“Sweet Jesus!” exclaimed Jerome.
“And depending on the facts there may be nothing I can do for you, Jerome. I won’t sugarcoat this. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Damn,” he said as tears formed in his reddened eyes. “Okay, if you wanna be my lawyer, I hire you, sir.”
“You can call me Jack.”
“What your last name again?”
“Lee.”
“I’ll call you Mr. Lee.”
Jack nodded as he slipped a paper from his briefcase. “Okay. If that makes you more comfortable. I have this document for you to sign, saying that you agree that I’m to be your lawyer.”
He handed the paper and a pen to Jerome.
“Where I gots to sign?” Jack indicated the line and Jerome carefully made an X on the signature line. Without looking at Jack he handed the pen and paper back.
“That’s fine, Jerome, thank you. Now, you are to say nothing to anyone except me. Not the police or the jailers or another prisoner. Do you understand? Nothing.”
Jerome nodded.
“My phone number is on that card I gave you. The police have to let you call me. Don’t let them tell you that you can’t. All right?”
“Okay, Mr. Lee.”
Jack rose and Jerome stared at the wall again, the tears trickling down his face and his big hands balling and unballing, his huge chest swelling and then emptying of air.
The jailer came at Jack’s call and led him back down the hall.
“You know the Randolphs?” asked the jailer.
“I certainly know of them.”
“Old Virginia stock. Back to Jefferson himself,” said the jailer proudly, as though the Randolphs were part of his family. “And that colored man killed ’em.”
“He’s accused of killing them. Nothing has been proven yet.”
The jailer looked at him like Jack was speaking in tongues.
Outside Frank Lee was standing next to the Fiat, smoking. “How’d it go, Jacky?”
“Just get in the car, Daddy.”
Frank Lee stamped out his Camel and climbed in.
Jack put the Fiat in gear and they drove off.
“Well?” said Frank.
