Judge Stone by James Patterson - 83

I pulled the door wide open, certain that some new catastrophe had befallen our family. “What on earth? What’s happened now? Is something the matter?”

They laughed. Laughed loud, like a couple of kids at the circus.

Jordan said, “Nothing’s the matter! But you gotta go!”

“What? Go where?”

“To the party. The watch party over at the community center, at Oak Grove Park.”

“Oh, hell no.” Waving off that suggestion, I flapped a hand in front of my face, like insects were buzzing around me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You have to!” Nellie said.

“No way. I told you. I’m staying in tonight.”

Nellie grabbed my arm. “Mary. You’re in the lead.”

Maybe I didn’t hear her right. She sounded kind of drunk. Looked it, too, to be honest. But when I sniffed her to check for alcohol, I didn’t smell anything.

“Is this some kind of joke? Are you messing with me?”

Jordan grabbed me, wrapped me in a hug. “You’re winning, Mary! Everyone in the county is there—you’ve got to see it.”

“They’re asking for you,” Nellie said. “Chanting your name.”

I was almost speechless. “My name? Bullshit,” I said.

They both broke into peals of laughter, like I was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

“Come on, Mary. Loucilla’s been calling you, we all have, can’t get you to pick up. She’s driving in from Montgomery. She’ll be at the watch party any minute. Everybody wants to talk to you!”

I let them lead me to the car. My mind was so muddled, I didn’t even stop to think about what I was wearing. Showed up at the watch party in my overalls. People didn’t seem to mind, though. When we walked in, all conversation stopped. There was an instant of silence.

And then the cheering began.

I couldn’t believe it. It sounded like a roar, bouncing off the walls of the multipurpose room. Joe Turner, the local party chair, ran up to congratulate me, shake my hand. It was dreamlike. I didn’t trust it to be the truth.

“Show me the numbers, okay?” I said. “What the secretary of state’s office is showing. And the county clerk.”

Joe pulled me over to the screen where the current results of the races were on display. They did indeed show me to be in the lead. With 45 percent of the returns counted, I was beating my opponent, 61 percent to 39 percent.

I stared at those figures, trying to get my head around the unexpected outcome. “Not possible,” I said.

Joe was ebullient. “Mary, it’s solid. We’re taking the numbers from the official websites. It’s absolutely accurate. Your lead has been consistent since the returns started rolling in.”

Squinting, I checked the voter turnout column. “But look at the voter numbers. There’s gotta be a mistake.”

“No mistake!” That was from Nellie, who’d joined us. “They’re sky-high, right? Those returns rolled in, showing that the community turned out to vote in numbers way bigger than anyone predicted. You did that, Mary! You got everybody off the couch and into the polling places today.”

“It broke a record,” the county chairman said. “We haven’t had voter turnout this high in this century.”

“More returns coming in!” somebody shouted, and the chairman ran off. People from the courthouse pushed through the crowd to say hello. The associate judge from the circuit ran up to congratulate me, said the turnout I’d instigated was helping him, too.

The room in the community center smelled of spice; a big delivery of barbecue had arrived at a food table, and they were serving up pulled pork sandwiches. Someone handed me a cold beer, and I drank it, straight from the can. In front of God and everybody.

The party got so crowded, I started to perspire, had to wipe sweat from my forehead with a paper napkin. Loucilla arrived, pushing through the crowd to hug me around the neck. And my sisters stuck close by me, leading the cheer every time a new round of numbers was posted on that screen. My lead inched up. By ten o’clock, I was staring at the new percentages—63 percent to 37 percent—when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned around and saw Bria Gaines standing there, with Benjamin Meyers.

“Dr. Gaines!” I exclaimed. “And Ben Meyers. This is such a surprise, it’s nice to see you.”

There was a cheer in the room, a babble of excited voices. Bria Gaines had to speak up to be heard.

“I had to see you before I left. I want to thank you.”

I brushed it off. “No need, Dr. Gaines. I was just doing my job.”

She shook her head decisively. “Judge, I know what you did for me. The risk you took on my behalf. I’m so grateful to you. From the bottom of my heart.”

Ben Meyers shook my hand. “Congratulations on your victory, Judge. This is a monumental win. The best thing that could happen for the Third Circuit and Bullock County.”

I checked the results again, like I was afraid the lead might have disappeared. It was still hard to believe it was happening. “I got lucky this time, didn’t I?”

Bria gave me a knowing smile. “Luck? Judge, you know it’s not luck. We always have to work twice as hard—to get anything.”

The county chairman pushed through the crowd, called out to me. “Judge, you got to do an acceptance speech! The Birmingham TV news is here. Your opponent just conceded!”

Television? A speech? I was wearing overalls. “You mean right now?”

“Yes!”

Joe was pulling me away from Bria Gaines. Before the crowd swallowed her up, she waved at me, shouting, “Look me up in Chicago!” And then I was up on the makeshift stage, with white lights blinding me. The chairman’s voice blared through the speakers. “Judge Mary Stone has won reelection to her seat as circuit judge for a second term!”

Folks were whooping, applauding, stomping their feet. I was teetering once again, in danger of a crying breakdown. I didn’t let go, though. Took a deep breath. Thought about my mama. Making her proud. My people, generations of them buried in the soil of the Black Belt.

And I knew what to say.

“Friends, thank you for your support. I’m proud to serve for another six-year term. My roots are here, my heart is here. One thing you never have to doubt, that I swear to you tonight. Sitting at that bench, I’ll do everything in my power to see that justice is done in my courtroom in the state of Alabama.”

People cheered, some of them screaming at the top of their lungs.

And in the corners of the hall, I observed a few frowning faces. One man muttering something to another, with a formidable expression.

That was sobering. But I’m glad I caught it. It served as an important reminder.

In this job, I can’t make everyone happy. It would be dangerous to try.

A judge who wants to please everyone won’t bring justice to people in the Black Belt.

They need a judge who’s willing to fight.

Born and raised here, I’m as much a part of this community as the famous soil we stand upon. I understand the challenges we face; the injustices we’ve suffered. When I die, they’ll bury me on the land my great-grandfather bought, scores of years ago. That’s why I’ll never leave this place.

The people need me.

We need each other.