Jeff and Ella sat on a bench on the Square across from the courthouse. Two hours earlier, the district attorney had announced that a Lafayette County grand jury had voted to indict State Senator Tillman Jessup for the murder of Reverend Elijah Hall. All hell had broken loose. Reporters had scrambled for their phones and their cameras to break the news, and then they had assembled for a raucous press conference on the steps of the old courthouse.
Gibb Haynes had begun the conference by reading a brief statement, indicating that he had been in contact with Jessup’s attorneys, had advised them of the grand jury’s action, and had agreed that the senator would be arraigned the next day. In response to shouted questions, he had refused to disclose what the vote of the grand jurors had been and exactly who had testified, citing laws about grand jury secrecy.
“I want to be completely clear about this, so listen up,” Haynes had said, when asked how the grand jurors had reacted to the case. “These good citizens took their responsibility very seriously. They knew how important this case was to everyone—and that includes both the defendant, Senator Jessup, and the State of Mississippi. My office has been more than fair to the defendant and his attorneys. So I don’t want to hear any nonsense about this being some kind of political witch hunt. Never happened. Now we’ll all just let a jury decide, the same way it’s always been done around here. No special treatment asked for, and none given.”
When asked if the prosecution would seek the death penalty in the event of a conviction, Haynes had been silent for a moment. “Haven’t decided yet. But we’ll have an answer for the court at the time of the arraignment.”
Finally, a young reporter from the rear of the boisterous throng had jostled his way to the front and bellowed, “How can you justify to the people of Mississippi the act of indicting a respected public figure based on the testimony of a lifelong criminal?”
Haynes had raised his hands, signaling for quiet, and glowered at the questioner.
“I’m going to assume, sir,” he replied sternly, “that you’re not from around here. Because if you were, you’d know that I’ve been in this job for about as long as you’ve been alive, and during all that time I’ve always done what was right. Not what was popular. Not what was politically expedient. Just what was right. Understand something, all y’all,” he said, shifting his gaze away from the questioner and taking in the entire gathering. “I take no pleasure in this. I’ve known Senator Jessup and his family for a long time and I realize that a lot of people are going to be very angry about this indictment. But our justice system is bigger than a senator and bigger than a district attorney. The grand jury has spoken, and now it’s my job to present this case to a trial jury. And those good citizens,” he said, shooting one last glare at the questioner, “will decide Senator Jessup’s fate, sir, not me.”
With that, declaring that there would be no further statements from his office until they arrived in court the next day for the arraignment, Haynes had swept off the courthouse steps and retreated to his office.
After that, the media circus had, except for a few stragglers, withdrawn until the following day’s court date, leaving the Square cast in a sudden and overwhelming silence. After Ella had filed her sotry, she sought out Jeff, who had just met with Ricky Earl to break the news about the indictment.
“So,” she said, “how’d Ricky Earl react to the news?”
“It’s funny,” Jeff said thoughtfully, “it wasn’t what I expected.”
“Why?”
“Well, I thought he’d be excited, but he actually seemed a little sad. Maybe not sad, exactly.” He paused a moment. “But certainly not happy. I think the thing he was most pleased about was that he was going to be staying here for a while and not sent back to Parchman. Anyway, I imagine the folks up at the Times are happy.”
She nodded. “This story’s really got legs now. At first, it just looked to the national media like some Southern curiosity, a bizarre allegation that had flared up but would probably die down just as quickly. But now it’s become a drama worthy of Faulkner, a story of race, politics, and murder. Pretty powerful recipe.”
Jeff sighed. “We surely do know how to do drama down here.”
They were both quiet for a few minutes.
“So?” she asked.
“So . . . what?”
“So, what do you think? Are you happy that he’s been indicted?”
“Honestly? No. I mean, I’m certainly pleased as Ricky Earl’s lawyer. That’s my job. And I do believe Jessup killed Elijah Hall. But there’s a part of me that wishes that it wasn’t true. This trial’s going to tear this place apart. Not just Oxford,” he said, gesturing around the Square, “but this whole state. And I’m just not sure what’s going to come from it.”
After a moment, Ella said softly, “I think he’d be proud of you.”
“What?” asked Jeff, puzzled. “Who?”
“Your father.” She paused a moment, then continued. “I know about the Alzheimer’s. But if he was still well, still himself, I think he’d be proud of you. Of what you’re doing here.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. The funny thing is we never really used to talk much about the law and his cases. Talked a lot about sports, but not so much about other things.”
“Too bad you can’t talk to him about this case.”
Jeff turned and looked at her directly. “Remember at the diner the other night? When you told me that you hadn’t been completely honest with me?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Well, I haven’t been completely honest with you, either.”
“About what?”
“About me and my father.”
“What do you mean?”
“When we first met, you asked me about being William Trannon’s son and trying to follow in his footsteps. And I told you that it wasn’t that bad and that, in some ways, it was helpful.”
“I remember,” she nodded.
“That wasn’t really the truth. At least, not the whole truth.” He looked off into the distance and was silent for a time.
“The truth is,” he said, turning back to her, “it was never easy. You can’t begin to imagine how big a star he is. Or was. The greatest football player ever. The greatest lawyer ever. The greatest judge ever. I mean, I was always proud of him and proud to be his son.” He sighed. “But I could just never be him, you know what I mean? I was a good football player, but I’d never be ‘Fast Willie.’ I knew it and everybody in the stadium knew it. And I was a pretty good lawyer, but whenever I walked into a courtroom I was always ‘Justice Trannon’s son.’ I tried to fight it—to make a name for myself. I stayed here at Ole Miss to play football and to go to law school, and I did pretty well. Then I became a prosecutor, and a good one, too. But finally,” he said, his voice etched in deep sadness, “I realized that things were never going to change. That no matter what I ever did, I was always going to be ‘William Trannon’s son.’” His voice trailed off.
“I still think he’d be proud of you,” Ella said. “From what I’ve learned, his life was all about justice. And that’s what this is all about, too.” She placed her hand over his. “He’d be proud that you are his son.”
“Maybe,” he said wistfully. “I guess I’ll never know.”