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| Categories | Thrillers & Suspense |
| Author | John Grisham |
| Publisher | Hodder Paperbacks (July 11, 2019) |
| Language | English |
| Paperback | 512 pages |
| Item Weight | 12.7 ounces |
| Dimensions |
5.04 x 1.57 x 7.72 inches |
I. Book introduction
The Reckoning is a best-selling novel by John Grisham. In addition to Grisham’s typical legal thriller, the book was also characterized by reviewers as “a murder mystery, a courtroom drama, a family saga, a coming-of-age story”, “a period piece”, and a war novel.
#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • John Grisham’s most powerful, surprising, and suspenseful thriller yet • “A murder mystery, a courtroom drama, a family saga.” —USA Today
October 1946, Clanton, Mississippi
Pete Banning was Clanton, Mississippi’s favorite son—a decorated World War II hero, the patriarch of a prominent family, a farmer, father, neighbor, and a faithful member of the Methodist church. Then one cool October morning he rose early, drove into town, and committed a shocking crime. Pete’s only statement about it—to the sheriff, to his lawyers, to the judge, to the jury, and to his family—was: “I have nothing to say.” He was not afraid of death and was willing to take his motive to the grave.
In a major novel unlike anything he has written before, John Grisham takes us on an incredible journey, from the Jim Crow South to the jungles of the Philippines during World War II; from an insane asylum filled with secrets to the Clanton courtroom where Pete’s defense attorney tries desperately to save him.
Reminiscent of the finest tradition of Southern Gothic storytelling, The Reckoning would not be complete without Grisham’s signature layers of legal suspense, and he delivers on every page.
Plot
The plot centers on the 1946 murder trial of prominent family patriarch Pete Banning, a war hero who has returned home from the Second World War.
The story takes place in the fictional town of Clanton, Mississippi, in Grisham’s Ford County. It is the seventh Grisham novel to take place here, following A Time to Kill, The Summons, The Chamber, The Last Juror, Sycamore Row, and A Time for Mercy.
Pete Banning comes from a family that has farmed cotton for generations. He is owner of a 640-acre parcel in northern Mississippi. In Part One, “The Killing,” Pete’s wife Liza has recently been placed in a mental institution; his children Joel and Stella are college students; and his sister Florry is a would-be writer who lives on an adjacent parcel. One morning, Pete rises and decides that today is the day for an act of killing. He goes about his normal activities before heading into town, where he walks in on Dexter Bell, the pastor of the local Methodist church, and draws a gun. The pastor exclaims, “If it’s about Liza, I can explain.” Pete shoots Bell three times, killing him.
Pete makes no secret of what he has done and the town is aghast. Sheriff Nix Gridley drives out to the Banning farm, arrests Pete and jails him without resistance. To all inquiries about his actions, Pete replies, “I have nothing to say.” His children are instructed to stay away from Clanton. The pastor’s widow, Jackie Bell, takes her three children to her hometown in Georgia.
After some internal friction, a grand jury returns an indictment of first degree murder. Banning family attorney John Wilbanks attempts to construct a defense but Pete refuses to allow a request for change of venue or preparation for a plea of temporary insanity. Joel and Stella attempt to visit their mother at the State Hospital, but are denied access per instructions from Pete. Pete’s trial is brief. The DA makes a straightforward case that is not refuted in any way by Wilbanks, at Banning’s insistence. The jury returns a verdict of guilty with a sentence of death by electrocution. Pete is allowed to visit Liza at the State Hospital, where she says, “Can you forgive me?” He says he cannot but that he continues to love her. On the day of Banning’s scheduled execution, the governor of Mississippi meets privately with Banning and offers to commute the sentence to life imprisonment if Banning will state a reason for having committed the murder. He again replies that he has nothing to say. The execution is carried out in the Clanton courthouse and Banning is buried the next day.
Part Two, “The Boneyard,” an extended flashback, begins in 1925 with Pete as a new West Point graduate who meets 18-year-old Liza at a debutante ball in Memphis. After a brief and passionate romance, they elope and marry. After the deaths of Pete’s parents in the early 1930s, Pete leaves the active military, enters the reserves and the couple moves to the cotton farm. After a few difficult years, the farm returns to profitability. Pete is recalled to active military duty in 1939. He ends up in the Philippines, where U.S. forces surrender to the Japanese in April 1942. On the death march to a prisoner of war camp, Pete is knocked unconscious, falls into a ditch and is presumed dead by fellow prisoners. However, he survives, rejoins the march and is imprisoned under brutal conditions. Two months later, word reaches the farm that he is missing and presumed dead. Later in 1942, as Pete is being transferred by ship to a slave labor camp in Japan, he escapes when the ship is torpedoed. A letter to Liza providing his status is ripped up by sympathetic Filipinos who are afraid of reprisal if found in possession of the letter.
Pete and fellow U.S. soldier Clay Wampler join a guerilla force in the Philippine mountains and mount numerous effective attacks on Japanese personnel, vehicles and planes. In late 1944, U.S. forces begin the liberation of the Philippines. Pete is rescued in early 1945 and returns to the U.S. for treatment in a San Francisco military hospital. Liza receives a call from him and, after recovering from her shock, she rushes to San Francisco for a joyous reunion. In May 1945, he returns to Mississippi.
In Part Three, “The Betrayal,” the story line of Part One is resumed. Joel becomes the legally appointed guardian of his mother. He and Stella begin visiting her periodically. Errol McLeish, a Georgia lawyer who has befriended Jackie Bell, associates Mississippi lawyer Burch Dunlap as counsel to represent her in a wrongful death suit against the Banning estate. As a lengthy sequence of legal issues is worked out, Joel and Stella make fitful progress on bringing stability back into their lives, with Joel in law school at Mississippi and Stella working as a teacher with an eye on New York. Liza escapes from the State Hospital, returns home, has a long talk with Florry, goes to the cemetery and commits suicide lying atop Pete’s grave. The Jackie Bell lawsuits prevail despite appeals and other delaying tactics, resulting in all of the Pete Banning property going to Bell, who has married McLeish.
Climatic Ending – Spoiler Alert Florry is living with a friend in New Orleans and in failing health. Joel and Stella go for a final visit. On her deathbed, Florry tells the story of how Liza, thinking Pete was dead in the Philippines, had an impromptu sexual relationship with Jupe, grandson of two elderly employees on the Banning family farm who were descended from slaves. Liza became pregnant and was taken to Memphis by Dexter Bell for an abortion. She was left with a persistent infection that caused her to lose interest in resuming the hitherto vigorous sexual relationship with Pete upon his return from the war. Pete ultimately confronted her with evidence of the abortion. Liza, unable to admit to a sexual relationship with a young black man, told Pete that Dexter was the father. Stunned, Joel says “So I guess Pete killed the wrong man, right, Florry?” and walks out.
