“ALL RIGHT NOW, Ben, we tried your plan, and you might say it didn’t work out so well. So now we’re going to try my plan.”
Jonah was not in the mood to butter me up.
“You know those photographs would have worked,” I said bitterly. “All right, all right, tell me your plan.”
“Well, it’s not quite as audacious as yours. Matter of fact, it’s very logical, very well thought out.”
“Damn it, just tell us,” L.J. said.
“Tomorrow,” Jonah said, “I want Ben to give the summation to the jury.”
L.J. didn’t hesitate a beat before answering, “That is a fine idea.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said. “I was there on the night of the murders. I’m a witness but you’ve chosen not to put me on the stand. You’re the one who’s been telling them the story of these crimes all along. Why change now?”
“You know why,” said L.J.
“Because I’m white?” I said. “That’s no reason!”
“It never hurts,” Jonah said with a faint smile. “Look, you come from here,” he explained. “You know these people. The judge is your father. These jurors will trust you more than they will me. And not because you’re white—because you were there. You can give a summation that comes from your heart. For God’s sake, you’ve been lynched yourself. You have to tell them a story, Ben. They need to hear it from you.”
I dreaded the truth in what he was saying. The next thing he said cinched it for me:
“I tried the case. I fought the case. I pled the case. But all along, even before I got here, it was always your case, Ben.”