My dinner companion, Loucilla Payne, scoffed and said, “That’s a shocker.”
She was just trying to devil me. I ignored it and smiled politely at the waitress, as if Loucilla hadn’t spoken a word.
Loucilla crossed her arms and leaned on the table. She gave the young waitress a confiding look over her round-framed eyeglasses. “Save yourself a trip. She’ll want extra red cocktail sauce for her shrimp. And double butter for her corn and potatoes.”
Loucilla held up the bottle of Crystal Hot Sauce they’d set with the salt and pepper shakers. “Can you bring a fresh bottle? This one’s all used up.”
I let the waitress walk away before I said, “Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you can order my food.”
She laughed at me. “We’ve been meeting up twice a month for years. You pick the same restaurant every time. And you always order the same damn thing. You’re entirely predictable.”
It wasn’t surprising that Loucilla Payne could anticipate my selection from the menu at the Oyster House in downtown Montgomery. We went way back. We’d had each other’s back since we were undergrads at Tuskegee University.
And now, thirty years later, Loucilla was a tenured professor of political science at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. I said, “Whatchu got good? Anything happening this week?”
“Mary, please.” She gave me that no-bullshit glare over the glasses. “I lectured about global politics, attended faculty meetings, graded papers. Meanwhile, you wereinthe papers, first with the murder sentencing, then that criminal case against the man piping raw sewage. And then Bullock County topped that, made the national news—never thought I’d see that day. Tell me about it.”
I took a swallow of lemonade. Loucilla had a frosty glass filled with lager beer, which I’d have preferred. But a woman who’s running for reelection as circuit judge has no business trifling with alcohol when getting behind the wheel.
Loucilla was impatient. “Come on! Quit dragging your feet. I want to hear about that thirteen-year-old girl, and the poor doctor they’re determined to crucify.”
I’d tried to avoid the topic all week. But I couldn’t dodge it with Loucilla. She was my confidant, the one person with whom I could unburden myself and be vulnerable.
I dropped my voice. “She’ll be arraigned in circuit court nextweek. It’s on my Tuesday docket. But you know nothing happens at arraignment. I just read the charge to her. Her lawyer will enter a plea of not guilty and that’s it. Simple. Nothing much to it. So maybe we won’t attract too much media attention.”
“You kidding me?Really?It’s the biggest case in the country. Media’s going to be on it like flies on shit. And you’re right in the middle of the controversy. You watch your back, Mary.”
“I think you’re being dramatic.”
When she rolled her eyes, I doubled down, saying, “I know it’s a high-profile case, no question about that. But you’re exaggerating my importance. The case isn’t about me. I’m just the judge. The arbiter up behind the bench. Nobody pays attention to the judge in these sensational cases.”
Loucilla gave me a dark look. Shaking her head at me, she said, “Are you just lying to me? Or actually deceiving yourself, too? You can’t honestly believe what you’re saying here. Remember that judge in Las Vegas who got knocked flat when a defendant leaped over the bench like Superman?”
I did remember that. At the time, I had to make myself stop playing that clip over and over on social media. But Union Springs wasn’t Vegas. “The defendant in this case will not fly over the bench to attack me. I guarantee it.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about.” She was getting worked up, starting to raise her voice. “It’s a miracle you haven’t been assaulted already, the way you sashay around the courtroom in that black robe. Like a bullfighter waving a red cape.”
“Oh, stop. And for God’s sake, lower your voice. You’ll get us thrown out.”
“You stop. I’m serious.” She was giving me a searching look. “There’s a lot of talk on campus. They’re already organizing. Studentsare planning to head to Bullock County when it goes to court, to protest.”
I tried to envision it. Protesters on both sides of the issue, clashing in the street in front of the courthouse. The sheriff might want to get involved, and the result could get ugly.
I reached for her beer and took a sip from the bottle. When she saw me steal a swallow, Loucilla squawked. “Get your own bottle! You’re a grown woman, why you always do that?”
I didn’t try to explain my actions. Loucilla knew I grew up with two little sisters. I didn’t get to have a Coke all to myself until I went away to college. “It will be a long time before the case goes to trial. College students will have a new cause célèbre by then.”
“You can’t seriously believe that.”
I didn’t, not really. But I wasn’t disposed to admit it, even to my best friend.
I said, “Well. If people want to voice their opinions on the public sidewalk, that’s their right.” The waitress walked up, bearing a tray. My dinner was a steaming dish of shrimp and Andouille smoked pork sausage with red potatoes and corn on the cob. I was glad to see generous helpings of butter and red sauce. And the waitress set a brand-new bottle of hot sauce on the table.
Loucilla cut into her steak but wouldn’t back off. “What you’re going to face won’t be a friendly debate, a simple difference of opinion. People are not going to be civil, Mary. Is the county prepared? You need security.”
“Loucilla, it’s a courthouse. I have a bailiff. We’re protected by the sheriff’s department.”
She snorted at that. “Jesus, Mary. Anybody can bypass security at the Bullock County Courthouse, it’s so full of holes. Theybarely monitor the metal detector at the front door. And the back door—they still keeping it propped open?”