After mulling over the mess, Joel understands why all the people did what they did, but wishes he were still ignorant. When Stella joins him, they agree that the two of them will stick together and never return to Clanton.
“What a family,” he says, as Stella weeps.
Editorial Reviews
“The quest for justice is only the beginning in this Southern-family saga…Grisham does so much more this time around.”
—Associated Press“John Grisham is not only the master of suspense but also an acute observer of the human condition. And these remarkable skills converge in The Reckoning—an original, gripping, penetrating novel that may be his greatest work yet.”
—David Grann, New York Times bestselling author of Killers of the Flower Moon“John Grisham is the master of legal fiction, and his latest starts with a literal bang — and then travels backward through the horrors of war to explore what makes a hero, what makes a villain, and how thin the line between the two might be.”
—Jodi Picoult, #1 New York Times bestselling author of A Spark of Light and Small Great Things“In this saga of love and war, John Grisham has given us a sprawling and engrossing story about a southern family, a global conflict, and the kinds of secrets that can shape all of us. From the courtrooms and jails of rural Mississippi to the war-torn Pacific, Grisham spins a tale that is at once entertaining and illuminating.”
—Jon Meacham, New York Times bestselling author of The Soul of America“When a master of storytelling and suspense takes on one of the most wrenching stories in history, the result is a book that will break your heart, set your blood pumping and your mind racing, and leave you gasping for breath by the final page. I’m still trying to recover from The Reckoning.”
–Candice Millard, New York Times bestselling author of The River of Doubt and Destiny of the Republic
About John Grisham
John Grisham (born February 8, 1955 in Jonesboro, Arkansas) is an American novelist, lawyer and former member of the 7th district of the Mississippi House of Representatives, known for his popular legal thrillers. According to the American Academy of Achievement, Grisham has written 28 consecutive number-one fiction bestsellers, and his books have sold 300 million copies worldwide. Along with Tom Clancy and J. K. Rowling, Grisham is one of only three authors to have sold two million copies on a first printing.
Grisham graduated from Mississippi State University and earned a Juris Doctor from the University of Mississippi School of Law in 1981. He practised criminal law for about a decade and served in the Mississippi House of Representatives from 1983 to 1990.
Grisham’s first novel, A Time to Kill, was published in June 1989, four years after he began writing it. Grisham’s first bestseller, The Firm, sold more than seven million copies. The book was adapted into a 1993 feature film of the same name, starring Tom Cruise, and a 2012 TV series which continues the story ten years after the events of the film and novel. Seven of his other novels have also been adapted into films: The Chamber, The Client, A Painted House, The Pelican Brief, The Rainmaker, The Runaway Jury, and Skipping Christmas.
Grisham is a two-time winner of the Harper Lee Prize for Legal Fiction and was honored with the Library of Congress Creative Achievement Award for Fiction.
When he’s not writing, Grisham serves on the board of directors of the Innocence Project and of Centurion Ministries, two national organizations dedicated to exonerating those who have been wrongfully convicted. Much of his fiction explores deep-seated problems in our criminal justice system.
John Girsham lives on a farm in central Virginia.
II. [Reviews] The Reckoning by John Grisham
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1. MATTHEW review The Reckoning
This was the most epic and intricate novel Grisham has released in quite some time. It’s a mixture of legal drama and historical fiction that keeps you guessing until the very last page. Most of his recent books have been fairly quick reads with a basic storyline. The Reckoning is anything but basic or quick.
If you are into Grisham mainly for his legal dramas, I think the historical fiction may distract you too much. If you are really into historical fiction, you may not be patient enough to get through the legal stuff to get to the World War II story. But, if you are a fan of both, you will get the best of both worlds; the first third is legal, the second third historical, and the last 3rd brings it all together.
Note on the content: the story takes place during and post WWII with narrative taking place in both the American South and the Pacific Theater. Grisham wrote it to keep true to the attitudes and the dialogue of the time period. This means that some words and opinions are controversial and could be upsetting. If you are okay with prose content being raw for the sake of realism, you should be fine. But, if you think this might make you uncomfortable, approach with caution.
This was an enthralling reading experience and one of the best I have had with Grisham. It’s great, unique storytelling that I believe lots of book fans will enjoy.
2. DIANE S review The Reckoning
4+. It has been a while since I have read a Grisham. Not sure why, but I can say I’m glad this is one I read. It combined my many book loves, a legal story, a mystery, which is really at the heart of this book, and a look back to a terrible time in history. It is the 1940′ in the Jim Crow south, a farmer whose large farm has been passed down through generations, Pete Banning does what he needs to do for the immediate future. He then walks over to the Methodist Church and shoots the Pastor three times. Why? He has no intention of saying, no explanation, no excuses. His wife had been committed to a mental institution the year before, his two grown children away at their respective schools.
So that is the mystery, and of course the court case. We then follow him back to the war, and the Bataan death March in the Philippines. Hard to read, but well researched, well written, the merciless Japanese and Bannings time in the military. Too many he became a hero. There is one part near the beginning that was very emotional, he was loved by many.
This was a book I couldn’t put down, it just pulled me into the story of this family, and of course I needed to know the why. So,even though I don’t always fsvor narratives that go back and forth, here I can’t see this story working any other way. It truly has a little of everything, plus a family that one can’t help but embrace, and a man who makes a decision feeling he has no other choice. In this book I feel as though Grisham has out done himself.
ARC from Doubleday.
3. DARLA review The Reckoning
This is some story! Grisham returns to his roots and we are given a glimpse of the Jim Crow South in good ole Ford County. The book begins with a mystery. Why does Pete Banning shoot the minister and refuse to defend his actions? We watch his trial on the edge of our seats wondering if he will be sentenced to die on Old Sparky. No sooner is this answer revealed and we are whisked back in time to the Philippines during WW II with grueling details about the horrors of the Bataan Death March. Finally there are classic Grisham legal maneuverings as we continue to follow the Banning family post-trial. The deepest of secrets are reserved until the very last chapter making this a riveting read and one of Grisham’s best.
4. LABIJOSE review The Reckoning
Para mí, que he leído muchísimas novelas de Grisham, esta es una de las más complejas y conseguidas de toda su obra. El autor nos lleva de nuevo a su Mississippi rural de finales de los 40, concretamente a Clanton. Allí, un héroe de la Segunda Guerra Mundial y hacendado recolector de algodón asesina, sin motivo aparente, y a la vista de suficientes testigos, al pastor de la iglesia metodista de su localidad, con el que además la familia compartía una hermosa amistad. Sabe que lo van a condenar a la silla eléctrica, salvo que explique el porqué de su crimen, en cuyo caso le podrían conmutar la pena a cadena perpetua. Sabe que le está buscando la ruina a su familia, que depende del negocio algodonero para seguir con sus prósperas vidas. Sabe que el respeto que todos sus vecinos le profesan se va a convertir en odio. Sabe que va a dejar huérfanos a la esposa del pastor y a sus tres hijos, con pocas posibilidades de supervivencia. Sabe que tan solo tiene que decir por qué lo ha hecho, y a pesar de ello, elige el silencio y la silla eléctrica.
