Then It s Time to Kill Again

Many years ago, as a younger lawyer, I was crossing the street to the Courthouse when I met a familiar Black adult female. We exchanged pleasantries, and she flattered me. "You sure practice look like that lawyer on that motion-picture show, 'A Time to Impale.'"

I appreciated the compliment, though I'm not sure how Matthew McConaughey, who played the lawyer in the motion-picture show, would feel about the comparison.

And contrary to the motion-picture show's title, I'm also not certain at that place's always a fourth dimension to kill.

That encounter years agone came to mind recently as I spent most of the day in the courtroom. Nosotros had a sentencing hearing on a murder case. I sabbatum in our office hallway – information technology empties into the court – weighing the importance of what was about to unfold.

Sitting next to me was a precious 7-year-old daughter. Children are not allowed in the court because of COVID-19, so she perched in that location, with a view through the open door. She is a beautiful child – a smile every bit bright equally the North Star, eyes as vivid as any van Gogh sheet, and the sweet disposition of a Disney princess. She reminds me of my youngest daughter – loving, cheerful and compassionate. She melts me.

We talked for a minute about school and how much she loves math. Her bow and barrette swashing atop her head, she sheepishly looked upwardly at me, then back downward to the flooring, grinning. Nosotros laughed for a few minutes. She was a refreshing distraction from the heaviness of the room.

My thoughts drifted back to the murder case. During the trial, the defendant claimed the killing was justified. He admitted he shot the victim, who was unarmed, but insisted the victim was a threat to him. That it was a time to kill.

In the picture show "A Time to Kill," Carl Lee Hailey, a Black Mississippian, killed two white men in cold blood. Hailey killed them because they beat, raped and hung his girl. On the witness stand, Hailey exclaimed, "Yes, I killed 'em! And I promise they burn in hell!" He thought it was a time to kill.

As I drifted deeper into my thoughts, I felt a gentle, small hand take mine. I turned as she grasped my paw tighter, and tears rolled downwardly her face up. Leaning over, I put my arm around her, "Babe, what's wrong?"

"I miss him. Why did he have to dice? I miss him so much and I'g just …" Her vocalisation broke. She turned her optics to the flooring and wiped her tears with her sleeve.

I didn't take an reply. I struggled for words to tell a seven-year-old how to ease her pain, but I surely wanted to have it all from her. She melted me.

She didn't think it was a time to impale.

The bailiff gave me a familiar head nod: The judge was coming. I gave my fiddling friend a big hug, and told her I had to become to work, just that I'd exist back. She looked upwards at me, as if she saw hope in what I was about to do. Little did she know, I saw promise in her.

During the hearing, the defendant's lawyer tried to mitigate the circumstances, suggesting that the victim had faults which contributed to killing and, but for those faults, no death would take occurred. He suggested in that location was a time to kill.

I responded by reminding the courtroom that Phillip Parker, the defendant, could have called the constabulary; that he could take stayed inside instead of advancing on the victim; that he secreted himself and ambushed the victim. And and then, I reminded the guess that my victim's life mattered.

And it did. And information technology still does.

He was a father. He was a son. He was a brother. He was a human being. His life had value. His life mattered to that little girl; her flushed cheeks and tears evidenced that.

In the motion-picture show, in his closing arguments of the case, Matthew McConaughey asked the jury members to close their eyes. He methodically recounted the gruesome experience that Carl Lee Hailey's daughter suffered. Finishing with a clarification of her being tossed off a bridge, McConaughey asked the jurors, "Can you see her? Can you see her laying there, claret soaked, semen soaked, urine soaked … battered and browbeaten? Tin can you see her?" Jurors began to weep.

"Now imagine she was white," he said. Several jurors were visibly shaken by the notion.

My little friend – can you come across her? With her beautiful smile and eyes so total of life, her long hair and pretty bows. Can you meet her? Her proper noun is Amani – and she is a little Black girl.

Did you imagine she was white?

Tekevious Best's life mattered to his sis Klarissa, a social worker from North Carolina. His life mattered to his other sister, Dacia, a college student. His life mattered to his ii children, Promise and Trey. His life mattered to Florala Police Main Sonny Bedsole and ALEA Agent Chris Inabinett, and Sheriff'southward Investigator Mike Irwin.

His life mattered to his little cousin, Amani. His life mattered to me.

It was not a fourth dimension to impale.

Unlike in the picture, our jury constitute Parker guilty of murdering Tekevious Best. Our jury agreed: This was non a fourth dimension to kill.

I don't know what I would practice if someone raped my girl. Perhaps the same thing Carl Lee Hailey did, but it wouldn't be correct. Vengeance is not meant to be ours, says the Lord.

It's never a time to rape or kill, regardless of skin color.

It's never a time to kill a man simply because he is Blackness.

It's never a time to kill a police officer simply because of her job.

It'southward never a time to impale someone because he busted out a window.

Information technology was not a time to kill Tekevious Best.

I don't know if at that place is ever a time to kill.

I am heartbroken. I work every day to combat the evil of this globe, and I don't care well-nigh someone'southward skin colour. Evil doesn't have a color. Neither does a victim's grief.

Recently, I feared evil was winning. It seemed that because of the chaos in the world, no ane was willing to listen or to talk. I was reminded of an old expression: "I'm sorry, I can't hear what you lot are proverb because your deportment are too loud."

Only then, Amani took my hand. Every bit tears rolled downwardly her face, she sought condolement from me. She didn't care what color my pare was. And I didn't intendance what colour hers was, either. In fact, I couldn't see the colour of her pare. I was too fixated on the hope I saw in her eyes.

Can you come across it? Can you see the hope of the next generation? I pray you tin can, considering nosotros all need to pursue it –  together.

There is never a time to impale the promise of a child.

Walt Merrell is district attorney for Covington County. You tin can follow him on Facebook at @waltmerrellda.

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Source: https://www.montgomeryadvertiser.com/story/opinion/2020/06/22/there-really-ever-a-time-kill/3213457001/

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