“And what is your occupation, Mr. Lindsey?”
“I’m an environmental engineer.”
“What’s your educational background?”
“I got my bachelor’s degree at Tuskegee University. Then studied engineering at University of Alabama.”
I didn’t betray any reaction when the witness revealed he’d received his degree at the very same HBCU where I’d done my undergraduate studies. I was tempted to gaze at the jury box, see whether any of them were wrestling with the question that had occurred to me. How many of us were wondering why that engineer was testifying for the prosecution in this case?
The DA’s voice oozed courtesy when he spoke to the witness. More courtesy than he’d ever shown to me. “Directing your attention to March 17 of this year, did you have occasion to be in Bullock County, Alabama?”
“I did travel to Bullock County, yes.”
“For what reason?”
“To determine whether raw sewage was contaminating private property and threatening public health.”
I sneaked a look at the defense table. The defense attorney was fidgeting in his chair. I tried to send him a mental message.Get out of that chair! Stand up and fight!
The attorney didn’t pick up my vibes.
Meanwhile, the DA’s direct examination continued. “Where did you go on that date?”
“To a rural property located a mile north of the city limits of Union Springs. The address was 37 Farm Road 164 in Bullock County, Alabama.”
“Did anyone accompany you?”
“A sheriff’s deputy. The sheriff’s department had hired me to make the inspection.”
What the hell?The sheriff had laid out funds from our impoverished county to pay for a private-sector engineer? What was Mick Owens thinking? It took tremendous fortitude to remain in my seat. Had to put my hands in my lap, out of sight. My clenched fists would give me away.
I stared at Chuck Rich again. Saw him sigh as he wrote something on his legal pad.
The DA edged over to the jury box as he asked the next question. “What did you observe on the property at the location, Mr. Lindsey?”
“There was a mobile home on the property, about fifty yards from the road. I observed a long white PVC pipe, running from the trailer to a trench in a pasture behind the home.”
“What, if anything, did you observe in the trench?”
“It was filled with raw sewage from the trailer. The owner of the property was straight-piping his sewage to a hole in the nearby field.”
“Objection, Your Honor!”
Finally.It had taken him long enough. The defense attorney was on his feet. “Grounds?” I said.
The defense attorney, Chuck Rich, was sweating. Perspiration trickled down his face, making dark spots on the collar of his blue shirt. “Judge, they can’t do this. The DOJ put a stop to it when they were prosecuting people in Lowndes County.”
The DA leveled a look at me. “This isn’t Lowndes County. We’re in Bullock County.”
Rich gawked in disbelief before he turned back to me and said, “Judge, what he’s trying to do is outrageous, this is an environmental equity issue!”
Reeves extended an arm to the jury, so they’d know he was addressing them. “I don’t disagree with the last half of that statement. The environmental quality of this county is an important issue. And it’s equitable and fair that we keep people in the county safe. I think that it’s in the interest of every citizen of Bullock County that we eliminate these pools of raw sewage before they make everybody sick. Hope people in this jury haven’t caught anything yet.”
That statement caused an outcry and a flurry of rustling in the jury box, as jurors scooted in their seats to ensure they weren’t in physical contact with anyone else.
A rivulet of sweat rolled down Chuck Rich’s cheek. “Objection, Your Honor! The prosecution hasn’t offered evidence of any disease!”
“Sustained,” I said, adding, “The DA’s statements are out of order. The jury is instructed to disregard his comments.”
