[Trial Day: 11. Working days to Alabama primary: 13]
Springtime in Alabama, 2006: Memories of Birmingham.
Half the world away, in another trial at another time, we would gather at the Hugo Black courthouse. The courtroom was eight floors up, and standing there in the morning, waiting for the morning session to begin—which was always late—you were immersed in the Birmingham skyline, a place they called the Magic City. There were large monuments to the New South: The AmSouth, SouthTrust and BellSouth buildings. And way down on the steps, there was always a bank of cameras which had come to document Richard Scrushy’s trial and his ultimate conviction. That’s what they came for anyway. Sometimes the view through the lens doesn’t always match the view that was so clear with the eye. Sometimes that happens. And on the steps down there, people would gather like bugs: Blue for NBC, red for ABC and the light and dark couple, joined at the hands, was Mr. and Mrs. Scrushy. Sometimes the prosecutors would stop by to chat, usually Alice Martin, and at other times, they would hurriedly walk on by, dragging their boxes on wheels. Lewis Gillis would often step up to the mic for the defense, but sometimes, Leach or Parkman would say a few words, especially if Parkman was in a good mood or was spoiling for a fight. Time went on like that, through the cool and damp Birmingham winter through the magnolia blooms into the summer. Death and rebirth. Scrushy was acquitted. All the reporters went home. And three seasons later, there was another assembly in another place. Fewer reporters and only a couple mobile cameras have the beautiful Montgomery courthouse staked out. The courtroom is on the second floor, which has massive tall windows that face the circular front courtyard that leads to the steps and the entrance. Standing up there, and looking out through those big windows, it is like watching a movie—a large scale drama with a quiet tone—unfold on the bricks below. A few lawyers at a time, from the twenty or so assembled, stroll in to view, making their entrances. Vince Kilborn usually has a few words at the mic, flanked by his firm’s David McDonald. The prosecution’s Louis Franklin sometimes steps up and occasionally Art Leach or Terry Butts says a few words on Scrushy’s behalf. Paul Hamrick and his wife slip by unnoticed. So does Mac Roberts. Richard and Leslie Scrushy stroll up hand in hand. They always stop to make an appearance for their public. He is usually genial in the morning and sometimes bitter or biting in the evening. It is a well-known pattern that accurately reflects the two sides of Richard Scrushy, the opposing faces that are often at war with each other. And then there is Governor Siegelman and his wife, stopping by to make a campaign appearance on his way to a meeting. Something like that. His appointed meeting will soon convene in a courtroom on the second floor. Lucy Baxley, his opponent in the Democratic primary, has to pay for all of her promotional spots, but Governor Siegelman goes out on the radio every day and often has free TV “ads” as well. Who needs Nick Bailey and Lanny Young and an absolute agreement? A source close to the campaign (a couple rows back anyway) said that the campaign’s biggest event is here, indicating the marble walls and rows of oak benches. A politician, a minister and a whole bunch of lawyers: A giant tableau quietly unfolds on the red brick courtyard, and it streams by the fountain, into the glass doors under the watchful eye of “Reggie” the massive concrete eagle. It won’t be long until the cameras will be gone, taking the reporters with them, and the rest of the people too. There will be other views from this window, and we’ll assemble somewhere else in another time, another place, another season.
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