No es la típica novela sobre abogados y juicios a los que nos tiene acostumbrados. Hay abogados y hay juicios, sí. Pero no son lo más importante en la narrativa. En la segunda parte (hay tres, bien diferenciadas) asistimos a la historia personal de Pete Banning, nuestro héroe, desde que conoce a su mujer y se alista en el ejército, hasta su movilización y posterior traslado a Filipinas. Tras el bombardeo de Pearl Harbour, la guerra en el Pacífico cobrará extrema importancia. Aquí nuestro protagonista será apresado por los japoneses, y asistiremos a capítulo tras capítulo de vejaciones y sufrimientos. El que avisa no es traidor, esta parte está descrita con tal detalle, que a más de uno se le puede atragantar la lectura, pues no se escatima en nada. Es como si estuviésemos leyendo una novela sobre un campo de concentración nazi, sólo que aquí los nazis son los japos (perdón por el americanismo). Y por desgracia, lo que se cuenta, por lo que yo sé, es bastante verídico. Es en esta parte donde la novela alcanza una dimensión que raya en lo soberbio, por lo que intuyo que Grisham hubiese sido un gran narrador bélico.
Las partes primera y tercera, sin estar a la misma altura, no desmerecen para nada a la segunda, que conforman en su totalidad una lectura APASIONANTE. Y no diré más, que ya es mucho.
5. KAY review The Reckoning
… tragic …..
A very good Grisham book. However, this is not a crowd-pleaser book like his recent mystery books ie, The Rooster Bar or Camino Island. I’m so glad he wrote this book because I wish he has a follow-up for Sycamore Row.
The Reckoning is a dark DARK novel. Set in 1940s Mississippi of readers familiar Ford County. A story of a returning war hero, his family, murder, courtroom, and deaths. The consequence of the killing is as bad as you would imagine. His children’s life and family afterward however is what really got me. Part of this book covers WW2 where Pete Banning was a POW in the Philippines. It was gruesome but not surprising as it is war.
It’s a wonderful read (audio was awesome too) as sad as it was. SAD SAD SAD. My only wish was the mystery of it all was a different one.
6. RONALD H.CLARK review The Reckoning
I have read every adult John Grisham novel since “A Time to Kill” and reviewed many on Amazon. I am at a loss to understand why Grisham published this book. My reaction is not due to the very minor amount of legal elements in the story, because Grisham has developed into a fine novelist over the last several decades. In addition to being gripping stories (or “page turners” as I call them), recently he has used them to educate his readers about different facets of the legal system, from mass tort lawyers to public interest lawyers to lawyers who oversee judges. And in fact each of the three capsules of the story is well written. What does bother me is the intense focus on violence and shocking human degradation, the absence of any page-turning suspense, and the fact that the three sections of the story don’t fit together smoothly.
The first section of the story is set in Mississippi 1946 and focuses upon the central character in the novel, cotton farmer Peter Banning freshly returned from being a pow and guerilla fighter against the Japanese invaders of the Philippines. Many had thought him dead during the several years of his absence, so he returns a hero. A West Pointer and upstanding citizen of the cotton-growing community, Pete one day walks into the local church and pumps three bullets into a local minister. He does not deny his crime, or even authorize any defense in court, and most puzzling he does not offer any explanation for his bizarre act. As a result, in this capital murder case, he suffers the ultimate penalty, leaving behind his wife and two teen age children. I though this skillful section kicked off the book nicely.
My problems began with the middle section, which actually takes place prior to the first section, after Pete has rejoined the army and been sent to fight in the Philippines in 1941. After some initial fighting with Japanese troops, Pete is captured and launched into the infamous Bataan Death March. True to history, the Japanese soldiers treat the Americans during the long march to a prison in the most cruel and inhumane ways one can imagine–for about 100 pages, over and over again. Why is it necessary to go into the most intimate gory details repeatedly?–it turns the reader’s stomach. Once again I do not criticize the author’s substantial skills in capturing these horrid details, I only wonder why about 1/3 of the novel has to be devoted to this inhuman spectacle. The section also recounts Pete joining up with a guerilla organization and killing many Japanese troops, while suffering severe injuries himself. Yet more violence.
The final section jumps back to 1946-49 andcovers the mess for his family resulting from the murder. The victim’s family files a wrongful death action against Pete and his estate, and they seem determined to grab the family’s farm land, home and other assets if they are victorious. Here we have a bit of legal activities, and nobody can handle this kind of material like Grisham, but there is little suspense or excitement since the case is open and shut. What does emerge as the finest writing in the book is the turmoil undergone by Pete’s wife who is resident in an insane asylum, his sister who is in bad health, and the stress on his children trying to finish college without a mother or father. And in true Grisham fashion, we have a surprise ending and in fact do learn why he killed the minister.
Grisham has already proved beyond refutation that he has become a fine novelist who can shape dialogue and plot skillfully to tell remarkable stories. He does not have to write about Bataan, bloody guerilla operations, a family’s sorrow, or other non-legal subjects to demonstrate his versatility. On the other hand, he has developed by facing new challenges and perhaps this book was undertaken in that spirit. In any regard, Grisham is always worth reading–even here.
7. SCOTT HEDEGARD review The Reckoning
John Grisham has been a mainstay of American fiction for a long time now, and like all authors with impressive catalogs he has had some slightly disappointing books, good, and shows here with “The Reckoning” that he can still one out of the park.
But as a cautionary warning, this is NOT the feel good book of the year. Perhaps it’s best going in to know that the portion of the novel that takes place in Mississippi is supposedly a true story as Grisham states, and a woefully sad one at that. Obviously the characters and plot embellishment are necessary, but it does make the reader feel how the mentality of post-WWII northern Mississippians felt in many respects of a hard living.
The portion of the book that is more important is his telling the story of the atrocities committed by the Japanese during their occupation of the Philippines most infamously in the Bataan death march and unbelievably wretched conditions at Camp O’Donnell, where the captured men were kept, some to languish and die, some to be exported to Japan itself as slave labor in its coal mines. Grisham gets the accounts exactly right, and it is to his credit he uses his popularity to share this horrific episode in American military history, lest anybody ever forget the supreme sacrifices our WWII veterans made to keep us free. The main character and a buddy or two are fictional, but everything else is sadly and horribly true, including the cowardice of Douglas MacArthur, who failed on many fronts to serve those soldiers under his command, including refusing to send warehouses full of foodstuffs, medicine and other essential materials along with his troops. His cowardice was outmatched by his ego, as he brazenly strode ashore like a conquering hero well after the battle had been lost and only when American reinforcements arrived and secured the island archipelago. Why this man was and is treated like an American hero is baffling. He was in favor of nuclear annihilation of northeast China and North Korea during the Korean War and sufficiently alarmed Harry S Truman into removing him and replacing him with Mark Clark, a much more stable general to take over.
