Keith slept, off and on, for four hours, then finally got out of bed and went to the kitchen. He checked CNN, saw nothing new, then opened his laptop and checked in with Houston. On Chron.com there were several stories, with Robbie and his lawsuits1 getting the lead. There was a photo of him waving some papers on the steps of the Chester County Courthouse. He was quoted at length, with predictable statements about hounding those responsible for the wrongful death of Donte Drumm to their graves. None of the defendants2, including the governor, commented.
The next story was about the reactions of the various anti-death-penalty groups in the state, and Keith was proud to see ATeXX taking the lead. There were demands for a number of drastic responses--the usual moratorium3 on executions, investigations5 of the Slone Police Department, the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, the governor's handling of clemency6, the trial itself, Paul Koffee and his office, and on and on. Demonstrations7 were planned for noon Tuesday at the State Capitol in Austin, Sam Houston State University in Huntsville, Texas Southern University, and a dozen other schools.
The longest-serving member of the Texas Senate was a feisty black attorney from Houston, Rodger Ebbs8, and he had a lot to say. He was demanding that the governor call an emergency session of the legislature so that a special inquiry9 could be initiated10 to investigate all aspects of the Drumm fiasco. Ebbs was vice11 chairman of the Senate Finance Committee, and thus had considerable influence over every aspect of the state's budget. He promised to shut down the state government if a special session did not take place. No comment from the governor.
Drifty Tucker, the next man scheduled to be executed, was suddenly in the news. His date was November 28, a little over two weeks away, and his case, dormant12 for a decade, was attracting a lot of attention.
Eliza Keene's article was number four on the list. Keith clicked on it and saw the photo of himself, Robbie, Aaron, and Martha Handler, all looking quite serious as they left the train station for the trip to Huntsville. The headline was "Kansas Minister Witnessed Drumm Execution." She covered the basics of the story and attributed several quotes to Keith. She, too, had witnessed an execution, years earlier, and was intrigued13 by how someone could be approved as a witness on such short notice. No one from the prison would comment. Evidently, she had contacted the Flak Law Firm for a word or two, but found no one willing to talk. A counselor14 at Anchor House said that Reverend Schroeder had stopped by at least twice the previous week looking for Boyette. He had signed the register. Boyette's parole officer was mum. About half the article dealt with Keith and Boyette and their mad rush to Texas to stop the execution. There was a smaller photo of Boyette taken when he addressed the reporters the previous Thursday. The second half of the report took a different turn and dwelled on Keith's potential legal problems. Could the minister be prosecuted15 for knowingly aiding a felon16 in his flight to violate parole? To get to the bottom of this, Ms. Keene called upon some experts. A law professor at the University of Houston was quoted: "It was an honorable thing to do, but a clear violation17 of the law. Now that Boyette is at large, I suspect the minister might want to consult with a lawyer."
Thanks, loudmouth, Keith said to himself. And the violation is anything but clear, according to my lawyer. Perhaps you should do a bit of research before popping off in the press.
A criminal defense18 lawyer in Houston said, "There may be a violation, but looking at the whole picture, I think the guy is a hero. I would love to defend him before a jury."
A jury? Elmo Laird was hoping for a quick, quiet little guilty plea with a slap on the wrist. That's what Keith remembered, anyway. And to cover all angles, Ms. Keene chatted with a former Texas prosecutor19 who was quoted as saying, "A crime is a crime, regardless of the circumstances. I would cut him no slack. The fact that he's a minister is of no significance."
The fifth article was a continuation of the ferocious20 investigation4 into what happened in the governor's office in the waning21 hours before the execution. So far, the team of journalists had been unable to smoke out anyone from inside the governor's office who would admit to having seen the video of Boyette making his confession22. The e-mail was sent from the Flak Law Firm at 3:11 p.m., and Robbie certainly made his server records available. The governor's office did not. Nothing was forthcoming. His close aides, and dozens who were not so close, were marching in step and saying nothing. This would probably change. When the investigations began, and the subpoenas23 started flying, the finger-pointing would begin.
