The quiet of the courthouse square
was broken only by the throaty staccato of autos accelerating away from the
traffic lights. In the shade of the big
elms in the courthouse yard blowflies and see-me-nots lurked ready to alight
upon an unwary dawdler. But such people
who did enter upon the grounds hurried on to the courthouse where they had been
summoned, through duty or curiosity, to attend a coroner’s inquest.
Standing in front of the judge’s
bench in the courtroom he had appropriated for the occasion, the coroner,
George Conley, watched the people file in and was disappointed by the
turnout. It was still the largest
assemblage he had addressed in his duties, which he had assumed five years
previously. It was the first case he had
handled of this nature – where murder was strongly indicated and rumored, but
which the principal just as strongly denied.
He bestirred himself to throw off
these musings. It was not for him to
prejudge the matter. He prided himself
on his fairness. And he must conduct the
proceedings in an unbiased manner.
The jury had been called from the
voting rolls. He knew most of them. Some of their relatives attended just for the
pleasure of watching them in their unaccustomed roles. The men wore white shirts and ties. They had their sleeves rolled up in deference
to the heat. The four ladies wore light
cotton and organdy and each had a fan waving in her face. They wanted to get started before they finished
wilting in the heat and telltale sweat stains appeared under their powdered
armpits.
Once again, he looked over the
gathering, which was becoming restless, and decided to begin. He had rehearsed his opening remarks and he
hoped that they would go smoothly and establish his authority and control over
the inquest proceedings. He moved
slowly, but he hoped, not furtively, to confront the jurors.
“Ahem, ladies and gentlemen, as
county coroner it is my duty to inquire, with the help of a jury, yourselves,
into the cause of any death that appears to be due to unnatural or suspicious
causes. You have been called here today
to hear testimony upon the death of one Morgan Hargett, a well-known citizen of
this county, whose body was recovered August the seventh from a pit inside a
cave three miles below Grants Ferry near Barren River. Those persons who have knowledge of the
circumstances of the incident have been summoned, and any other person knowing
of his movements or state of mind in the hours preceding his death, or who can
shed light upon the matter in any way, is asked to come forward and give a
statement.”
He paused briefly for effect and
looked over the limp but attentive crowd before continuing.
“We shall attempt to reconstruct
his movements and arrive at a finding. I
shall question each of the witnesses following their testimony, and after I am
done, each juror will have the opportunity to ask additional questions.”
He was pleased with this opening
and greatly anticipated what was to follow.
He felt like a maestro conducting a primo performance of a great play or
opera. He had chosen carefully how to
line up his witnesses to build to a climax.