Pirtle, in the front seat, pointed to Hastings, the driver. "That's him."

"Are you Carl Lee Hailey?" a reporter screamed at Hastings.

"Yep."

"Why are you driving?"

"What's with the uniform?"

"They made me a deputy," answered Hastings with a straight face. The gate opened, and the two cars sped through.

Carl Lee was processed in the main building and led, along with Ozzie and the deputies, to another building where he was checked into his cell, or room, as it was called. The door was locked behind him. Ozzie and his men were excused and returned to Clanton.

After lunch, an assistant of some sort with a clipboard and white jacket arrived and began asking questions. Starting with birth, he asked Carl Lee about every significant event and person in his life. It lasted two hours. At 4:00 P.M., two security guards handcuffed Carl Lee and rode him in a golf cart to a modern brick building a half mile from his room. He was led to the office of Dr. Wilbert Rodeheaver, head of staff. The guards waited in the hall by the door.

It had been five weeks since the shootings of Billy Ray Cobb and Pete Willard. The trial was four weeks away. The three motels in Clanton were booked solid for the week of the trial and, the week before. The Best Western was the largest and nicest, and had attracted the Memphis and Jackson press. The Clanton Court had the best bar and restaurant, and was booked by reporters from Atlanta, Washington, and New York. At the less than elegant East Side Motel the rates had curiously doubled for the month of July but it had nonetheless sold out.

The town had been friendly at first to these outsiders, most of whom were rude and spoke with different accents. But some of the descriptions of Clanton and its people had been less than flattering, and most of the locals now honored a secret code of silence. A noisy cafe would become instantly silent when a stranger walked in and took a seat. Merchants around the square offered little assistance to anyone they did not recognize. The employees in the courthouse had become deaf to questions asked a thousand times by nosy intruders. Even the Memphis and Jackson reporters had to struggle to extract anything new from the locals. The people were tired of being described as backward, redneck, and racist. They ignored the outsiders whom they could not trust and went about their business.

The bar at the Clanton Court became the watering hole for the reporters. It was the one place in town they could go to find a friendly face and good conversation. They sat in the booths under the big-screen TV and gossiped about the small town and the upcoming trial. They compared notes and stories and leads and rumors, and drank until they were drunk because there was nothing else to do in Clanton after dark.

The motels filled Sunday night, June 23, the night before the venue hearing. Early Monday morning they gathered in the restaurant at the Best Western to drink coffee and speculate. The hearing was the first major skirmish, and

could likely be the only courtroom action until the trial. A rumor surfaced that Noose was ill and did not want to hear the case, and that he would ask the Supreme Court to appoint another judge. Just a rumor, with no source and nothing more definite, said a reporter from Jackson. At eight they packed their cameras and microphones and left for the square. One group set up outside the jail, another at the rear of the courthouse, but most headed for the courtroom. By eight-thirty it was filled.

From the balcony of his office, Jake watched the activity around the courthouse. His heart beat faster than normal, and his stomach tingled. He smiled. He was ready for Buck-ley, ready for the cameras.

Noose looked down past the end of his nose, over his reading glasses, and around the packed courtroom. Everyone was in place.

"The court has before it," he began, "the defendant's motion for a change of venue. The trial in this matter has been set for Monday, July 22. That's four weeks from today, according to my calendar I have set a deadline for filing motions and disposing of same, and I believe those are the only two deadlines between now and trial."

"That's correct, Your Honor," thundered Buckley, half standing behind his table. Jake rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Thank you, Mr. Buckley," Noose said dryly. "The defendant has filed the proper notice that he intends to use an insanity defense. Has he been examined at Whitfield?"

"Yes sir, Your Honor, last week," Jake answered.

"Will he employ his own psychiatrist?"

"Of course, Your Honor."

"Has he been examined by his own?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. So that's out of the way. What other motions do you anticipate filing?"

"Your Honor, we expect to file a motion requesting the clerk to summons more than the usual number of prospective jurors-"

"The state will oppose that motion," Buckley yelled as he jumped to his feet.

"Sit down, Mr. Buckley!" Noose said sternly, ripping off his glasses and glaring at the D.A. "Please don't yell at me again. Of course you will oppose it. You will oppose any motion filed by the defense. That's your job. Don't interrupt again. You'll have ample opportunity after we adjourn to perform for the media."

