Chapter Forty-Two

The Pretrial Conference

Bill

During the pretrial proceedings, Dean Baldwin gave Palmer the names and addresses of all the relevant lay and expert witnesses who’d be making statements at the trial. Andrew, Danielle, and I were on that list. Palmer also provided his list of witnesses. Baldwin then presented a list of the physical evidence and exhibits to be introduced.

In addition, Baldwin added a new charge of complicity to commit arson to the list of Jackson’s crimes. Sean and Joel must’ve found direct evidence linking Jackson to the burning of my orange grove on the night of the murders. Palmer tried to get the charge dismissed, but the presiding judge refused.

After both Baldwin and Palmer presented their requirements, the judge informed the courtroom he was setting the trial date as timely as possible because of the age of Claude Jordan. Thus, both the prosecution and the defense would have to work diligently to prepare their cases. The trial would begin on July 16.

Preceding us from the courthouse was Craig Jordan, his mother, his sister, and another young woman who had her arm locked in Craig’s elbow. At the bottom of the stairs, they met another young man who was holding a little, blonde child in his arms. Three young boys stood nearby. As our group passed them, Craig Jordan turned to me and nodded. I returned the nod.

Walking toward our vehicles, Frankie asked, “Grandpa, who are those people?”

“The one man is Clay Jackson’s son. The older woman is Jackson’s wife, and the younger woman is his daughter. I’m assuming the young woman with her arm in Craig Jordan’s is his wife. I’m not sure who the people are at the bottom of the stairs.”

“I saw you nod to him. Do you know him?”

“Your dad and I met him outside the county jail. He wanted to talk to me.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to apologize for what his father had done.”

“Wow! Does that mean he thinks his father really killed your family and my grandpa?”

“Yes. He thought his father was capable of those crimes. According to him, his father is a violent man. Craig had a very abusive childhood.”

“That’s really weird! His own son thinks he’s guilty!”

At dinner that evening Danielle asked me, “Sir, I know this has been an emotional time for you. Probably most of your speculations are about Clay Jackson and what will become of him. But I noticed you looking at his family. How do you feel about them?”

“It’s a conundrum, Danielle. On the one hand I despise everything remotely connected with Jackson. Yet I know his family is not him. Even though at times I look at them in disgust, knowing that despicable being is their father, their husband, their grandfather, who am I to judge them? I don’t know what their lives were like. I don’t know what pain and agony they’ve endured. When your dad and I met Jackson’s son a few weeks ago, he informed us of his terrible childhood and of his mother being terrified in her marriage. So I’m tormented. Then as we were exiting the courthouse, and I saw that beautiful little child in the arms of, I assume, her father, how could I have any hatred for her? She is as innocent as my children were. She, like them, doesn’t deserve any ill will from anyone, especially me, because of her grandfather. I can’t feel hatred for Jackson’s family as he did mine.”

Frankie once again surprised me with his astuteness. “They’re your real family, aren’t they? That Craig Jordan is your real nephew and his sister is your real niece. You do still have a family.”

“Frankie, you and your family are my real family. Yes, they are blood related to me, but that doesn’t make them my family. I don’t know them.”

“Do you want to know them?”

“I don’t know.”

That evening when Joel joined us, he said Jackson was complaining of chest pains. They called in a cardiologist to examine him.

That son of a bitch better not die on me.