That said, Grisham weaves the two scenarios into a frankly depressing book, but captivating and emotionally charged one just the same. Even with this knowledge, it’s a great read, important to remind us of Bataan, and to have an intimate look into the lives of men who saw, experienced and survived humanity at its most evil and came home to quickly establish the US as the greatest nation on earth for at least a couple of decades. When John Grisham is on, he’s on, and “The Reckoning” is one of the best novels he’s written.
8. ANDY H.CR review The Reckoning
This is the story of the savaging of a prosperous southern family led by Pete Banning, a proud farmer who is also a war hero. In the opening of the book, he murders a clergyman and then refuses to discuss his actions while nevertheless taking responsibility for them. He never explains his motive for murder or attempts to justifiy what he has done publicly. Discovering the motive for the killing is therefore a central theme of the book.
This narration later goes back to Pete’s suffering and heroism during the Second World War when he survived the Bataan Death March and his subsequent imprisonment in a brutal Japanese prisoner of war camp. He later escapes from the Japanese and fights as a guerrilla leader. He operates effectively out of the Philippine jungle, against near impossible odds, even while desperately sick with malaria and other ailments . Grisham devotes considerable attention to Pete’s suffering and service during the war, and at times this seems a little odd since it is so different from his other novels. He also makes Pete an almost bigger-than-life combat leader whose time as a guerilla is almost equal parts misery and highly successful strikes against the Japanese.
The other parts of the story involve Pete’s actions and those of his family in Mississippi of the 1940s. The nature of Jim Crow in Mississippi is a constant background for the part of the story that does not take place in the Philippines. One character even discusses the black workers on Pete’s farm in the same way you would talk about slaves. Pete’s children appear to be nice people, and it is their responsibility to deal with a great many problems and to continue to move their own lives forward as best they can.
Also, I listened to this novel as an audiobook, and I feel remiss that this is the first time that I have commented on the brilliant reading of John Grisham‘s books by Michael Beck. Grisham is a towering novelist and Beck is the perfect narrator for his work.
Finally, I have included a picture of some Japanese weapons from World War II, including an officer’s sword and scabbard. During most of his service as a guerrilla in the Philippines, Pete was carrying captured weapons. As a POW, he was continuously trying to avoid death at the hands of Japanese soldiers who favored the bayonet or officers who sometimes used their swords on captured soldiers.
9. MONNIE review The Reckoning
Without doubt, this is one of the saddest and most haunting books I’ve read in a while (close to downright depressing, in fact). What’s more, about a third of it was so unsettling that insofar as possible, I skimmed through it. It is written matter-of-factly, without emotion – but the emotion comes through loud and clear nonetheless. Did I love it? In many ways, no; but in the overall scheme of things, it’s pretty darned awesome.
Let me clarify. The depressing part came near the end, when facts not previously in evidence were revealed (let’s just say that O Henry’s “The Gift of the Magi” came to mind). The unsettling part came in the middle, when details of the World War II military life of Pete Banning, one of the main characters, was outlined in all-too-vivid detail. If there’s anything in this world I’d rather not read about, see, or listen to, it’s the horrors of war. And the entire middle section of this book, Titled “The Boneyard,” lays it all out. Yes, it’s a very important part of the story – but had I known it was coming I’d have left sneaker tracks on the sidewalk running the other way.
That said, what a story it is. Set in small-town Clanton, Mississippi, after World War II has ended and Pete, thought to have been killed, returns home to his extensive cotton farm as a decorated hero. His wife, Liza, is in a mental institution – at Pete’s orders – and their son and daughter are grown. In 1946, at the age of 43, Pete is about to do something virtually unthinkable, especially for a man of his stature; commit a cold-blooded murder. He freely admits to his guilt; what he refuses to admit, though, is his motive. He will, he insists, go to his death – a very real possibility if he’s convicted by a jury – with his secret intact. His long-time family lawyer, nor his sister Flora, who lives on the farm, nor his children will ever hear the reason behind his action – at least never from his lips.
From that point on, much of the narrative focuses on Pete’s family background and what and how his children are doing, all of which takes place in a deep-South setting in which “coloreds” handle menial tasks and are not allowed to sit on the front porch of any home nor anywhere in a courtroom except the balcony. And of course, let’s not forget the section that details what happened to him in the war when he was part of the historic Bataan Death March in the Philippines. Even though I didn’t want to read it, I can’t imagine the research it took to pull all that together. In the final section, “The Betrayal,” readers, along with Pete’s two children – find out what really happened.
10. MA CARMEN review The Reckoning
4,5 ⭐
Llevaba unos cinco o seis años sin leer nada de John Grisham. Fui lectora suya durante mucho tiempo, pero llegó un momento en el que me resultaba repetitivo y dejé de leerlo. Este libro me llamó la atención y lo anoté como posible. Tras leer una reseña de un amigo por aquí me decidí a leerlo. Digamos que me he reconciliado con el autor.
Pete Banning era el hijo predilecto de Clanton, Mississippi. Héroe condecorado de la Segunda Guerra Mundial, patriarca de una notoria familia, granjero, padre, vecino y miembro incondicional de la iglesia metodista. Una mañana de octubre de 1946 se levantó temprano, condujo hasta la ciudad y allí cometió un asombroso crimen. Las únicas palabras que Pete pronunció ante el sheriff, sus abogados, el jurado, el juez y su familia fueron: «No tengo nada que decir». No temía a la muerte y estaba dispuesto a llevarse sus razones a la tumba. Hasta aquí lo que nos dice la sinopsis.
Mis impresiones
Es una novela muy diferente de lo que suele hacer Grisham. Tiene parte de thriller legal, pero lo importante no son los juicios. El acento lo pone en la historia del protagonista y en el contexto.
Se lee fácil. El estilo y el ritmo son los habituales en el autor. Engancha y las páginas pasan sin sentir.
- Me ha sorprendido la dureza de la trama, una dureza que se mantiene de principio a fin. Ambientada en Clanton, Mississippi, desde 1946 hasta 1950, está dividida en tres partes.
- En la primera “Asesinato”, nos narra como Pete Banning, decide asesinar al pastor metodista de su localidad. Tras el asesinato vendrán la detención y el juicio.
- En la segunda parte “Campo de huesos”, vamos a conocer la vida del protagonista, sus aspiraciones juveniles, su matrimonio y su movilización en Filipinas durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Grisham nos narra los acontecimientos de la marcha de la muerte de Bataan. Reconozco que, pese a todo lo que se ha escrito sobre el tema, lo conocía solo de pasada. El autor lo cuenta en toda su dureza y consigue poner los pelos de punta.
