should make. We had hoped for this, and I was relieved that the court would give us time to
explain the significance of all the evidence in writing and assist him in preparing his order, an
order I hoped would set Walter free. At the end of three days of intense litigation, the judge
adjourned the proceedings in the late afternoon.
Michael and I had been in a rush the final morning of the hearing and hadn’t checked out
of our hotel before leaving for the courthouse. We said our farewells to the family in the
courtroom and went back to the hotel, feeling exhausted but satisfied.
Bay Minette, where the hearing took place, is about thirty minutes from the beautiful beaches
on the Gulf of Mexico. We had started a tradition of bringing our staff down to the beach
each September, and we’d all fallen in love with the clear warm waters of the Gulf. The white
sand and pleasantly underdeveloped beachfront were spectacular and soothing. The view was
slightly spoiled by the massive offshore oil rigs you could see in the distance, but if you could
make yourself forget about them, you’d think you were in paradise. Dolphins loved this part
of the Gulf and could be spotted in the early mornings, playfully making their way through
the water. I’d often thought we should move our office to right there on the beach.
It was Michael’s idea to hit the beach before heading back to Montgomery. I wasn’t sure it
was a good idea, but the day was warm and the coast was so close, I couldn’t resist. We
jumped in the car, trailing the last hours of sunlight to the beautiful shores near Fort Morgan,
Alabama. As soon as we got there, Michael changed from his suit to swim trunks and went
sprinting into the ocean. I was too tired to race into the sea, so I put on some shorts and sat
down at the water’s edge. It would soon be dusk, but the heat persisted. My head was full of
everything that had transpired in court: I was replaying what witnesses had said and
worrying about whether things had gone exactly right. I was trawling through every detail in
my mind, every possible misstep, until I caught myself. It was over; there was no point in
making myself crazy by overthinking it now. I decided to dive into the ocean and, for a
moment at least, forget it all.
Recently, stranded at the airport with nothing else to read, I had read an article about
shark attacks. As I approached the waves at Fort Morgan, now lit by the sunset, I remembered
that sharks feed at dusk and at dawn. I watched Michael swimming far off shore, and as fun
as it looked, I knew I’d be the more vulnerable target if a shark showed up. Michael swam
like a fish while I barely stayed afloat.
Michael waved at me and shouted: “B-man, come on out!” I cautiously ventured into the
water far enough to explain my concerns about sharks to him. He laughed at me. The water
felt warm and wonderful, comforting in a way I hadn’t expected. A school of fish zipped by
my legs, and I stared at them in wonder until I realized that they might be fleeing some larger
predator. I carefully made my way back to the shore.
I sat on the sandy shore and watched the brilliant white pelicans gliding effortlessly over
the still waters in search of food. Small fiddler crabs scurried around me, too fearful to get
close but curious enough to linger nearby. I thought about Walter making his way back to
Holman, shackled in the back of the van again. I wanted him to be hopeful but grounded
enough to manage whatever the court decided. I thought about his family and all the people
who had come to court. They’d kept the faith through the five years that had passed since
Walter was first arrested, and now they had cause to feel energized and encouraged. I thought