Native Son - Richard Wright [195]
“Court will adjourn for one hour.”
Max was on his feet.
“Your Honor, you cannot do this…. Is it your intention…. More time is needed…. You….”
“The Court will give its decision then,” the judge said.
There were shouts. Bigger saw Max’s lips moving, but he could not make out what he was saying. Slowly, the room quieted. Bigger saw that the expressions on the faces of the men and women were different now. He felt that the thing had been decided. He knew that he was to die.
“Your Honor,” Max said, his voice breaking from an intensity of emotion. “It seems that for careful consideration of the evidence and discussion submitted, more time is….”
“The Court reserves the right to determine how much time is needed, Mr. Max,” the judge said.
Bigger knew that he was lost. It was but a matter of time, of formality.
He did not know how he got back into the little room; but when he was brought in he saw the tray of food still there, uneaten. He sat down and looked at the six policemen who stood silently by. Guns hung from their hips. Ought he to try to snatch one and shoot himself? But he did not have enough spirit to respond positively to the idea of self-destruction. He was paralyzed with dread.
Max came in, sat, and lit a cigarette.
“Well, son. We’ll have to wait. We’ve got an hour.”
There was a banging on the door.
“Don’t let any of those reporters in here,” Max told a policeman.
“O.K.”
Minutes passed. Bigger’s head began to ache with the suspense of it. He knew that Max had nothing to say to him and he had nothing to say to Max. He had to wait; that was all; wait for something he knew was coming. His throat tightened. He felt cheated. Why did they have to have a trial if it had to end this way?
“Well, I reckon it’s all over for me now,” Bigger sighed, speaking as much for himself as for Max.
“I don’t know,” Max said.
“I know,” Bigger said.
“Well, let’s wait.”
“He’s making up his mind too quick. I know I’m going to die.”
“I’m sorry, Bigger. Listen, why don’t you eat?”
“I ain’t hungry.”
“This thing isn’t over yet. I can ask the Governor….”
“It ain’t no use. They got me.”
“You don’t know.”
“I know.”
Max said nothing. Bigger leaned his head upon the table and closed his eyes. He wished Max would leave him now. Max had done all he could. He should go home and forget him.
The door opened.
“The judge’ll be ready in five minutes!”
Max stood up. Bigger looked at his tired face.
“All right, son. Come on.”
Walking between policemen, Bigger followed Max back into the court room. He did not have time to sit down before the judge came. He remained standing until the judge was seated, then he slid weakly into his chair. Max rose to speak, but the judge lifted his hand for silence.
“Will Bigger Thomas rise and face the Court?”
The room was full of noise and the judge rapped for quiet. With trembling legs, Bigger rose, feeling in the grip of a nightmare.
“Is there any statement you wish to make before sentence is passed upon you?”
He tried to open his mouth to answer, but could not. Even if he had had the power of speech, he did not know what he could have said. He shook his head, his eyes blurring. The court room was profoundly quiet now. The judge wet his lips with his tongue and lifted a piece of paper that crackled loudly in the silence.
“In view of the unprecedented disturbance of the public mind, the duty of this Court is clear,” the judge said and paused.
Bigger groped for the edge of the table with his hand and clung to it.
“In Number 666–983, indictment for murder, the sentence of the Court is that you, Bigger Thomas, shall die on or before midnight of Friday, March third, in a manner prescribed by the laws of this State.
“This Court finds your age to be twenty.
“The Sheriff may retire with the prisoner.”
Bigger understood every word; and he seemed not to react