“Yes, ma’am, that’s what I was told. On account of being shocked.”
“In shock?” Sam clarified.
The girl nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re not currently on or have not taken any illegal drugs?”
“Illegal drugs?” the girl asked. “No, ma’am. That wouldn’t be right.”
Again, Sam copied her words. “And how are you feeling now?”
“Okay, I guess. Not so poorly as before.”
Sam looked at Kelly Wilson over the top of her reading glasses. The girl’s hands were still clasped under the table, shoulders rolled in, making her look even smaller. Sam could see the red of the plastic chair peeking out on either side of the girl’s back. “Are you okay, or are you okay, you guess?”
Kelly said, “I’m pretty scared. There’s some mean people here.”
“Your best strategy is to ignore them.” Sam jotted down some general notes about Kelly’s appearance, that she looked unwashed, unkempt. Her fingernails were chewed down. Her cuticles showed dried blood. “How’s your stomach now?”
“It’s just a little upset this time of day.”
“‘This time of day.’” Sam made a notation and wrote down the time. “Were you sick yesterday?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I didn’t tell nobody. When I get like that, it usually calms down on its own, but that lady out there was nice and give me some crackers.”
Sam kept her gaze on her notepad. She did not want to look at Kelly because she felt an unwelcoming softening each time she did. The girl did not fit the image of a murderer, let alone a school shooter. Then again, perhaps Sam’s past experiences with Zachariah and Daniel Culpepper had framed the wrong image in her mind. The fact was that anybody could kill.
She told Kelly, “I’m working with my father, Rusty Quinn, until he’s feeling better. Did someone tell you that he’s in the hospital?”
“Yes, ma’am. Them guards back at the jail were talking about it. How Mr. Rusty got stabbed.”
Sam doubted the guards had anything good to say about Rusty. “So, did Mr. Rusty tell you that he works for you, not your parents? And that anything you say to him is private?”
“It’s the law,” she said. “Mr. Rusty can’t tell nobody what I say.”
“That’s correct,” Sam said. “And it’s the same with me. We both took an oath of confidentiality. You can talk to me, and I can talk to Mr. Rusty about the things you tell me, but we can’t tell anyone else your secrets.”
“Is that hard, knowing everybody’s secrets like that?”
Sam felt disarmed by the question. “It can be, but that’s part of my job requirement, and I knew that I would have to keep secrets when I decided to become a lawyer.”
“You gotta go to school for a lotta years to do that.”
“I did.” Sam looked at her phone. She normally charged by the hour; she was not accustomed to abbreviating her time. “Did Mr. Rusty explain to you what an arraignment is?”
“It ain’t a trial.”
“That’s right.” Sam realized that she was modulating her voice as if she was addressing a child. This girl was eighteen, not eight.
Lucy Alexander had been eight years old.
Sam cleared her throat.
She explained, “In most cases, the law requires an arraignment to take place within forty-eight hours of an arrest. Basically, this is when a case goes from being an investigation to a criminal case in court. There is a formal reading of a criminal charge or indictment in the presence of the defendant to inform the defendant, you, of the pending charges that have been filed against you, and afford you the opportunity to enter an initial plea into the record. I know that sounds like a lot, but soup-to-nuts, the entire process should take less than ten minutes.”
Kelly blinked.
“Do you understand what I just told you?”
“You talk really fast.”
Sam had worked hundreds of hours to normalize her speech, and now she had to concentrate in order to slow it down. She tried, “During the arraignment, there won’t be any police officers or witnesses called. Okay?”
Kelly nodded.
“No evidence will be presented. Your guilt or innocence will not be assessed or determined.”
Kelly waited.
“The judge will ask for your plea to be entered into the record. I will tell him your plea, which is not guilty. You can amend that later if you so desire.” Sam paused. She had started to rev up again. “Then the judge, the prosecutor and I will discuss dates and motions and other business of the court. I will request those matters be taken up when my father, Mr. Rusty, has recovered, which will likely be within the next week. You need not speak during any part of this process. I will speak for you. Do you understand?”
Kelly said, “Your daddy told me not to talk to nobody, and I ain’t. Not unless it was the guards and telling them I was feeling sick.” Her shoulders rolled farther inward. “They was nice though, like I said. Everybody’s been treating me real nice here.”
