A Lesson Before Dying

Sparknotes

Chapter One

I was not there, yet I was there. No, I did not go to the trial, I did not hearthe verdict, because I knew all the time what it would be. Still, I was there. Iwas there as much as anyone else was there. Either I sat behind my aunt and hisgodmother or I sat beside them. Both are large women, but his godmother islarger. She is of average height, five four, five five, but weighs nearly twohundred pounds. Once she and my aunt had found their places--two rows behind thetable where he sat with his court-appointed attorney--his godmother became asimmobile as a great stone or as one of our oak or cypress stumps. She never gotup once to get water or go to the bathroom down in the basement. She just satthere staring at the boy's clean-cropped head where he sat at the front tablewith his lawyer. Even after he had gone to await the jurors' verdict, her eyesremained in that one direction. She heard nothing said in the courtroom. Not bythe prosecutor, not by the defense attorney, not by my aunt. (Oh, yes, she didhear one word--one word, for sure: "hog.") It was my aunt whose eyes followedthe prosecutor as he moved from one side of the courtroom to the other, poundinghis fist into the palm of his hand, pounding the table where his papers lay,pounding the rail that separated the jurors from the rest of the courtroom. Itwas my aunt who followed his every move, not his godmother. She was not evenlistening. She had gotten tired of listening, She knew, as we all knew, what theoutcome would be. A white man had been killed during a robbery, and though twoof the robbers had been killed on the spot, one had been captured, and he, too,would have to die. Though he told them no, he had nothing to do with it, that hewas on his way to the White Rabbit Bar and Lounge when Brother and Bear drove upbeside him and offered him a ride. After he got into the car, they asked him ifhe had any money. When he told them he didn't have a solitary dime, it was thenthat Brother and Bear started talking credit, saying that old Gropi should notmind crediting them a pint since he knew them well, and he knew that thegrinding season was coming soon, and they would be able to pay him back then.

The store was empty, except for the old storekeeper, Alcee Gropi, who sat on astool behind the counter. He spoke first. He asked Jefferson about hisgodmother. Jefferson told him his nannan was all right. Old Gropi nodded hishead. "You tell her for me I say hello," he told Jefferson. He looked at Brotherand Bear. But he didn't like them. He didn't trust them. Jefferson could seethat in his face. "Do for you boys?" he asked. "A bottle of that Apple White,there, Mr. Gropi," Bear said. Old Gropi got the bottle off the shelf, but he didnot set it on the counter. He could see that the boys had already been drinking,and he became suspicious. "You boys got money?" he asked. Brother and Bearspread out all the money they had in their pockets on top of the counter. OldGropi counted it with his eyes. "That's not enough," he said. "Come on, now, Mr.Gropi," they pleaded with him. "You know you go'n get your money soon asgrinding start." "No," he said. "Money is slack everywhere. You bring the money,you get your wine." He turned to put the bottle back on the shelf. One of theboys, the one called Bear, started around the counter."You, stop there," Gropitold him. "Go back." Bear had been drinking, and his eyes were glossy, he walkedunsteadily, grinning all the time as he continued around the counter. "Go back,"Gropi told him. "I mean, the last time now--go back." Bear continued. Gropimoved quickly toward the cash register, where he withdrew a revolver and startedshooting. Soon there was shooting from another direction. When it was quietagain, Bear, Gropi, and Brother were all down on the floor, and only Jeffersonwas standing.

He wanted to run, but he couldn't run. He couldn't even think. He didn't knowwhere he was. He didn't know how he had gotten there. He couldn't remember evergetting into the car. He couldn't remember a thing he had done all day.

He heard a voice calling. He thought the voice was coming from the liquorshelves. Then he realized that old Gropi was not dead, and that it was he whowas calling. He made himself go to the end of the counter. He had to look acrossBear to see the storekeeper. Both lay between the counter and the shelves ofalcohol. Several bottles had broken, and alcohol and blood covered their bodiesas well as the floor. He stood there gaping at the old man slumped against thebottom shelf of gallons and half gallons of wine. He didn't know whether heshould go to him or whether he should run out of there. The old man continued tocall: "Boy? Boy? Boy?" Jefferson became frightened. The old man was still alive.He had seen him. He would tell on him. Now he started babbling. "It wasn't me.It wasn't me, Mr. Gropi. It was Brother and Bear. Brother shot you. It wasn'tme. They made me come with them. You got to tell the law that, Mr. Gropi. Youhear me Mr. Gropi?"

But he was talking to a dead man.

Still he did not run. He didn't know what to do. He didn't believe that this hadhappened. Again he couldn't remember how he had gotten there. He didn't knowwhether he had come there with Brother and Bear, or whether he had walked in andseen all this after it happened.

He looked from one dead body to the other. He didn't know whether he should callsomeone on the telephone or run. He had never dialed a telephone in his life,but he had seen other people use them. He didn't know what to do. He wasstanding by the liquor shelf, and suddenly he realized he needed a drink andneeded it badly. He snatched a bottle off the shelf, wrung off the cap, andturned up the bottle, all in one continuous motion. The whiskey burned him likefire--his chest, his belly, even his nostrils. His eyes watered; he shook hishead to clear his mind. Now he began to realize where he was. Now he began torealize fully what had happened. Now he knew he had to get out of there. Heturned. He saw the money in the cash register, under the little wire clamps. Heknew taking money was wrong. His nannan had told him never to steal. He didn'twant to steal. But he didn't have a solitary dime in his pocket. And nobody wasaround, so who could say he stole it? Surely not one of the dead men.

He was halfway across the room, the money stuffed inside his jacket pocket, thehalf bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand, when two white men walked into thestore.

That was his story.

The prosecutor's story was different. The prosecutor argued that Jefferson andthe other two had gone there with the full intention of robbing the old man andkilling him so that he could not identify them. When the old man and the othertwo robbers were all dead, this one--it proved the kind of animal he reallywas--stuffed the money into his pockets and celebrated the event by drinkingover their still-bleeding bodies.

The defense argued that Jefferson was innocent of all charges except being atthe wrong place at the wrong time. There was absolutely no proof that there hadbeen a conspiracy between himself and the other two. The fact that Mr. Gropishot only Brother and Bear was proof of Jefferson's innocence. Why did Mr. Gropishoot one boy twice and never shoot at Jefferson once? Because Jefferson wasmerely an innocent bystander. He took the whiskey to calm his nerves, not tocelebrate. He took the money out of hunger and plain stupidity.

"Gentlemen of the jury, look at this--this--this boy. I almost said man, but Ican't say man. Oh, sure, he has...