“How come I don’t get a copy?” the defendant asked. “You got a problem with me taking a look at it? This is my trial, ain’t it?”
Ferrell Gray would test the patience of a saint.
And I was no saint.
CHAPTER
6
I fought back the urge to approach the table where the defendant sat. Had the sound judgment to stand back. “Mr. Gray, I suspect you already know what the letter says. You wrote it, didn’t you?”
“Hell yeah,” Gray said, just as his lawyer snapped, “Don’t answer that.”
Bradley, the defense attorney, shook his head with some combination of frustration and disgust. Couldn’t blame the man for that, not in his position. Bradley stood and said, “Judge, in light of this information, it’s obvious that the sentencing can’t proceed.”
“It’s not obvious to me,” I said.
Bradley remained on his feet, but he started to look panicky. “Respectfully, Your Honor, the defense requests that you recuse yourself.”
“Why would I do that?” I reached around and rubbed my lower back. It was still bothering me.
“Because your receipt of the letter—a letter purporting to be from the defendant in this case, though his responsibility for thedocument hasn’t been proven—will make it impossible for you to be fair and impartial.”
I stared the man down for a moment before I asked, “And why do you think I won’t be fair?”
I heard the rattle of chains as the defendant lifted his handcuffed wrists to flip me the bird with both hands. As he tried to stand up—his belly chain appeared to cause some difficulty—he proclaimed, “I want a new judge! I’m a white man. I can’t get any justice from this affirmative action bitch they hired!”
The defendant was unfamiliar with the judicial process. I wasn’t hired. I was elected. In Alabama, circuit judges are elected to six-year terms of office by the registered voters of the counties in their circuit.
As the deputies jumped up to ensure that Gray remained in his seat, the public defender said, “Judge Stone, I apologize for that outburst.”
The outburst wasn’t over, not yet. While the deputies wrestled Gray back into his seat, the defendant continued to utter insults that were, thankfully, mostly incomprehensible. His lawyer appeared to be sincerely distressed.
“It’s not your fault,” I told the public defender. I felt the urge to move, so I stepped closer to the defense counsel table, but took care to keep a safe distance from the criminal defendant when I addressed him. “Mr. Gray, you need to quiet down. You’re not helping your cause.”
That was when the DA decided to weigh in. “Your Honor, the law on this matter—”
I swung around to face him. “You think I’m not acquainted with the law on this issue?”
He blinked, continued in his nasal voice, “I just want to contribute the State’s position—”
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”
The DA was getting under my skin, as he tended to do. It was time to create some distance. I strode back to the bench. Climbing up the three wooden steps that led to my chair was well-timed in this instance. It demonstrated my authority.
As I sat, I said, “Defendant’s motion is overruled.”
Ferrell Gray snatched his attorney’s copy of the letter and flung it to the floor. “The devil gonna burn you alive! You’ll be screaming when your flesh is on fire!”
To the court reporter, I said, “Marlena, did you get all that?”
When she nodded, I said, “I have ruled. The law is on my side. In Alabama, judges are obligated to recuse themselves when they’ve behaved badly. To be clear: That’s when thejudgehas behaved badly.”
“You’re an ugly whore!” Gray shouted. His lawyer grimaced, looking away. He was embarrassed.
I said, “This is just what I’m talking about. See? In this case, the wrongful behavior is all on Mr. Gray’s part. The defendant has behaved badly, but I won’t permit him to use that as a basis to go judge shopping. If you have any dispute on this issue, I recommend that counsel check outex parte Bentley,an Alabama appellate decision that’s on all fours with our situation in court today.”
The DA smirked, looking satisfied. Well, that would be short-lived.
