It was still relatively early in the morning when Robert got up in the inn, quickly got himself ready, and went to the prison. He saluted to the guards outside the prison and then went inside to talk with his client.

“I’m sure glad to see you here today,” Harrison said.

“I’m glad to see that you are safe and sound today,” Robert said. “So far I have been able to find at least one person willing to speak a bit on your behalf, the doctor you ran to.”

“You spoke with Doctor Petigru?” Harrison asked.

“He said that your late father was a bit of an argumentative man,” Robert said.

“That was unfortunately true,” Harrison said. “We did have more than our share of rows. I figure most people just tried to tune it out.”

“I wonder if we will have any more witnesses to speak up on your behalf,” Robert said. “But having at least one was a good start. Hopefully we can have the local clerk find some documentation about your family and your father as well.”

“I suppose we’ll have to see,” said Harrison.

“I suppose we will. At any rate, the trial is going to begin today, so hopefully we will be able to make a good impression on at least someone within the court,” Robert said. Harisson nodded. At this point, a somewhat slack guard opened the door and walked in.

“It is time to head to the courthouse,” the guard said.

“Very well, we can go together then,” Robert answered.

“Are you sure you want to make yourself visible to the crowd?” the guard asked.

“It may make things less safe for me, but it should make things more safe for him, so I will do it,” Robert replied.

“Suit yourself,” said the guard, who made sure that Harrison was in cuffs as he was led to the courthouse to the jeering of the crowd that had assembled along the way. Seeing a respectable-looking white man like Robert in the company of Harrison only increased their ire, as various unprintable slurs were liberally and casually said by the hateful audience, who was incensed that people had guarded Harrison in the evening and also that someone had been found to defend him from justice. It was not a long walk from the prison to the courthouse, but it felt like a station of the cross to both Harrison and Robert as they endured the hatred of the crowd and entered the courthouse.

Before too long the door of the courtroom was opened and Robert and Harrison, along with the guard, walked inside. Robert, in his elegant wig and well-dressed attire, was a proper barrister, that everyone could see from appearance, even if he was not familiar to all of the audience yet. The courtroom was packed with interested observers. Behind the defense table, where Harrison and Robert deposited themselves to sit for the moment, there was a middle-aged dark-skinned woman and a much younger lighter-skinned young lady whom Robert judged to be Harrison’s younger sister. Robert nodded to them both. He turned to the opposite side of the courtroom to see a confident and swaggering looking man, also in his white wig, who was obviously the prosecutor. There was a group of people seated whom Robert took for the jury, a suitable variety of white men, some of whom looked like tradespeople, some like ordinary workers, and some who looked like better folk. Robert was not sure which, if any of them, would be persuadable to his arguments on the fact or the law, but if he felt a heavy burden, he at least affected an air of casual interest in the scene. Before too long the bailiff spoke up and told the court to rise for the honorable Judge McNeal, who banged the gavel and let everyone have their seats again.

“We are here in the case of South Carolina vs. DuPont in the case of the murder of _______ DuPont. The defendant is present in the courtroom with counsel. What is your name sir?” the judge began.

“Your honor, I am Robert Woods, barrister of East Florida, residing in St. Augustine,” Robert replied.

“We accept your credentials for the case here,” the judge said. “You are familiar with the laws of this jurisdiction, I presume?”

“I am indeed, your honor,” Robert replied.

“Very well then. Mr. Barnes,” the judge said, looking towards the confident-looking prosecutor. “You may begin your arguments. The state will begin, having the burden to convict, and will go first in order every step of the way. After opening arguments we will have the state presenting its evidence, and then the defense may present their case. After all witnesses have been heard, the two parties will make their closing arguments. I will rule on any matters of law, and if there are any disputes in matters of fact, they will be left for the jury to decide. I am aware that this case is one that has the passionate interest of the people of the city, but I expect there will be no histrionics here, but that cool reason will prevail in this courtroom.” Both the prosecutor and Robert nodded their heads in agreement. “Very well, the state may begin.”