At 6:02 a.m., the phone rang. Caller ID showed it as "Unknown." Keith grabbed it before it woke up Dana and the boys. A man with a thick accent, possibly French, said he was looking for Reverend Keith Schroeder.
"And who are you?"
"My name is Antoine Didier; I'm with Le Monde, a newspaper in Paris. I would like to speak about the Drumm matter."
"I'm sorry, I have no comment." Keith hung up and waited for it to ring again. It did, he grabbed it, gave an abrupt24 "No comment, sir," then hung up again. There were four phones in the house, and he hurried through and punched "Do Not Disturb" on all of them. In the bedroom, Dana was coming to life. "Who is calling?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.
"The French."
"The who?"
"Get up. It might be a long day."
Lazarus Flint was the first black park ranger25 in East Texas. For over thirty years, he had supervised the maintenance of Rush Point along the Red River, and for the past nine years he and his two staff members had patiently cared for the sacred ground upon which the family and friends of Nicole Yarber made their treks26 and conducted their vigils. He had watched them for years. They showed up every now and then, and they would sit at the point near the makeshift cross. They would sit and cry and burn candles, all the while gazing into the river in the distance, as if the river had taken her away. As if they knew for certain that was her final resting place. And once a year, on the anniversary of her disappearance27, her mother made her annual pilgrimage to Rush Point, always with cameras around her, always wailing28 and carrying on. They burned more candles, packed flowers around the cross, brought mementos29 and crude artwork and signs with messages. They would stay until dark, and always left with a prayer at the cross.
Lazarus was from Slone, and he had never believed Donte was guilty. One of his nephews was sent away for a burglary he had nothing to do with, and Lazarus, like most blacks in Slone, had never trusted the police. They got the wrong man, he'd said many times from a distance as he watched Nicole's family and friends carry on.
Early Tuesday, long before anyone arrived at Rush Point, Lazarus parked his pickup30 truck near the shrine31 and slowly, methodically began dismantling32 the junk. He yanked the cross from the ground--there had been several crosses over the years, each larger than the last. He lifted the wax-covered block of granite33 upon which they stuck the candles. There were four photos of Nicole, two laminated and two framed in glass. A very pretty girl, Lazarus thought as he placed the photos in his truck. A terrible death, but then so was Donte's. He gathered tiny porcelain35 figures of cheerleaders, clay tablets with printed messages, bronze works with no discernible meanings, baffling works of oil on canvas, and bunches of wilted36 flowers.
It was a load of trash, in his opinion.
What a waste, Lazarus said to himself as he drove away. Wasted effort, time, tears, emotions, hatred37, hope, prayers. The girl had been more than five hours away, buried in the hills of Missouri by someone else. She had never been near Rush Point.
Paul Koffee entered the chambers38 of Judge Henry on Tuesday at 12:15. Though it was lunchtime, there was no food in sight. Judge Henry stayed behind his desk, and Koffee sat in a deep leather chair, one he knew well.
Koffee had not left his cabin since Friday night. On Monday, he had not called his office, and his staff knew nothing of his whereabouts. His two court appearances, both in front of Judge Henry, had been postponed39. He looked gaunt, tired, pale, with even deeper circles under his eyes. His customary prosecutor's swagger had vanished.
"How are you doing these days, Paul?" the judge began pleasantly.
"I've been better."
"I'm sure you have. Are you and your staff still working on the theory that Drumm and Boyette were in cahoots?"
"We're giving that some thought," Koffee said while staring out a window to his left. Eye contact was difficult for Koffee, but not for Judge Henry.
"Perhaps I can help here, Paul. You and I, and the rest of the world at this moment, know full well that such a ridiculous theory is nothing but a sick, lame41, desperate attempt to save your ass34. Paul, listen to me, your ass cannot be saved. Nothing can save you. And if you trot42 out this co-defendant theory, you will be laughed out of town. Worse, it will only create more tension. It's not going to fly, Paul. Don't pursue it. Don't file anything, because if you do, I'll dismiss it immediately. Forget about it, Paul. Forget about everything in your office right now."
"Are you telling me to quit?"
"Yes. Immediately. Your career will end in disgrace; get it over with, Paul. Until you step down, the blacks will be in the streets."
"Suppose I don't want to resign?"
