The Sapphire Brooch Katherine Logan (best beach reads TXT) 📖

the center of the table was a stack of law books. Charlotte wondered if they would ever be opened.

The commissioners entered the courtroom, talking among themselves. Judge Advocate Holt, lead prosecutor, took his place at the head of the commissioners’ table, closest to the witness stand. Charlotte eyed him with suspicion, knowing he would write rules as the trial progressed and share them with no one, at least no one on the defense teams.

Once the commissioners settled into their seats, Presiding Judge General David Hunter ordered the prisoners brought into the room. With the exception of Mary Surratt and Dr. Mudd, the prisoners were heavily shackled and hooded.

Jack sat in the middle of the platform, only a few feet from Charlotte, close enough to touch, and she was so tempted to do just that she unintentionally cleared her throat. Braham shot her a don’t do it again look.

She visually examined her brother with a surgeon’s eye for detail. The wrinkled, sweat-stained linen of his shirt clung to his chest and shoulders. Although he was filthy, there were no bloodstains, and his clothes weren’t torn. He sat straight in his chair. His head didn’t wobble, and he appeared alert. He wasn’t trembling. His shackled hands were of normal color and rested easily on his knees from relaxed arms, although there was some redness around his wrists from the constant rubbing of metal against skin.

She’d been holding her breath without realizing it, and now she let it out with silent sigh of relief. If she could only see his eyes, she could get a better read on his emotional health. For now, though, his body language conveyed a strength which made her hopeful. At least he was visited daily by the arsenal’s army physician. Would the doctor understand Braham’s memorandum on sensory deprivation and encourage General Hartranft to dispense with the hoods sooner than he did historically? She would pray he did.

General Hunter read the charges against the prisoners and each was asked if he or she objected to any member of the commission. Charlotte held her breath again. Following the establishment of Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp in 2002, Jack had written several articles about the similarities between the trial of the conspirators and the treatment of the detainees. And he’d read the biographies of all the members of the military commission, and studied their war successes and failures.

When Hunter asked Jack if he objected to any member, he said with a voice which carried throughout the room, “I object to the presence of General Hunter and General Howe. They have both just returned from a two-week tour of mourning with the president’s remains. I further object to General Hunter…”

Braham exhaled though gritted teeth.

“…who fought against Mosby’s Rangers in the valley, sitting in judgment of Mr. Powell. I further object to General Hunter on the grounds he might be seeking atonement for the embarrassment caused by General Early in 1864. Lastly, I object to General Wallace, who might be seeking redemption for his military blunder at Shiloh.”

The courtroom erupted. Several reporters jumped out of their chairs and raced from the room. General Hunter banged his hammer repeatedly, demanding silence, but the clamor continued. Both Cullen and Braham remained expressionless. Charlotte did not dare look at the commissioners.

Jack had sealed his death warrant.

“Your objections are noted and denied.” General Hunter’s voice rose several notches in volume.

When the room began to calm, Cullen leaned over and whispered. “Draw an accurate layout of the room. Identify who ye can, and where they’re sitting, and make a note if ye recognize any of the spectators.”

While the arraignments proceeded, Charlotte drew a floor plan, stretching her neck to see on the other side of the three columns dividing the room. Very little air came through the four barred windows, and it was already sweltering. By July, she knew the temperature in the room would reach a hundred degrees.

Many of the people in the room she recognized from photographs. A few of the female spectators looked familiar, but she couldn’t put names and faces together. Rattling chains drew her attention back to the platform. The prisoners were standing.

Cullen leaned over and whispered to her once again. “Don’t watch them leave. Show me yer notes. Now.”

A wrenching pain lodged in her chest, but she obeyed Cullen. She picked up her notes, and they huddled together in low-voiced discussion.

After the prisoners had been removed, General Holt and the commission determined the rules of procedure. Not being a real court, the commission had a great deal of latitude. Holt advised the commission several witnesses, fearing retaliation, would testify in secret.

“Which must be why there’s no record of Jack’s accusers,” she said.

After the rules were established, court adjourned for the day. Braham stood, indicating it was time for them to leave. He gathered his papers and slipped them into his briefcase.

“Let’s go,” he said.

On their way out of the courtroom, General Holt stopped Braham and said, “This will ruin your reputation. You’re a hell of a soldier. Step aside before it’s too late. Your client…well, it’s better to get out now.”

Holt’s attitude unnerved and infuriated Charlotte. The prosecutor had no idea what being in the courtroom cost Braham. He had spent months planning to save the president’s life and had failed. A man he loved as a brother was charged with a crime Braham had tried to prevent and failed. He wasn’t about to let his failure end Jack’s life. Braham shifted his feet, pretending Holt’s comments didn’t matter, but not quite pulling it off.

“I loved President Lincoln,” Braham said, “and I’ll grieve for him the rest of my life. I pray for the day those responsible pay the ultimate price for what they’ve done. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt Jack Mallory is innocent. He did not support the rebel cause. He did not participate in a conspiracy, and I intend to prove it. Good day, General.”

Waves of weariness seemed to drag on Braham as they walked back