“What do you want me to do?” Mr. Fussleman asked when I finished.
“Tell Judge Cannon that as one of the dock owners, you support releasing Mr. Jones for time already served in jail, and in the future would allow him to tie up for the night at your dock so long as he didn’t interfere with your use of the facilities or cause any damage to your property.”
“I want to meet Mr. Jones before I agree to anything, but I don’t think I have any objection to releasing him from jail.” He hesitated a moment before continuing, “But I can’t agree to let him use my dock.”
My face fell.
“Unless he checks with me first,” he finished.
“It may be late at night,” I replied.
“I’m usually up past eleven. If it’s later than that, he will have to pole his boat back down the river.”
His proposal was more than fair.
“Can we meet with Moses?” I asked Zach.
“Let’s try.”
We returned to the courtroom.
“There’s Maggie Smith,” Zach said.
There were three female members of the district attorney’s staff stacking up files at one of the tables used by the lawyers.
“Which one?”
“The shorter one with brown hair.”
Zach ushered Mr. Fussleman to a seat directly behind the railing. We approached Ms. Smith. Zach extended his hand.
“We met at a young lawyers section meeting last year,” he said. “You may not remember me—”
“It’s hard not to notice a male lawyer in Savannah with long hair who rides a motorcycle.”
I glanced down. Ms. Smith wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
“One of the dock owners, a Mr. Fussleman, is here,” Zach said. “He’d like to meet our client.”
“Why?”
Zach turned to me, and I explained our purpose. Smith shrugged.
“Okay. If none of the other dock owners show up, I won’t oppose a guilty plea for time served as long as there is a period of probation. I don’t want Jones claiming ownership of a dock by adverse possession.”
“Will you support the plea?” Zach asked.
Smith looked at Zach and smiled. “No, but I’ll be very clear that I don’t oppose it.”
“Thanks,” he said.
We returned to the area where the lawyers were sitting. Vince and Russell Hopkins, his supervising attorney, were at the opposite end of our row. A side door opened, and a long line of prisoners wearing jail uniforms entered. Toward the end of the line I saw Moses. None of the men in his group were shackled. A smaller group in leg irons and handcuffs followed.
“Why are some of them wearing handcuffs?” I asked Zach.
“Probably felony cases. Moses and the others are the misdemeanor, nonviolent cases.”
Moses saw me and smiled. It made me feel creepy.
“Let’s talk to the deputy,” Zach said.
Zach went up to one of the deputies I recognized from my visits to the jail and told him about Mr. Fussleman. The deputy motioned to Moses.
“You can talk to him at the end of the row,” the deputy said. “But you’d better make it quick. The judge will be here in a minute, and he’ll want everyone in their places.”
“Get Fussleman,” Zach told me. “I’ll tell Moses what we’re trying to do.”
I brought Mr. Fussleman over. Zach was whispering into Moses’ ear.
“What dock be yours?” Moses asked Fussleman.
“The one with the blue and white boat.”
Moses nodded. “Yes sir. That’s a mighty nice piece of boat.”
“Thank you.”
“Moses, are you sorry that you used Mr. Fussleman’s dock without permission?” Zach asked the old man.
Moses looked at Zach then Mr. Fussleman. “I didn’t use nobody’s dock except as a place to put a piece of cotton rope. I’m sorry that the policemans put me in jail and lock me and my boat up. That’s what makes my heart cry in the night.”
“Moses doesn’t believe the river belongs to anyone,” I said, “but he’s agreed not to tie up at private docks without permission in the future, right?”
I held my breath for a second, hoping Moses wouldn’t back down on his promise.
“That be right, missy.”
“And Mr. Fussleman might be willing to let you tie up if you ask his permission in advance before eleven o’clock at night,” I added.
Moses looked at Mr. Fussleman. “That’s mighty nice of you, boss man. You let Moses know, and I’ll clean that blue and white boat for free and scrub your dock. And you know that yellow line at the edge, the one that be going away fast? I paint it for you.”
Mr. Fussleman shook Moses’ hand. “Come by when you get out of jail, and we’ll talk about it.” The dock owner turned to me. “This man doesn’t need to be locked up. I’ll testify if you need me.”