Executioner's Song, The - Norman Mailer [408]
Nonetheless, Earl's initial reaction was not one of great alarm. Dabney couldn't show that any Federal tax monies at all were being spent on the execution. The whole thing had the dank smell of a last-ditch attempt.
When Dorius and Bill Barrett walked into the lobby of the Newhouse Hotel Jinks Dabney was already there with his co-counsel, Judith Wolbach. Bob Hansen was present, and Bill Evans, and Dave Schwendiman, plus the bellcap. That was it. They sat around in the nineteenth-century decor of the Newhouse's lobby, real elegant Wild West. Halfway between a palace and a brothel. There was overstuffed furniture in bright red velvet, and red rugs and a double white stairway that fanned out in two half circles before coming together at the mezzanine level, a large and formal room, a little shabby now, but the hotel was famous for being the lair of Judge Ritter. After a couple of hours, however, it was no great place to wait.
Ritter was up in his room and he must have known the ACLU and the Attorney General were downstairs, but no further word was coming. Bob Hansen, thinking what to do if Ritter gave the Stay, called Judge Lewis. As a member of the Tenth Circuit Court, he would be a tier above Ritter, and could override him. Hansen asked if the Judge would convene a special hearing later that evening in Salt Lake.
Judge Lewis, however, said he would not hold such a hearing by himself. It was too great a responsibility for one Federal Judge to overrule another, especially when you were sending a man to death by such a decision.
By nine o'clock, Dabney got up his nerve, and told the desk clerk to inform Judge Ritter once more that they were there, and he was sending his legal documents upstairs. In less time than Dabney expected, Judge Ritter telephoned down that everyone was to go across the street to the courtroom. A security guard would let them in.
There was nothing rousing in the way Dabney gave Hansen this news. Originally from Virginia, his name was V. (for Virginius) Jinks Dabney, a bland-looking fellow with horn-rimmed glasses, who wore seersuckers in summer and tweed jackets in winter. He had a perky, remote way of speaking as if he might know you for ten years but that was no reason to raise his voice. It was obvious he downplayed drama. Did it so well, he could make his lack of it dramatic. All the same, when Earl heard the news, he had a dramatic reaction-a sure feeling the case was lost. He had honestly supposed Judge Ritter wouldn't even consider it. The legal arguments were so thin, and the thing had been submitted so late. Then his gloom increased with the knowledge that Bob Hansen wouldn't even be with them. Thought it would literally hurt their chances if his face was seen in Court. So, Bob left. He was going to get some sleep. That depressed Earl further. Bob sounded like he expected to be needing that sleep later!
It was spooky going down the halls of the courthouse in the dark, with just a few maintenance lights on, but by the time the lawyers had settled at their tables, a number of crime reporters started filtering in. Everybody was beginning to feel more serious by the moment. Then began a long wait for Ritter.
At the table for the Assistant Attorney Generals, which in this case was the defendant's table, Earl sat watching Jinks Dabney and Judith Wolbach on the plaintiff's side. Earl was trying to quiet his temper, and reminded himself of the time he had failed to cross-examine Schiller properly. No matter, he was furious. It was outright unfair of the ACLU, he felt, to wait until now to go to Court. He didn't mind that their case was weak. It was ethical to bring in anything that was remotely plausible. You could try, even if 99 percent of the facts and the law were against you, but it was unfair