Buckley slumped in his chair and hid his red face. Noose had never screamed at him before.

"Continue, Mr. Brigance."

Jake was startled by Ichabod's meanness. He looked tired and ill. Perhaps it was the pressure.

"We may have some written objections to anticipated evidence."

"Motions in limineT'

"Yes, sir."

"We'll hear those at trial. Anything else?"

"Not at this time."

"Now, Mr. Buckley, will the State file any motions?"

"I can't think of any," Buckley answered meekly.

"Good. I want to make sure there are no surprises between now and trial. I will be here one week before trial to hear and decide any pretrial matters. I expect any motions to be filed promptly, so that we can tie up any loose ends well before the twenty-second."

Noose flipped through his file and studied Jake's motion for a change of venue. Jake whispered to Carl Lee, whose presence was not required for the hearing, but he insisted. Gwen and the three boys sat in the first row behind their daddy. Tonya was not in the courtroom.

"Mr. Brigance, your motion appears to be in order. How many witnesses?"

"Three, Your Honor."

"Mr. Buckley, how many will you call?"

"We have twenty-one," Buckley said proudly.

"Twenty-one!" yelled the judge.

Buckley cowered and glanced at Musgrove. "B-but, we probably won't need them all. In fact, I know we won't call all of them."

"Pick your best five, Mr. Buckley. I don't plan to be here all day."

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Mr. Brigance, you've asked for a change of venue. It's your motion. You may proceed."

Jake stood and walked slowly across the courtroom, behind Buckley, to the wooden podium in front of the jury box. "May it please the court, Your Honor, Mr. Hailey has requested that his trial be moved from Ford County. The reason is obvious: the publicity in this case will prevent a fair trial. The good people of this county have prejudged the guilt or innocence of Carl Lee Hailey. He is charged with killing two men, both of whom were born here and left families here. Their lives were not famous, but their deaths certainly have been. Mr. Hailey was known by few outside his community until now. Now everyone in this county knows who he is, knows about his family and his daughter and what happened to her, and knows most of the details of his alleged crimes. It will be impossible to find twelve people in Ford County who have not already prejudged this case. This trial should be held in another part of the state where the people are not so familiar with the facts."

"Where would you suggest?" interrupted the judge.

"I wouldn't recommend a specific county, but it should be as far away as possible. Perhaps the Gulf Coast."

"Why?"

"Obvious reasons, Your Honor. It's four hundred miles away, and I'm sure the people down there do not know as much as the people around here."

"And you think the people in south Mississippi haven't heard about it?"

"I'm sure they have. But they are much further away."

"But they have televisions and newspapers, don't they, Mr. Brigance?"

"I'm sure they do."

"Do you believe you could go to any county in this state and find twelve people who haven't heard the details of this case?"

Jake looked at his legal pad. He could hear the artists sketching on their pads behind him. He could see Buckley

grinning out ot the corner of his eye. "It would be difficult," he said quietly.

"Call your first witness."

Harry Rex Vonner was sworn in and took his seat on the witness stand. The wooden swivel chair popped and creaked under the heavy load. He blew into the microphone and a loud hiss echoed around the courtroom. He smiled at Jake and nodded.

"Would you state your name?"

"Harry Rex Vonner."

"And your address?"

"Eighty-four ninety-three Cedarbrush, Clanton, Mississippi."

"How long have you lived in Clanton?"

"All my life. Forty-six years."

"Your occupation?"

"I'm a lawyer. I've had my license for twenty-two years."

"Have you ever met Carl Lee Hailey?"

"Once."

"What do you know about him?"

"He supposedly shot two men, Billy Ray Cobb and Pete Willard, and he wounded a deputy, DeWayne Looney."

"Did you Know either of those boys?"

"Not personally. I knew of Billy Ray Cobb."

"How did you learn of the shootings?"

"Well, it happened on a Monday, I believe. I was in the courthouse, on the first floor, checking title on some land in the clerk's office, when I heard the gunshots. I ran out into the hall and bedlam had broken loose. I asked a deputy and he told me that the boys had been killed near the back door of the courthouse. I hung around here for a while, and pretty soon there was a rumor that the killer was the father of the little girl who got raped."

"What was your initial reaction?"