The Lawyer's Lawyer

CHAPTER Thirty-Four



On the day scheduled for his execution, Thomas Felton was moved from his cell on death row to the death cell near the execution chamber. Jack stayed with him all day. They had still not heard from the supreme court, and Jack tried to keep his client optimistic. The argument had gone very well, but Jack had had better clients and stronger arguments in the past and still lost, a fact he did not share with Felton, who was extremely nervous.

It was four o’clock. The execution was scheduled for six. Jack knew they would hear something before then. He just didn’t know when or what the verdict would be. Why do they always wait until the last minute? he asked himself. On the other hand, maybe it was good to give people hope right up to the final hour.

Felton had been given the option of receiving a generic form of Valium, diazepam, which he had accepted, but it had not yet arrived. His last meal was due any moment as well. He was jumpy as all get-out, and angry.

“I’m gonna die because of the testimony of one stupid police officer. I can’t believe it.”

His analysis was off base but Jack wasn’t going to correct him. His job was to keep Felton calm and hopeful.

“The judges have all the information. It’s not over yet, Tom.”

His meal finally arrived: a strip steak with mashed potatoes, green beans, and biscuits. Felton inhaled everything, his anxiety consuming him. Jack thought of an evening many, many years ago. He was a young boy waiting for dinner and he was famished. When his mother set his supper on the table, he wolfed it down.

“You ate that like it was your last meal,” his father had said to him in a disapproving manner. Now, after all these years, he knew literally what his father had been talking about.

Thankfully, a guard came with the sedative as soon as Felton finished his supper. Then he was off for his last shower, leaving Jack alone in the cell. Jack knew what was coming next. A preacher would come in and talk to Tom. Then the warden would read the death warrant. Jack would have to leave after that as final preparations for the execution began.

Why do I put myself through this? he asked himself.

Felton came back from the shower dressed in a white shirt and prison pants. All clean and dressed in white, Jack thought. Purified for the slaughter. Does that somehow relieve our collective conscience?

The preacher came in to speak with the prisoner and Jack got up to leave.

“I’ll be right outside the door, Tom,” he said to Felton, whose demeanor had changed dramatically. He was totally subdued now and a look of resignation had settled on his face.

“Don’t, Jack. Don’t come back. Go now. I don’t want to talk anymore.” Felton hugged him. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Nobody could have done more.”

The warden offered his office for Jack to sit and wait and Jack accepted. I’m not going out with the anti–death penalty protesters this time, he told himself. At every execution, a group of protesters gathered outside the prison gates until the execution was postponed or the inmate was executed. They carried placards and sang hymns. In the past, Jack had joined them. He just wasn’t up to it this time and he didn’t know why.

He was sitting in the warden’s office at ten minutes to six, imagining Tom being strapped onto the gurney and the medical team putting the heart monitors and the IVs in place, when the warden burst in.

“I just got the call. The supreme court granted your motion for a new trial.”



Jack accompanied the warden back to the death cell where Tom Felton was waiting. The man was in shock. He was still a little subdued from the diazepam, but he was aware enough to know that he had been minutes away from death, strapped to a gurney with IVs in his arms and heart monitors on his chest when everything stopped. Nobody had told him anything yet.

The warden let Jack in and closed the cell door behind him.

“Let me know when you’re ready and we’ll move him back to his cell,” the warden told Jack.

Jack sat in the death cell with his client for a minute or two before either of them spoke. Tom was sitting on the bed, his head down, his hands holding onto the cot for dear life.

“They should have finished it,” he said finally. “I was ready. I won’t be able to do this again. I’ll have to find a way to kill myself.”

“You won’t have to do it again,” Jack said.

Tom looked up, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The supreme court granted you a new trial.”

“So that’s what this was about. Why didn’t anybody tell me?”

“I guess they figured you should hear it from me. You probably have a lot of questions, and it wouldn’t be appropriate for the warden or the guards to try and answer them.”

“I see. We never did talk about what would happen if I got a new trial.”

Felton still seemed a little wary, as if he didn’t or couldn’t believe what was happening.

“No, we didn’t. I don’t think the State can retry you. They just don’t have any evidence.”

“You mean they’re going to set me free.”

“They could. I don’t know. They could hold you on a different crime.”

“They’ve never charged me with anything else, have they?”

“No. The guards are going to take you back to your cell. I’ll check with the State, but I believe we’ll know something within a few weeks.”

“That long?”

“Maybe not. I can’t say at this point. I hoped you’d be a little happier.”

“I’m sorry, Jack. I’m still a little dopey from the drug, and I think I’m in shock as well. Thank you.”

“No problem. I’ll walk you back to your cell.”

Jack went to the door and signaled for the guards.