“What’s going on?” she whispered into his ear.
He turned to her and cupped his mouth around her ear.
“We can’t find him,” he said over the courtroom din.
“Oh my God,” she said out loud. Hoffman shushed her, turned back to the table as the court officer came in once again from the judge’s chambers. He bent down into a huddle at the defense table, his face darkening. Collier and Sparks, watching from the other table, suddenly stood and walked over to the group. Taylor watched as Jane Sparks brought her hand to her mouth in shock. Collier turned and walked away from the group.
The court officer backed away, pulled a Handie-Talkie from his belt, and spoke into it. A second court officer stepped over from the other side of the room and whispered something to the first officer, then turned and disappeared.
By now, the noise in the courtroom was rising as the press and spectators got wind of what was going on. People pushed and shoved, voices were raised. The court officer motioned for people to quiet down. The radio on his belt crackled loudly, and he held it to his ear for a moment, then spoke into it. A second later, he turned and strode quickly through the doors into the judge’s chambers.
Taylor stood at the rail, staring. Talmadge turned to her, his eyes dark and serious, and shrugged his shoulders.
Moments later, the court officer reentered, his voice loud:
“All rise!” he began.
Judge Forsythe came in behind him, his robes in a flurry, and immediately took his seat and began banging his gavel before the officer could even finish his spiel.
“Be seated!” he yelled. “Everyone take a seat, or I’m going to have this courtroom cleared immediately! Those of you in the back, stand against the wall and be silent. This is my last warning. I will have this courtroom cleared.”
It took a few seconds, but order was quickly restored. Forsythe looked out over the bench and glared at the defense table.
“Counselor, produce your client,” he ordered.
Talmadge stood quickly. “Your Honor,” he said, his voice breaking. Taylor had never heard him sound like he was losing it before. “Your Honor, I-I can’t. He was here a few minutes ago. He was in the bathroom. I-”
“Mr. Talmadge, I just gave you a direct order to produce your client. I’m going to hold you in contempt if he’s not delivered to this court immediately.”
“Y-Your Honor,” Talmadge stammered. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make somebody just appear if they’re not here.”
Forsythe turned to one of his court officers. “I want this building locked down immediately. Search the entire courthouse. Find him.”
The court officer fumbled for his radio, then bolted from the courtroom through the judge’s door.
“General Collier,” Forsythe said, “do you have any sugges-tion as to how to deal with this most unusual circumstance?”
Collier jumped to attention. “Your Honor, has the jury communicated to you that they’ve reached a verdict?”
“They have.”
Collier turned to the defense table, stared at Talmadge for a moment, then turned back to the bench. “Well, then, Your Honor, the state moves that the jury be brought into the courtroom to deliver its verdict!”
A murmur arose throughout the room. “Objection, Your Honor,” Talmadge shouted. “The defendant is not here. You can’t deliver a verdict without the defendant.”
“Objection overruled,” Forsythe snapped. “If the defendant’s not here, it’s his own damn fault, and if it’s not his own damn fault, I intend to find out whose fault it is. Bailiff, bring in the jury.”
Seconds later, the jury filed in, looking lost and weary.
Immediately, they spotted the defense table. The looks on their faces became even more questioning.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have an unusual circumstance here,” Forsythe said. “We seem to have lost our defendant.
However, this does not mean that the verdict cannot be delivered in absentia. So, Mr. Foreman, have you reached a verdict?”
The foreman, a thin man with gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses, stood. Before he could open his mouth, Talmadge was on his feet again.
“Your Honor, move for a mistrial, as the defendant’s absence is highly prejudicial.”
“The jury has already reached a verdict, Mr. Talmadge, before the defendant went missing. So how could it be prejudicial?”
“Move for a mistrial, Your Honor,” Talmadge answered weakly.
“Motion denied. Answer the question, Mr. Foreman.”
The thin man looked frightened as his glance jumped around the courtroom. “Yes, Your Honor. We have.”
“Would you hand your verdict to the clerk, please?”
The man held out his hand as the clerk approached and took the forms from him. She walked over, reached above her, and handed the papers to Forsythe. He scanned them quickly, his face expressionless, then handed them back to the clerk.
“Since the defendant is unable to stand and face the jury, his representatives will. Gentlemen, on your feet.”
Talmadge and his two underlings stood.
“Clerk, read the verdicts.”
“On count one of the indictment, a violation of TCA 39-13-202, first-degree murder of Allison May Matthews, we find the defendant guilty as charged …”
A muffled buzz filled the courtroom. Forsythe slammed his gavel down twice as the clerk continued.
Guilty as charged. Guilty as charged. Guilty as charged …
How many times, Taylor wondered, would she say that? A roar grew in her ears. She looked to her right and saw all the people around her staring at her. She looked up and watched as Forsythe banged his gavel over and over, almost in slow motion, his voice a roar now, too.
She felt herself swaying back and forth, as if the room were swirling around her.
Forsythe turned to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, as I explained at the beginning of this trial, this is a two-part process. Ordinarily, we would begin the sentencing phase of this trial now. But that’s not possible. The constitution requires that a defendant be present to speak to the jury about any mitigating factors in his favor, and as we can plainly see, that is not possible. There are constitutional grounds for delivering a verdict in absentia, but that’s as far as we can go right now. Therefore, I have no choice but to thank you for your long and difficult service to the court and to dismiss you at this time.”
The jurors looked at each other, almost in shock, as if to ask, “Can we really go now?”
Forsythe slammed his gavel down again. “General Collier, I will issue an immediate warrant for the arrest of the defendant on any charges you draw up. Just do it quickly.
And I assume the police are already in the loop on this, correct?”
“We’re on it, Your Honor. As we speak …”
“Fabulous.” Forsythe turned to the defense table. “And I’m going to hold you, Mr. Talmadge, in contempt of court.
You’re going to be spending the next forty-eight hours as my guest. Bailiff, take him into custody.”
Wes Talmadge, in his eight-hundred-dollar Armani suit, looked up at the judge in shock. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. His hands were shaking and he held them out, palms forward, as if to ward off the court officer walking up to him. Then his hands fell to his side in defeat.
“Court’s dismissed,” Forsythe announced, banging his gavel as he stood up. “All rise,” the court officer shouted, his right hand holding Wes Talmadge’s arm.
Taylor stood up, her mind blank, her vision blurring. People around her were jumping, scrambling to get out of the courtroom, yanking out their cell phones, shouting at each other. A half-dozen people jostled her, almost knocking her over as she stood there gazing out at the courtroom pandemonium.
He’s gone, she thought. He really did it.
Then she looked down at her own hands, held out in front of her, shaking slightly.