"I can't make you, but I can make you wish you had. I'm your judge, Paul, I rule on every motion in every case. I preside over every trial. As long as you are the district attorney, your office gets nothing out of me. Don't even file a motion, because I won't consider it. Don't indict43 anyone; I'll quash the indictments44. Don't ask for a trial, because I'm busy that week. Nothing, Paul, nothing. You and your staff will be able to do nothing."
Koffee was breathing through his mouth, frowning at the judge, trying to digest what he'd just heard. "That's pretty severe, Judge."
"If that's what it takes to get you out of office."
"I could file a complaint."
Judge Henry laughed. "I'm eighty-one years old and retiring. I don't care."
Koffee slowly got to his feet and walked to a window. He spoke45 with his back to the judge. "I don't care either, Elias, to be honest. I just want to get outta here, take a break, run away. I'm only fifty-six, still young enough to do something else." A long pause as Koffee rubbed a pane46 of glass with a finger. "God, I can't believe this, Judge. How did this happen?"
"Everybody got careless. Bad police work. When there's no evidence, the easiest way to solve a crime is to get a confession."
Koffee turned around and took a few steps to the edge of the desk. His eyes were moist, his hands trembled. "I can't lie, Judge. I feel rotten."
"I understand. I'm sure I would too, under the circumstances."
Koffee stared at his feet for a long time. Finally, he said, "I'll quit, Elias, if that's what it takes. I guess that means a special election."
"Eventually, but I have a suggestion. When you resign, put Grimshaw in charge, he's the best of your assistants. Call in the grand jury and indict Boyette for the crime. The faster, the better. It's a wonderfully symbolic47 act--we, the judicial48 system, in effect admit our mistake, and we are now trying to rectify49 it by prosecuting50 the real killer51. Our admission will do much to soothe52 feelings in Slone."
Koffee nodded and shook the judge's hand.
Keith's office at St. Mark's received numerous calls throughout the day. Charlotte Junger fielded them all, explaining that the reverend was unavailable for comment. Keith finally arrived, late in the afternoon. He had been hiding at the hospital all day, visiting the sick, far away from phones and nosy53 reporters.
At his request, Charlotte had kept a log of all callers, and Keith studied it in his office, door locked, phone unplugged. The reporters were from everywhere, from San Diego to Boston, Miami to Portland. Six of the thirty-nine were from European papers, eleven from Texas. One reporter said he was from Chile, though Charlotte wasn't sure because of the accent. Three members of St. Mark's had called to complain. They did not like the fact that their pastor54 was accused of violating the law; indeed, he seemed to be admitting it. Two members called to express their admiration55 and support. The story, though, had not yet made it to the Topeka morning paper. That would happen the next day, and Keith expected the same photo to be splashed all over his hometown.
Luke, the six-year-old, had a soccer game under the lights, and since it was Tuesday, the Schroeder family ate at their favorite pizza place. The boys were in bed by 9:30, Keith and Dana by 10:00. They debated whether to keep the phones silent, but in the end agreed to remove the "Do Not Disturb" hold and hope for the best. If one reporter called, they would silence the phones. At 11:12, the phone rang. Keith, still awake, grabbed it and said, "Hello."
"Pastor, Pastor, how are we?" It was Travis Boyette. In anticipation56 of this unlikely event, Keith had rigged a small recorder to his phone. He pushed "Record" and said, "Hello, Travis," and Dana came to life. She scrambled57 out of bed, flipped58 on a light switch, grabbed her cell phone, and began punching the number of a Detective Lang, a man they had met with twice.
"What are you doing these days?" Keith asked. Just a couple of old friends. Lang had told him to keep Boyette on the line as long as possible.
"Moving around, can't stay in one place too long." His tongue was thick, his words slow.
"Still in Missouri?"
"Naw, I left Missouri before you did, Pastor. I'm here and there."
"You forgot your cane59, Travis. Left it on the bed. Why did you do that?"
