Page 90 of The 1 Lawyer

The cop returned the gun to his holster; I lowered my hands, walked over to my front door, and tore off the paper the cop had stuck to it. Belatedly, the cop said, “We’ve got a warrant, Stafford Lee.”

I looked at the document. Unbelievable. They did, in fact, have a warrant, a warrant to search my house.

The door was hanging off the hinges. Pointing at it, I demanded, “What possessed you to come busting in here like that?”

The cop who’d taped up the warrant appeared to be the officer in charge, and I knew him. I had cross-examined Sergeant Gorski on the witness stand on many occasions.

He said unapologetically, “Come on, Penney—we knocked first. No one responded. We’re empowered by law to enter the premises to execute a warrant, you know that.”

The other officers stood by, poised to take me down if I made trouble. Gorski cleared his throat and said, “Stafford Lee Penney, are you the person in control of these premises?”

“Cut the bullshit, Sergeant. You know it’s my goddamn house!” I was too angry to be intimidated. My hands were shaking, but I wasn’t afraid; I was furious. Still, though I was almost blinded by rage, I didn’t lose sight of how unwise it would be to tell them to get the hell out.

So instead I said, “This is an illegal entry.”

Gorski scoffed and turned away. “Read it, Penney. It’s signed by a judge. Authorizes a search of these premises for evidence related to the murder of Iris Caro.”

While the cops trooped down the hall, I tried to make sense of the document. The words swam across the page; the only thing I could comprehend was the signature. The judge who’d signed the warrant was Eckhardt. He’d authorized the search of the residence of Rue Holmes at my address in Biloxi.

The officers were stomping through every corner of my home. I ran into the hall and shouted, “Tell me what you’re looking for!”

I saw one of the cops open the door of the bedroom I’d shared with Carrie Ann, and my outrage exploded, making my vision gray out at the edges. I yelled, “Don’t! Do not enter that room. You have no right.” I ran down the hall, shoving past one of the other officers who stood by, eyeing me with suspicion.

I stopped in the open doorway of the main bedroom, still unwilling to enter that space. The officer had thrown open a closet door and was aiming a flashlight beam inside. At the sight, I felt my throat tighten. “Get out of this room,” I choked out. “No one stays in here. Not since my wife—” I couldn’t say her name aloud, not in his presence. “Whatever you’re looking for, it’s not in here, I swear to God.”

The young cop ignored me, so I went off in search of Gorski, hoping to convince him to back off. He probably had the power to limit the scope of their intrusion. Maybe if I used the right words, I could persuade him of the futility of his pursuit.

I found Gorski in Rue’s bedroom, pawing through the contents of her dresser drawers. I said, trying to sound reasonable, “I’ve read through your warrant, Gorski. I guarantee that it’s illegal and overbroad, and the language is too general. Come on, Gorski! You know the Fourth Amendment. It prohibits the kind of search you are doing right now.”

When he paid me no heed, I stepped up to the dresser. “Your search won’t stand up in court, I swear it. Why don’t you tell me what you’re hunting for? Maybe I’ll know where it is. I’m not consenting to anything, I’m just trying to figure out what it is that you want.”

“Get out of here, Penney.” He gave me a look of warning. “I won’t tell you again.”

I backed out of the room and walked down the hall. When I passed the bathroom, I saw they’d already been inside, had thrown towels out of the cabinet and onto the floor. The next room I passed was the bedroom I currently used. An officer was on his hands and knees in my closet, digging through shoeboxes. My clothes and underwear were strewn across the floor. He’d dumped the contents of the hamper onto the rug.

Standing in the doorway, I said, “This is a violation of my constitutional rights.”

My voice startled the guy, and his hand went to the gun in his holster. He turned to me, and I didn’t like the expression on his face. I stepped out of the doorway because I didn’t want to become a search-warrant fatality. But I kept talking. “Have you ever been subpoenaed to testify at a hearing on a motion to suppress? Because you’ll be on that witness stand for certain if you dare to take one single item out of my house. I’ll serve you personally, cross-examine you myself. I’ll take the hide off you, man.”

He just snorted, bent back into my closet, and continued to dig.

Gorski came up behind me. “Penney, I’m giving you one last chance. If you keep on hindering and obstructing, I’m gonna kick your ass and haul you in. That’s a promise.”

I almost gave him a shove—I was this close to doing it. But he had a Taser on his belt, and a nightstick, and a gun. I’d lost one physical battle with the Biloxi PD in the past calendar year. I wasn’t eager for a rematch.

So I went back to the living room and collapsed on the sofa. Then I picked up my phone and called Rue’s mother. She was devastated by the news, but I had to keep the conversation brief. With the noise and commotion the police were making, it was impossible for me to sound reassuring. After I ended the call, two officers descended on the living room. One cop flipped up the lid of Carrie Ann’s piano bench and flung sheet music onto the floor. This time, I kept my mouth shut and just watched the carnage unfold.

CHAPTER 71

I WAS stretched out on the hard leather couch in the reception area of my office. My clothes were rumpled; I’d slept in the shirt and pants that I’d worn to meet the law school’s dean the day before. My suit coat was rolled up on the armrest, a makeshift pillow, but it hadn’t provided much of a cushion. Also, the couch was short. My bare feet hung over the side.

Someone rattled the knob on the office door. I remained in my spot on the couch. I was in no mood to greet the public, not after the past twenty-four hours.

But when I heard the lock turn, I rolled over and raised myself up on my elbows. Only two people had keys to my office: Jenny and Rue. I knew that Rue wasn’t on the other side of that door. She was locked up tight at the city jail. So I wasn’t surprised when Jenny walked in. She carried her purse and a McDonald’s bag in one hand. As she shut the door, she said, “What on earth, Stafford Lee? Have you been here all night?”

“Yes, ma’am, I have.” I sat up with a groan and set my bare feet on the floor.

“Why did you sleep in your office?”

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