“Except for some of the mean ones?”
“Yes, ma’am, there’s been some mean ones.”
Sam looked down at her notes. Rusty had been right. Kelly was too agreeable. She did not seem to understand the depth of trouble that she was in. The girl would have to be evaluated for mental competency. Sam was certain she could locate someone in New York who was willing to work pro bono.
“Miss Quinn?” Kelly asked. “Can I ask, do my mama and daddy know I’m in here?”
“Yes.” Sam realized Kelly had been left in the dark for the last twenty-four hours. “Your parents weren’t allowed to visit you in the jail until after the arraignment, but they are both very eager to see you.”
“Are they mad about what happened?”
“They’re worried about you.” Sam could only go on assumptions. “They love you very much, though. You’ll all get through this together. No matter what.”
Kelly’s lip quivered. Tears fell from her eyes. “I love them, too.”
Sam sat back in her chair. She reminded herself of Douglas Pinkman, the way he had cheered for her at every track meet, even after she had moved up to high school. The man had been to more of Sam’s events than her own father.
And now Sam was sitting across from the girl who had murdered him.
She told Kelly, “Your parents will be in the courtroom upstairs, but you aren’t going to be able to touch them or talk to them other than to say hello.” Sam hoped there were no cameras in the courtroom. She would have to make sure Kelly’s parents were forewarned. “Once you’re transferred back to the jail, you’ll be able to visit with them, but remember anything you say to your parents, or anyone else, while you are in jail will be recorded. Whether it’s in the visitation room or on the telephone, someone is always listening. Don’t talk to them about what happened yesterday. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am, but can I ask, am I in trouble?”
Sam studied her face for signs of guile. “Kelly, do you remember what happened yesterday morning?”
“Yes, ma’am. I killed them two people. The gun was in my hand.”
Sam considered her affect, looking for signs of remorse.
There was none.
Kelly might as well have been describing events that had happened to someone else.
“Why did …” Sam thought about how to pose the question. “Did you know Lucy Alexander?”
“No, ma’am. I think she must’a been at the elementary school, ’cause she looked real little.”
Sam opened her mouth and drew in some air. “How about Mr. Pinkman?”
“Well, I heard people say he wasn’t a bad man, but I never got sent to the principal’s office.”
The randomness of the victims somehow made it worse. “So they both, Mr. Pinkman and Lucy Alexander, just happened to be in the hallway at the wrong time?”
“I guess,” Kelly answered. “Like I said, the gun was in my hand, and then Mr. Huckabee put it down his pants.?
?
Sam felt her heart shake inside of her chest. She looked at the timer on her phone. She made sure there was no shadow lingering at the door. She asked Kelly, “Did you tell my father what you just told me?”
“No, ma’am. I didn’t say much to your daddy yesterday. I was upset ’cause they had me at the hospital, and plus my tummy was hurting like it does, and they were talking about keeping me overnight and I know that costs a lot of money to be there.”
Sam closed her notepad. She capped her pen. She exchanged her readers for her regular glasses.
She was in a somewhat unique situation. A defense lawyer was not allowed to put a witness on the stand knowing that the witness was going to lie. This rule explained why attorneys never wanted their clients to tell them the whole truth. The whole truth seldom made for a good defense. Everything Kelly told Sam would be held in confidence, but Sam would never call or cross-examine a witness, so she would not have her hands tied. She could simply edit out the damaging facts when she relayed this conversation to Rusty and let him take care of the rest.
Kelly said, “My Uncle Shane passed in the hospital and his wife and them had to move out of their house ’cause the bills were too much.”
“They won’t charge you for the hospital stay.”
She smiled. Her teeth were tiny white beads. “Do my parents know that? Because I think that’ll come as a relief.”
“I’ll make sure they know.”
“Thank you, Miss Quinn. I sure do appreciate all you and your daddy done for me.”
Sam rolled the pen between her fingers. She remembered something from the news last night. “Do you know if the middle school has security cameras?”
“Yes, ma’am. They got one in each of the halls, except the one by the front office got hit and it don’t get hardly anything past a certain point.”
“It has a blind spot?”
“I don’t know that it’s got that, but it can’t see everything past somewhere about the middle of the hall.”