- En la tercera, “Traición”, vamos a conocer los motivos que Pete Banning tenía para cometer el crimen, así como las consecuencias para su familia.
Me ha gustado mucho la ambientación en ese Mississippi rural de los años cuarenta del pasado siglo. Refleja a la perfección el tema de los prejuicios raciales. Clanton es una localidad en la que casi nunca se ha cometido un crimen. En palabras de sus policías, alguna pelea y el linchamiento de un chico negro, pero claro eso no cuenta, no era ilegal colgar a un chico de color en esa época. Por muy sabido que lo tengamos leerlo así de crudo te deja helada.
Con respecto a los personajes, están bien trazados. No he conseguido empatizar con el protagonista. Por mucho que sufriera en la guerra, su intransigencia, su incapacidad de perdonar y sobre todo el desapego con el que contempla las consecuencias que sus actos les va a acarrear a sus hijos, ha hecho que me cayera antipático de principio a fin. Eso no significa que no sea un buen personaje. Está muy conseguido, de los mejores que ha creado este autor.
El final, bien y coherente con el resto de la trama.
En conclusión, una novela atípica de Grisham que me ha reconciliado con el autor. Recomendable.
III. [Quote] The Reckoning by John Grisham
The best book quotes from The Reckoning by John Grisham
“With approximately seventy thousand soldiers under his command, General King’s surrender was the largest in American history.”
“It would become known as the last cavalry charge in American military history.”
“Mr. John Wilbanks, a prominent lawyer in town and longtime friend of the Bannings.”
“Meanness does not inspire loyalty.”
“Mrs. Vanlandingham from across the street heard the commotion and came running, still holding a dish towel. She arrived just as the sheriff, Nix Gridley, wheeled into the parking lot and slid in the gravel.”
“Hearing the truth is like grabbing smoke in our family,”
“What a family,” he said softly.”
“People were classified, and often judged, by their denomination. And they were certainly condemned if they didn’t claim one.”
“Hearing the truth is like grabbing smoke in our family,” Joel said.”
“The family’s finances were in for uncertain times, and Joel wasn’t sure law school was feasible. Imagine, a Banning worried about money, and all because his father carried a grudge. Whatever the conflict between Pete and Reverend Bell, it wasn’t worth the damage.”
“Much to the concern of her parents, she began skipping church. They were devout Methodists who never missed a Sunday. Indeed, few people in their part of the world missed church and those who did were talked about.”
“Working for the Memphis Press-Scimitar, a cub reporter named Hardy Capley covered the trial from start to finish. His brother had been a POW during the war, and Hardy was intrigued by the presence of Clay Wampler, the Colorado cowboy who had served with Pete Banning in the Philippines”
“Between 1818 and 1940, the state hanged eight hundred people, 80 percent of whom were black. Those, of course, were the judicial hangings for rapists and murderers who had been processed through the courts. During that same period of time, approximately six hundred black men were lynched by mobs operating outside the legal system and thoroughly immune from any of its repercussions”
“nothing.” “Would you sign right here?” he asked, holding a sheet of paper and a pen. “For what?” “It says that you have been served with the lawsuit and you have it in your possession.” She signed, thanked him, and took the papers inside. An hour later, she barged into John Wilbanks’s office and charged up the stairs. She thrust the lawsuit at him and fell onto the sofa in tears. John lit a cigar as he calmly read the three-page pleading. “No real surprise here,” he said as he sat in a chair across from the sofa. “It seems as though we’ve discussed this as a possibility.” “A half a million dollars?” “An exaggeration,”
“Although he performed no acts of combat valor, as required by law, and left his troops behind, MacArthur was awarded the Medal of Honor for his gallant defense of the Philippines. The emaciated men he left on Bataan were in no condition to fight. They suffered from swelling joints, bleeding gums, numbness in feet and hands, low blood pressure, loss of body heat, shivers, shakes, and anemia so severe many could not walk.”
“James Lindsey, age fifty-three, married; occupation—none; address—a rural road out from the remote settlement of Box Hill, almost to Tyler County. His questionnaire said he was a Baptist. He had volunteered nothing during the morning session, and no one seemed to know anything about him. Neither John Wilbanks nor Miles Truitt wanted to waste a challenge, so James Lindsey became the first juror selected for the trial.”
“Do you have any bourbon?” “You’re too young for bourbon, Joel.” “I’m twenty,” he said, standing. “I’ll graduate from Vanderbilt next spring, then go to law school.” He was walking to the sofa where he’d left his duffel. “And I’m going to law school because I have no plans to become another farmer, regardless of what he wants.” He reached into his duffel and retrieved a flask. “I have no plans to live here, Aunt Florry, and I think you’ve known that for a long time.” He returned to the table, unscrewed the top of the flask, and took a swig. “Jack Daniel’s. Would you like some?”
“After the first week, Pete convinced Nix to appoint him a jail trusty, which meant his cell was not locked during the day and he could roam as he pleased as long as he did not leave the building”
“Pete became the trusty. As such, he served the much improved meals to the other four white prisoners, and to the six or seven black ones on the back side of the jail. Since all prisoners soon knew where the food was originating, Pete was a popular trusty. He organized work details to clean up the jail, and he paid for a plumber to modernize the equipment in both restrooms. For a few bucks, he devised a venting system to clear the smoke-clogged air, and everyone, even the smokers, breathed easier. He and a black prisoner overhauled the furnace and the cells were almost toasty at night. He slept hard, napped frequently, exercised on the hour, and encouraged his new pals to do likewise.”
“The Bannings were farmers and landowners, but they were workers, not gentrified planters with decadent lives made possible by the sweat of others.”
“Pete offered his reading materials to the others, but there was little interest. He suspected they were either fully or partially illiterate. To pass the time, he played poker with Leon Colliver, the moonshiner across the hall. Leon was not particularly bright, but he was sharp as hell at cards and Pete, who had mastered all card games in the army, had his hands full. Cribbage was his favorite, and Florry brought his cribbage board. Leon had never heard of the game, but absorbed it with no effort and within an hour was up a nickel.”
“Amonth after the death of her husband, Jackie Bell moved with her three children to her parents’ home in Rome, Georgia.”
“They were married on June 14, 1925. Joel was born on January 4, 1926, in an army hospital in Germany.”
“Her husband, a devout servant and follower of Christ, was reading his Bible and preparing his sermon, at church, when he was murdered. Why couldn’t God protect him, of all people? Upon deeper reflection, this often led to the more troubling question, one she never asked aloud: Is there really a God? The mere consideration of this as a passing thought frightened her, but she could not deny its existence.”
“she moved out and into a rental home on the other side of town. It was owned by a lawyer named Errol McLeish, a thirty-nine-year-old bachelor she had known years earlier at Rome High School.”
