A Time to Kill
And proceed it did. The third and final trial of Sam Cayhall began in February of 1981, in a
chilly little courthouse in Lakehead County, a hill county in the northeastern corner of the
state. Much could be said about the trial. There was a young district attorney, David
McAllister, who performed brilliantly but had the obnoxious habit of spending all his spare time
with the press. He was handsome and articulate and compassionate, and it became very clear that
this trial had a purpose. Mr. McAllister had political ambitions on a grand scale.
There was a jury of eight whites and four blacks. There were the glass sample, the fuse, the
FBI reports, and all the other photos and exhibits from the first two trials.
Ant then, there was the testimony of Jeremiah Dogan, who took the stand in a denim workshirt and
with a humble countenance solemnly explained to the jury how he conspired with Sam Cayhall s
itting over there to bomb the office of Mr. Kramer. Sam glared at him intensely and absorbed
every word, but Dogan looked away. Sam's lawyer berated Dogan for half a day, and forced him to
admit that he'd cut a deal with the government. But the damage was done.
It was of no benefit to the defense of Sam Cayhall to raise the issue of Rollie Wedge. Because
to do so would be to admit that Sam in fact had been in Greenville with the bomb. Sam would be
forced to admit that he was a co-conspirator, and under the law he would be just as guilty as the
man who planted the dynamite. And to present this scenario to the jury, Sam would be forced to
testify, something neither he nor his attorney wanted. Sam could not withstand a rigorous
cross-examination, because Sam would be forced to tell one lie to cover the last.
And, at this point, no one would believe a sudden tale of a mysterious new terrorist who'd never
been mentioned before, and who came and went without being seen. Sam knew the Rollie Wedge
angle was futile, and he never mentioned the man's name to his own lawyer.
AT THE CLOSE of the trial, David McAllister stood before the jury in a packed courtroom and
presented his closing argument. He talked of being a youngster in Greenville and having Jewish
friends. He didn't know they were different. He knew some of the Kramers, fine folks who
worked hard and gave back to the town. He also played with little black kids, and learned they
made wonderful friends. He never understood why they went to one school and he went to another. He told a gripping story of feeling the earth shake on the morning of April 21, 1967, and running in the direction of downtown where smoke was drifting upward. For three hours, he stood behind the police barricades and waited. He saw them huddle in the debris when they found the boys. Tears dripped down his cheeks when the little bodies, covered with white sheets, were carried slowly to an ambulance.
It was a splendid performance, and when McAllister finished the courtroom was silent. Several
of the jurors dabbed at their eyes.
ON FEBRUARY 12, 1981, Sam Cayhall was convicted on two counts of capital murder and one count of
attempted murder. Two days later, the same jury in the courtroom returned with a sentencing
verdict of death.
He was transported to the state penitentiary at Parchman to begin waiting for his appointment
with the gas chamber. On February 19, 1981, he first set foot on death row.
1994 John Grisham