“So there it is. She’s a Negro. You gentlemen are white. Everyone expects that a white jury will always convict a black defendant. But I know that not to be true. I think-matter of fact, I truly believe-that you have more honor than that. You have the integrity to see through what the prosecutor is trying to do here, which is to railroad an innocent woman whose only crime was telling you honestly that her boss was a mean old woman.

“Do you see what we’ve found? We’ve turned up the most important fact of all. And that fact, the fact that Gracie’s skin is black, should have no influence whatsoever on what you decide.

“That’s what the law says, in every state in this Union. If there is a reasonable doubt in your mind as to whether or not Gracie Johnson is a murderer, you… must… vote… to… acquit.”

I started to go back to my chair, but then I turned and walked right up to Carter Ames’s table.

“May I, Carter?”

I picked up his Bible, flipping through the pages until I appeared to find the verse I was seeking in the book of Proverbs. No one needed to know I was quoting from memory:

“When justice is done, it brings joy to the righteous.”

I closed the Good Book.

Chapter 5

CARTER AMES PUSHED his silver flask of bourbon toward my face. “Have a swig, Ben. You deserve it, son. Well done.”

What a sight for the funny pages we must have made- Ames barely five feet tall, me at six-four-standing side by side in the marble hallway outside the courtroom.

“No, thanks, Carter. I’d rather be sober when the verdict comes in.”

“I wouldn’t, if I was you.” His voice was a curdled mixture of phlegm and whiskey. As he lifted the flask to his mouth, I was surprised to see half-moons of sweat under his arms. In the courtroom he’d looked cool as a block of pond ice.