“In August of 1941, the United States supplied Japan with 80 percent of its oil. When President Roosevelt announced a complete oil embargo, Japan’s economic and military strength was imperiled.”
“I’m at a point in my life where I will not be yelled at.”
“She entered her home and stood in the kitchen, stopped cold by an aroma that was so thick and familiar it overwhelmed her: a mix of cigarette smoke and coffee, bacon grease, fruity pies and cakes, thick beef and venison stews that Nineva simmered on the stove for days, steam from the canning of stewed tomatoes and a dozen vegetables, wet leather from Pete’s boots in a corner, the sweet soapy smell of Nineva herself. Liza was staggered by the dense fragrances and leaned on a counter. In the darkness, she could hear the voices of her children as they giggled over breakfast and got themselves shooed away from the stove by Nineva. She could see Pete sitting there at the kitchen table with his coffee and cigarettes reading the Tupelo daily. A cloud moved somewhere and a ray of moonlight entered through a window. She focused and her kitchen came into view. She breathed as slowly as possible, sucking in the sweet smells of her former life.”
“In the first weeks of the Battle of Bataan, the Japanese incurred heavy losses as the Americans and Filipinos fought furiously to protect their last stronghold. The Allies incurred far fewer casualties, but their dead could not be replaced. The Japanese had an endless supply of men and armaments, and as the weeks wore on they bombarded their prey with heavy artillery and relentless air attacks.”
“Two quick beheadings. The Americans had never imagined anything like it. Pete was sickened and shocked and could not believe what was happening. His shock would wear off, though, as the murders became routine.”
“On the docket for October 21 was the usual laundry list: a domestic dispute that devolved into a severe beating; Chuck Manley and his alleged stolen car; a Negro who fired a pistol at another, and though he missed, the bullet shattered the window of a rural white church, which added gravity to the incident and elevated it to a felony; a con man from Tupelo who had blanketed the county with bad checks; a white man and a black woman who were caught in the act of enthusiastically violating the state’s antimiscegenation laws; and so on.”
“When the train arrived in Batesville, its sixth stop, at 4:15, Liza decided to get off.”
“Liza wiped some tears and decided to keep things dark. No one knew she was there and lights would only attract attention.”
“he spoke to Florry and passed along his condolences, or sympathies, or whatever the hell one is supposed to offer to the sister of a man who is charged with murder and appears guilty of it.”
“After a tragedy, those with even the slightest connections to it often exaggerate their involvement and importance.”
“The Philippines is a collection of seven thousand islands spread over a far-flung archipelago in the South China Sea.”
“I’ve killed a lot of men, Preacher, all brave soldiers on the field. You’re the first coward.” “Pete, no, no!” Dexter said, raising his hands and falling back into his chair, eyes wide and mouth open. “If it’s about Liza, I can explain. No, Pete!”
“Dexter’s wife, Jackie, was alone in the parsonage on the other side of the church,”
“Hop fell to his knees and pleaded, “Please, Mista Banning. I ain’t done nothin’. I got kids, Mista Banning.”
Excerpted from The Reckoning by John Grisham
Chapter 1 – The Reckoning
On a cold morning in early October of 1946, Pete Banning awoke before sunrise and had no thoughts of going back to sleep. For a long time he lay in the center of his bed, stared at the dark ceiling, and asked himself for the thousandth time if he had the courage. Finally, as the first trace of dawn peeked through a window, he accepted the solemn reality that it was time for the killing. The need for it had become so overwhelming that he could not continue with his daily routines. He could not remain the man he was until the deed was done. Its planning was simple, yet difficult to imagine. Its aftershocks would rattle on for decades and change the lives of those he loved and many of those he didn’t. Its notoriety would create a legend, though he certainly wanted no fame. Indeed, as was his nature, he wished to avoid the attention, but that would not be possible. He had no choice. The truth had slowly been revealed, and once he had the full grasp of it, the killing became as inevitable as the sunrise.
He dressed slowly, as always, his war‑wounded legs stiff and painful from the night, and made his way through the dark house to the kitchen, where he turned on a dim light and brewed his coffee. As it percolated, he stood ramrod straight beside the breakfast table, clasped his hands behind his head, and gently bent both knees. He grimaced as pain radiated from his hips to his ankles, but he held the squat for ten seconds. He relaxed, did it again and again, each time sinking lower. There were metal rods in his left leg and shrapnel in his right.
Pete poured coffee, added milk and sugar, and walked outside onto the back porch, where he stood at the steps and looked across his land. The sun was breaking in the east and a yellowish light cast itself across the sea of white. The fields were thick and heavy with cotton that looked like fallen snow, and on any other day Pete would manage a smile at what would certainly be a bumper crop. But there would be no smiles on this day; only tears, and lots of them. To avoid the killing, though, would be an act of cowardice, a notion unknown to his being. He sipped his coffee and admired his land and was comforted by its security. Below the blanket of white was a layer of rich black topsoil that had been owned by Bannings for over a hundred years. Those in power would take him away and would probably execute him, but his land would endure forever and support his family.
Mack, his bluetick hound, awoke from his slumber and joined him on the porch. Pete spoke to him and rubbed his head.
The cotton was bursting in the bolls and straining to be picked, and before long teams of field hands would load into wagons for the ride to the far acres. As a boy, Pete rode in the wagon with the Negroes and pulled a cotton sack twelve hours a day. The Bannings were farmers and landowners, but they were workers, not gentrified planters with decadent lives made possible by the sweat of others.
He sipped his coffee and watched the fallen snow grow whiter as the sky brightened. In the distance, beyond the cattle barn and the chicken coop, he heard the voices of the Negroes as they were gathering at the tractor shed for another long day. They were men and women he had known his entire life, dirt‑poor field hands whose ancestors had toiled the same land for a century. What would happen to them after the killing? Nothing, really. They had survived with little and knew nothing else. Tomorrow, they would gather in stunned silence at the same time in the same place, and whisper over the fire, then head to the fields, worried, no doubt, but also eager to pursue their labors and collect their wages. The harvest would go on, undisturbed and abundant.
He finished his coffee, placed the cup on a porch rail, and lit a cigarette. He thought of his children. Joel was a senior at Vanderbilt and Stella was in her second year at Hollins, and he was thankful they were away. He could almost feel their fear and shame at their father being in jail, but he was confident they would survive, like the field hands. They were intelligent and well‑adjusted, and they would always have the land. They would finish their education, marry well, and prosper.
As he smoked he picked up his coffee cup, returned to the kitchen, and stepped to the phone to call his sister, Florry. It was a Wednesday, the day they met for breakfast, and he confirmed that he would be there before long. He poured out the dregs, lit another cigarette, and took his barn jacket off a hook by the door. He and Mack walked across the backyard to a trail that led past the garden where Nineva and Amos grew an abundance of vegetables to feed the Bannings and their dependents. He passed the cattle barn and heard Amos talking to the cows as he prepared to milk them. Pete said good morning, and they discussed a certain fat hog that had been selected for a gutting come Saturday.
