Judge Stone by James Patterson - 4

I stepped into chambers, dropped my briefcase beside the desk. Through the door, I called to the clerk. “Get the sheriff on the line for me, Luna. I’m going to request some extra security at the sentencing hearing today.”

Luna sped into chambers and was standing beside my desk before I had time to hang up my robe. “The sheriff’s already been here,” she said. “He told me to give you this letter. Warned me not to look at it. He said you should read it before you go into court.”

Luna handed me a plastic bag protecting a plain paper envelope. My name was scrawled on the front, below a distinctive return address: Ferrell Gray, Bullock County Jail.

Settling into my chair, I opened the envelope and saw a sea of blue ink scribbled across the front and back of two sheets of paper.

I scanned the letter quickly. And then I set both pages on my desk pad and slowly reread it. Gave it a thorough review.

“Sweet Jesus,” I muttered.

Luna said, “Is it something terrible? I never saw the sheriff bring a letter to the courthouse before.”

That was true. It was a harbinger of ill tidings. Mick Owens and I went way back. He was the sheriff of Bullock County and did not, as a rule, deliver the mail.

Hastily, she added, “You can tell me to mind my own business. But I can’t believe someone about to be sentenced would have the nerve to write a personal letter to you.” Her head shook in disbelief. “That man’s crazy.”

“Yeah, it’s to me, no question. The salutation reads: ‘To Judge Stone, you fucking whore.’”

Luna slapped her hand over her mouth. When she remained in the doorway, I asked, “You want to hear more?”

She shook her head no. Then changed her mind, I guess, because, with her mouth still covered, she nodded at me.

I summarized the high points. She’d be making copies in a minute and could read the whole thing from start to finish.

“He devotes an entire page to my personal appearance. Unflattering comments, you feel me? The description ‘ugly bitch’ is repeated in three places, and he spells it differently every time. Damn. ” I clicked my tongue in disapproval.

“He says I’m too dumb to be a judge—even though his spelling and grammar would shame a third grader. Attributes my incompetence to my race, which he describes with the old-time slur.” That word, he could spell.

“It’s a scandal, Judge,” Luna said.

I turned to the second sheet of paper. “Well, there’s more. He informs me that he has made a deal with the devil. Satan himself is now Ferrell Gray’s ally, apparently. And that forms the basis for his threat.”

“He threatened you? Oh, no, he did not.”

“He did. He says if I follow the jury’s recommendation and sentence him to death, the devil will see to it that I die a gruesome death. Which the defendant describes in some detail.”

I winced as I read the second page a final time. Recalling the brutality of the deaths the defendant had inflicted on the elderly couple he’d murdered when the old folks interrupted his burglary of their home, I knew that Ferrell Gray didn’t require the devil’s assistance to commit unspeakable acts.

I blew out a deep breath. Our system places tremendous power in the hands of the judiciary. The delicate balance can get thrown off when personal emotions come into play.

Luna lingered in the door of my chambers. I picked up the envelope and letter. Extended the documents across my desk for her to take.

“I need three copies, Luna. Be sure to get the front and back of both those pages. Envelope, too.”

I was glad she pulled the door shut behind her. I had some thinking to do.