Mr. Barnes got up to speak. “What we have today is a very simple case, one which would not generally be worthy of the excitement of the local community were it not for the identity of the parties involved. Of the basic facts of the case, there is no dispute. This young man,” he said, waving his hand contemptuously at Harrison, not even bothering to look at the defendant, “was in a passionate argument with the man he claimed to be his father, and at the end of that argument, ________ DuPont was dead, on the ground. The presumption in such cases is murder, and we have seen nothing that would deter us from seeking to convict on such grounds. It scarcely needs mentioning that it would be highly detrimental to the order of our society if slaves and others like them were able to successfully claim defenses for having laid hands and done violence to those of the planter class. We the people of South Carolina pride ourselves on the nobility of our culture, and on the need to defend the best class of society from verbal or physical violence from those who are so far beneath them. It is a wonder to me that such a case as this one even needs to be tried in the first place.” Harrison sat down, not wishing to waste any more of the court’s time.

“Mister Woods, you may proceed,” the judge said, turning to Robert.

“No one is more aware than the defense that any black man involved in an argument or altercation with any white man is under a heavy presumption of guilt,” Robert allowed. “It is not my purpose to argue with the deep-seated feelings of a community, regardless of my own opinions. I too, as a descendant of a noble line of England, have as high a regard for the honor and respect that is due to the scions of aristocracy as anyone could be. But as a proud Englishman, speaking to those who have, in many ways, long taken credit as being people of the highest cultural excellence, cannot but point out that one of the ways that makes England excellent is extending the right of trial to all who are accused, so that even the meanest and most despised class of people may not be punished without having received their time in court and receive whatever share of protection they may have in the law from the passions and feelings that govern their fellow citizens and neighbors. I am aware that in this state that a slave has no right to speak out in his defense or act in self-defense from his master, or from any white man or woman that the master may permit to hold authority over his property. Such codes are enshrined in law and reflect the will of the populace, and such a will cannot be safely disregarded by those who seek to rule by the consent of the governed. Yet there are two grounds for defense to be found for my client that will be argued before this court and that are worthy of the time that the court may spend on it. For one, my client is not a slave, and so is not subject to the harshness of the slave codes that make it a crime for a slave to seek to defend himself from any treatment meted out by his master. Even if Harrison DuPont here is not considered to be a full-citizen with the right to vote or speak out as a witness here in court, and suffers a great many disabilities on account of his origin, he is still not a slave and so he possesses the natural rights due to mankind, namely the rights of life, liberty, and property, however modestly those rights may be accounted. Where there is no criminal act, no physical violence, merely an unfortunate verbal argument, no free person of any race or origin can, according to the laws of South Carolina as they now stand, be considered as guilty of capital murder because a death followed an argument. It is my understanding that there has not been any attempt to charge my client with lesser offenses that would better fit the situation, like manslaughter, that would not subject my client to the threat of capital punishment but that would still defend the honor of Mr. DuPont in the eyes of this community and deter anyone from engaging in like conduct. Not only is there not a criminal act that is worthy of capital punishment in this case, though, but neither is there a criminal mind on the part of my defendant. It might be forgiven for anyone to act guilty had they been in the situation that Harrison found himself in when he was in an argument with his beloved but argumentative father about his choice of doing business with British soldiers and serving as a pilot in the tricky waters around Charleson Harbor and nearby rivers. However, when Mr. DuPont collapsed from the natural cause of apoplexy in the course of the argument, Harrison did not seek to escape judgment and run from the trouble he likely knew would come, but instead he ran to a local doctor who unsuccessfully tried to save Mr. DuPont, it being too late to revive his heart. This shows that not only do we have an absence of a criminal act worthy of the ultimate punishment, but we lack also a criminal mind. Harrison, for the dignity that led him to argue with his beloved father, did not wish his father any harm, and so was free from the malice aforethought that is necessary to charge someone with capital murder. This was no crime of passion, nor indeed a crime of murder at all, but rarely an argument that had a drastic and unfortunate and accidental outcome. And while such outcomes are to be lamented and regretted, they are not to be punished with the hangman’s noose.” With that he sat down, to the silence of the courtroom.

“Does the state wish to begin their case?” the judge said, turning to the prosecutor.

Standing up, the prosecutor said, almost stammering as he did, “I was not aware that the defense wished to argue this case on the merits of the law. I request an adjournment until after lunch so that witnesses to the altercation can be gathered up to argue the state’s case.”

“Do you have any objection to an adjournment, Mister Woods?” the judge asked.

“I have no objection, your honor.”

“This court is therefore in recess until 1PM,” the judge said, banging the gavel, “at which point the state will begin their case.” Immediately, the heretofore silent courtroom began to explode in chatter, as the crowd was shocked to see that someone wished to give a vigorous defense to a black man accused of murdering a master, who was claimed to be his father. Even without any appeal to histrionics, it promised to be an exciting show.