He walked on, with no limp, though his legs ached. At the tractor shed, the Negroes were gathered around a fire pit as they bantered and sipped coffee from tin cups. When they saw him they grew silent. Several offered “Mornin’, Mista Banning,” and he spoke to them. The men wore old, dirty overalls; the women, long dresses and straw hats. No one wore shoes. The children and teenagers sat near a wagon, huddled under a blanket, sleepy‑eyed and solemn‑faced, dreading another long day picking cotton.
There was a school for Negroes on the Banning land, one made possible by the generosity of a rich Jew from Chicago, and Pete’s father had put up enough in matching funds to see it built. The Bannings insisted that all the colored children on their land study at least through the eighth grade. But in October, when nothing mattered but the picking, the school was closed and the students were in the fields.
Pete spoke quietly with Buford, his white foreman. They discussed the weather, the tonnage picked the day before, the price of cotton on the Memphis exchange. There were never enough pickers during peak season, and Buford was expecting a truckload of white workers from Tupelo. He had expected them the day before but they did not show. There was a rumor that a farmer two miles away was offering a nickel more per pound, but such talk was always rampant during the harvest. Picking crews worked hard one day, disappeared the next, and then came back as prices fluctuated. The Negroes, though, did not have the advantage of shopping around, and the Bannings were known to pay everyone the same.
The two John Deere tractors sputtered to life, and the field hands loaded into the wagons. Pete watched them rock and sway as they disappeared deep into the fallen snow.
He lit another cigarette and walked with Mack past the shed and along a dirt road. Florry lived a mile away on her section of land, and these days Pete always went there on foot. The exercise was painful, but the doctors had told him that long walks would eventually fortify his legs and the pain might one day subside. He doubted that, and had accepted the reality that his legs would burn and ache for the rest of his life, a life he was lucky to have. He had once been presumed dead, and had indeed come very close to the end, so every day was a gift.
Until now. Today would be the last day of his life as he knew it, and he had accepted this. He had no choice.
………
Florry lived in a pink cottage she had built after their mother died and left them the land. She was a poet with no interest in farming but had a keen interest in the income it generated. Her section, 640 acres, was just as fertile as Pete’s, and she leased it to him for half the profits. It was a handshake arrangement, one as ironclad as any thick contract, and grounded on implicit trust.
When he arrived, she was in the backyard, walking through her aviary of chicken wire and netting, scattering feed as she chatted to her assortment of parrots, parakeets, and toucans. Beside the bird haven was a hutch where she kept a dozen chickens. Her two golden retrievers sat on the grass, watching the feeding with no interest in the exotic birds. Her house was filled with cats, creatures neither Pete nor the dogs cared for.
He pointed to a spot on the front porch and told Mack to rest there, then went inside. Marietta was busy in the kitchen and the house smelled of fried bacon and corn cakes. He said good morning to her and took a seat at the breakfast table. She poured him coffee and he began reading the Tupelo morning paper. From the old phonograph in the living room, a soprano wailed in operatic misery. He often wondered how many other folks in Ford County listened to opera.
When Florry was finished with her birds, she came in the rear door, said good morning to her brother, and sat across from him. There were no hugs, no affection. To those who knew them, the Bannings were thought to be cold and distant, devoid of warmth and rarely emotional. This was true but not intentional; they had simply been raised that way.
Florry was forty‑eight and had survived a brief and bad marriage as a young woman. She was one of the few divorced women in the county and thus looked down upon, as if somehow damaged and perhaps immoral. Not that she cared; she didn’t. She had a few friends and seldom left her property. Behind her back she was often referred to as the Bird Lady, and not affectionately.
Marietta served them thick omelets with tomatoes and spinach, corn cakes bathed with butter, bacon, and strawberry jam. Except for the coffee, sugar, and salt, everything on the table came from their soil.
Florry said, “I received a letter from Stella yesterday. She seems to be doing fine, though struggling with calculus. She prefers literature and history. She is so much like me.”
Pete’s children were expected to write at least one letter a week to their aunt, who wrote to them at least twice a week. Pete wasn’t much for letters and had told them not to bother. However, writing to their aunt was a strict requirement.
“Haven’t heard from Joel,” she said.
“I’m sure he’s busy,” Pete said as he flipped a page of the news‑ paper. “Is he still seeing that girl?”
“I suppose. He’s much too young for romance, Pete, you should say something to him.”
“He won’t listen.” Pete took a bite of his omelet. “I just want him to hurry up and graduate. I’m tired of paying tuition.”
“I suppose the picking is going well,” she said. She had hardly touched her food.
“Could be better, and the price dropped again yesterday. There’s too much cotton this year.”
“The price goes up and down, doesn’t it? When the price is high there’s not enough cotton and when it’s low there’s too much of it. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”
“I suppose.” He had toyed with the idea of warning his sister of what was to come, but she would react badly, beg him not to do it, become hysterical, and they would fight, something they had not done in years. The killing would change her life dramatically, and on the one hand he pitied her and felt an obligation to explain. But on the other, he knew that it could not be explained, and attempting to do so would serve no useful purpose.
The thought that this could be their last meal together was difficult to comprehend, but then most things that morning were being done for the last time.
They were obliged to discuss the weather and this went on for a few minutes. According to the almanac, the next two weeks would be cool and dry, perfect for picking. Pete offered the same concerns about the lack of field hands, and she reminded him that this complaint was common every season. Indeed, last week over omelets he had lamented the shortage of temporary workers.
Pete was not one to linger over food, especially on this awful day. He had been starved during the war and knew how little the body needed to survive. A thin frame kept weight off his legs. He chewed a bite of bacon, sipped his coffee, turned another page, and listened as Florry went on about a cousin who had just died at ninety, too soon in her opinion. Death was on his mind and he wondered what the Tupelo paper would say about him in the days to come. There would be stories, and perhaps a lot of them, but he had no desire to attract attention. It was inevitable, though, and he feared the sensational.
“You’re not eating much,” she said. “And you’re looking a bit thin.”
“Not much of an appetite,” he replied. “How much are you smoking?”
“As much as I want.”
He was forty‑three, and, at least in her opinion, looked older. His thick dark hair was graying above his ears, and long wrinkles were forming across his forehead. The dashing young soldier who’d gone off to war was aging too fast. His memories and burdens were heavy, but he kept them to himself. The horrors he had survived would never be discussed, not by him anyway.
Once a month he forced himself to ask about her writing, her poetry. A few pieces had been published in obscure literary magazines in the last decade, but not much. In spite of her lack of success, she loved nothing more than to bore her brother, his children, and her small circle of friends with the latest developments in her career. She could prattle on forever about her “projects,” or about certain editors who loved her poetry but just couldn’t seem to find room for it, or fan letters she had received from around the world. Her following was not that wide, and Pete suspected the lone letter from some lost soul in New Zealand three years earlier was still the only one that arrived with a foreign stamp.