"Don't need it, never did. I exaggerated a little bit, Pastor, please forgive me. I got a tumor60, but it's been with me for a long time. Meningioma, not a glioblastoma. Grade one. Benign61 little fella. It acts up every now and then, but I doubt if it will kill me. The cane was a weapon, Pastor, something I used for self-defense. You live with a bunch of thugs in a halfway62 house, and you just never know when you might need a weapon." Country music was in the background; he was probably in a seedy lounge.
"But you had a limp."
"Well, come on, Pastor, if you're using a cane, you need a little limp, don't you think?"
"I wouldn't know, Travis. You got some folks looking for you."
"The story of my life. They'll never find me. Just like they never found Nicole. Have they buried her yet, Pastor?"
"No. Her funeral is Thursday. Donte's is tomorrow."
"I might sneak63 around and watch Nicole's, whatta you think about that, Pastor?"
Great idea. They would not only catch him but probably beat him. "I think you should, Travis. You're the reason for the funeral. Seems fitting."
"How's that cute little wife of yours, Pastor? Bet you guys are having fun. She's so fine."
"Knock it off, Travis." Keep him on the line. "You thought much about Donte Drumm?"
"Not really. We should've known those people down there wouldn't listen to us."
"They would have, Travis, if you had come forward earlier. If we had found the body first, the execution would not have happened."
"Still blaming me, huh?"
"Who else, Travis? I guess you're still the victim, right?"
"I don't know what I am. Tell you what, though, Pastor. I gotta find a woman, know what I mean?"
"Listen to me, Travis. Tell me where you are, and I'll come get you and bring you back to Topeka. I'll leave right now. We'll do another road trip, just the two of us. I don't care where you are. You'll be locked up here, and then they'll extradite you to Missouri. Do what's right for once, Travis, and nobody else will get hurt. Let's do it, pal40."
"I don't like prison, Pastor. I've seen enough to know."
"But you're tired of hurting people, Travis. I know you are. You told me so."
"I guess. I gotta go, Pastor."
"Call me anytime, Travis. I'm not tracing these calls. I just want to talk to you."
The phone line was dead.
An hour later, Detective Lang was at the house, listening to the recording64. They had been able to trace the call to the owner of a stolen cell phone in Lincoln, Nebraska.
收听单词发音 |
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lawsuits
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| n.诉讼( lawsuit的名词复数 ) | |
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defendants
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| 被告( defendant的名词复数 ) | |
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moratorium
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| n.(行动、活动的)暂停(期)，延期偿付 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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clemency
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| n.温和，仁慈，宽厚 | |
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demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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ebbs
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| 退潮( ebb的名词复数 )； 落潮； 衰退 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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intrigued
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| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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counselor
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| n.顾问，法律顾问 | |
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prosecuted
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| a.被起诉的 | |
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felon
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| n.重罪犯；adj.残忍的 | |
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violation
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| n.违反(行为)，违背(行为)，侵犯 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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prosecutor
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| n.起诉人；检察官，公诉人 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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subpoenas
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| n.（传唤出庭的）传票( subpoena的名词复数 )v.（用传票）传唤（某人）( subpoena的第三人称单数 ) | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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ranger
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| n.国家公园管理员，护林员；骑兵巡逻队员 | |
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treks
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| n.远距离行走 ( trek的名词复数 )；长途跋涉，艰难的旅程（尤指在山区）v.艰苦跋涉，徒步旅行( trek的第三人称单数 )；（尤指在山中）远足，徒步旅行，游山玩水 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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mementos
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| 纪念品，令人回忆的东西( memento的名词复数 ) | |
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pickup
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| n.拾起，获得 | |
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shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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dismantling
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| （枪支）分解 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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wilted
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| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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indict
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| v.起诉，控告，指控 | |
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indictments
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| n.（制度、社会等的）衰败迹象( indictment的名词复数 )；刑事起诉书；公诉书；控告 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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rectify
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| v.订正，矫正，改正 | |
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prosecuting
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| 检举、告发某人( prosecute的现在分词 )； 对某人提起公诉； 继续从事（某事物）； 担任控方律师 | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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nosy
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| adj.鼻子大的，好管闲事的，爱追问的；n.大鼻者 | |
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pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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60
tumor
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| n.（肿）瘤，肿块(英)tumour | |
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61
benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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62
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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63
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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64
recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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