He didn’t read poetry, and after being forced to read his sister’s he had sworn off the stuff forever. He preferred fiction, especially from southern writers, and especially William Faulkner, a man he’d met before the war at a cocktail party in Oxford.
This morning was not the time to discuss it. He was facing an ugly chore, a monstrous deed, one that could not be avoided or postponed any longer.
He shoved his plate away, his food half‑eaten, and finished his coffee. “Always a pleasure,” he said with a smile as he stood. He thanked Marietta, put on his barn coat, and left the cottage. Mack was waiting on the front steps. From the porch Florry called good‑bye to him as he walked away and waved without turning around.
Back on the dirt road he lengthened his stride and shook off the stiffness caused by half an hour of sitting. The sun was up and burning off the dew, and all around the thick bolls sagged on the stems and begged to be picked. He walked on, a lonely man whose days were numbered.
………
Nineva was in the kitchen, at the gas stove stewing the last tomatoes for canning. He said good morning, poured fresh coffee, and took it to his study, where he sat at his desk and arranged his papers. All bills were paid. All accounts were current and in order. The bank statements were reconciled and showed sufficient cash on hand. He wrote a one‑page letter to his wife, addressed and stamped the envelope. He placed a checkbook and some files in a briefcase and left it beside his desk. From a bottom drawer he withdrew his Colt .45 revolver, checked to make sure all six chambers were loaded, and stuck it in the pocket of his barn jacket.
At eight o’clock, he told Nineva he was going to town and asked if she needed anything. She did not, and he left the front porch with Mack behind him. He opened the door to his new 1946 Ford pickup, and Mack jumped onto the passenger’s side of the bench seat. Mack rarely missed a ride to town and today would be no different, at least for the dog.
The Banning home, a splendid Colonial Revival built by Pete’s parents before the crash in 1929, sat on Highway 18, south of Clanton. The county road had been paved the year before with postwar federal money. The locals believed that Pete had used his clout to secure the funding, but it wasn’t true.
Clanton was four miles away, and Pete drove slowly, as always. There was no traffic, except for an occasional mule‑drawn trailer laden with cotton and headed for the gin. A few of the county’s larger farmers, like Pete, owned tractors, but most of the hauling was still done by mules, as were the plowing and planting. All picking was by hand. The John Deere and International Harvester corporations were trying to perfect mechanized pickers that would supposedly one day eliminate the need for so much manual labor, but Pete had his doubts. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered but the task at hand.
Cotton blown from the trailers littered the shoulders of the highway. Two sleepy‑eyed colored boys loitered by a field road and waved as they admired his truck, one of two new Fords in the county. Pete did not acknowledge them. He lit a cigarette and said something to Mack as they entered the town.
Near the courthouse square he parked in front of the post office and watched the foot traffic come and go. He wished to avoid people he knew, or those who might know him, because after the killing any witnesses were apt to offer such banal observations as “I saw him and he seemed perfectly normal,” while the next one might say, “Bumped into him at the post office and he had a deranged look about him.” After a tragedy, those with even the slightest connections to it often exaggerate their involvement and importance.
He eased from his truck, walked to the letter box, and mailed the envelope to his wife. Driving away, he circled the courthouse, with its wide, shaded lawn and gazebos, and had a vague image of what a spectacle his trial might be. Would they haul him in with handcuffs? Would the jury show sympathy? Would his lawyers work some magic and save him? Too many questions with no answers. He passed the Tea Shoppe, where the lawyers and bankers held forth each morning over scalding coffee and buttermilk biscuits, and wondered what they would say about the killing. He avoided the coffee shop because he was a farmer and had no time for the idle chitchat.
Let them talk. He expected little sympathy from them or from anyone else in the county for that matter. He cared nothing for sympathy, sought no understanding, had no plans to explain his actions. At the moment, he was a soldier with orders and a mission to carry out.
He parked on a quiet street a block behind the Methodist church. He got out, stretched his legs for a moment, zipped up his barn jacket, told Mack that he would return shortly, and began walking toward the church his grandfather had helped build seventy years earlier. It was a short walk, and along the way he saw no one. Later, no one would claim to have seen him.
……….
The Reverend Dexter Bell had been preaching at the Clanton Methodist Church since three months before Pearl Harbor. It was the third church of his ministry, and he would have been rotated onward like all Methodist preachers but for the war. Shortages in the ranks had caused a shifting of duties, an upsetting of schedules. Normally, in the Methodist denomination, a minister lasted only two years in one church, sometimes three, before being reassigned. Reverend Bell had been in Clanton for five years and knew it was only a matter of time before he was called to move on. Unfortunately, the call did not arrive in time.
He was sitting at his desk in his office, in an annex behind the handsome sanctuary, alone as usual on Wednesday morning. The church secretary worked only three afternoons each week. The reverend had finished his morning prayers, had his study Bible open on his desk, along with two reference books, and was contemplating his next sermon when someone knocked on his door. Before he could answer, the door swung open, and Pete Banning walked in, frowning and filled with purpose.
Surprised at the intrusion, Bell said, “Well, good morning, Pete.” He was about to stand when Pete whipped out a pistol with a long barrel and said, “You know why I’m here.”
Bell froze and gawked in horror at the weapon and barely managed to say, “Pete, what are you doing?”
“I’ve killed a lot of men, Preacher, all brave soldiers on the field. You’re the first coward.”
“Pete, no, no!” Dexter said, raising his hands and falling back into his chair, eyes wide and mouth open. “If it’s about Liza, I can explain. No, Pete!”
Pete took a step closer, aimed down at Dexter, and squeezed the trigger. He had been trained as a marksman with all firearms, and had used them in battle to kill more men than he cared to remember, and he had spent his life in the woods hunting animals large and small. The first shot went through Dexter’s heart, as did the second. The third entered his skull just above the nose.
Within the walls of a small office, the shots boomed like cannon fire, but only two people heard them. Dexter’s wife, Jackie, was alone in the parsonage on the other side of the church, cleaning the kitchen when she heard the noise. She later described it as the muffled sounds of someone clapping hands three times, and, at the moment, had no idea it was gunfire. She couldn’t possibly have known her husband had just been murdered.
Hop Purdue had been cleaning the church for twenty years. He was in the annex when he heard the shots that seemed to shake the building. He was standing in the hallway outside the pastor’s study when the door opened and Pete walked out, still holding the pistol. He raised it, aimed it at Hop’s face, and seemed ready to fire. Hop fell to his knees and pleaded, “Please, Mista Banning. I ain’t done nothin’. I got kids, Mista Banning.”
Pete lowered the gun and said, “You’re a good man, Hop. Go tell the sheriff.”
….
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