An Appeal to the Judge

            If you are new to this blog you may want to begin by reading, "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" for information regarding their case.  Please write prayers and words of encouragement in the comment section of the blog at the bottom of each post.



            An array of mason jars line the picnic table on the deck. Juice, their Jack Russel terrier, is sprawled out in a wooden rocker not far from where birds eat his dog food. At the top of the handcrafted steps leading to the Smith’s back door, I look over the railing to see rows of corn two foot high. Panning the grounds, I take in the picturesque sight and undeniable evidence of men who till their land; a metal gate, a barn, rows of pole beans, cabbage, kale and tomatoes abound. The grass is freshly mown and the mid-June air is crisp as dusk approaches. With pen in hand, my notebook and a camera, my intent is to interview Mr. Smith regarding the asset forfeiture case. It’s an interview that will not happen, not tonight anyway.

            Slouched over the left side of his beige leather recliner, Mr. Smith heaves into a waste basket purposefully lined and within arms reach.  The focus changes for everyone, abruptly. Mike straps a blood pressure device on his dad’s wrist. “His heart rate is 41! It’s the stress. I told him about our meeting with the attorney today. He just can’t take it.” Mike’s voice cracks with emotion as he commandeers a rescue, “Bring me wet wash cloths, he’s burning up.” Mrs. Smith, in a wheelchair, slumps over the back of a matching recliner.

            Fighting back tears, I wonder if this is the end. Am I too late to hear Mr. Smith’s story? Several other family members arrive, but Vernon, once stabilized, gave little heed to their presence. I didn’t need an interview question to determine who the Smith’s caretaker was. Watching his son Mike, wiping his forehead, arms and chest, as he fought back his own tears and fears, was enough for me. Later, when the medical scare subsided, I knew how crucial the timing had been. I also knew, the ailing Mr. Smith was particular about whose help he would receive.

            Today, Mike was called again, this time by his sister, to persuade his dad to go with her to the doctor. I found out later, Vernon Smith would prefer a visit with his guineas over medical attention. “Mike will take me when he gets back,” he declared as he pulled himself onto a golf cart and rode away. The doctor’s appointment would have to wait until Mr. Smith’s attendant-of-choice returned from the attorney’s office.

            I was introduced, once before, to Vernon Smith when I first joined the Halcombs (Ford and Bonita) on a visit in January 2011. We came to pray. We came for Bible study and we came because Mike’s wife, Cede, is Ford’s niece. Weekly, the Halcombs drove the thirty plus miles holding a Bible study for Mike and Shaun while under house arrest. On many occasions, I accompanied them. For hours we poured over the scriptures and poured out our hearts to God. With twenty years on the mission field, I was accustomed to times of refreshing from the Word of God. But honestly, I was surprised as I monitored the Smith’s attention each time we sat around the kitchen table. You see, I’ve led Bible studies before, holding someone’s attention for forty-five minutes is a major challenge. Yet, they gathered around that table like little chicks under their mother’s wing for hours as Ford or I expounded the Word.

            The most telling evidence I’ve accumulated about Mike & Shaun Smith, I found reflected in each Smith family member.  The Smiths, all of them, never pass up an opportunity to say thank you. The gratefulness of this family as they face an ordeal of this magnitude should be introduced as evidence in this case. I’ve not calculated the total number of hours I’ve spent in the last six months around this family but I know first hand as an observer, by nature, the little things. Things like, their story never changed. Questions we asked in the beginning still get the same response today. There was one question, however, that I’ve asked and continue to ask. Again, it arises from my people-watching observations. How have the Smiths maintained such solid relationships under the hounding pressure of legal battles?   

            With each visit my curiosity has been peaked as I observe Vernon & Juanita, Mike and Cede, Shaun and Tracy, Chris and his wife. I look at them and I ask, what kind of super glue are they using to hold their marriages together. I’ve seen no fed-up-to-here fights of frustration, no bickering or squabbles. These are character traits that are as entrenched as the root systems of the trees on this property. I’ve seen no name calling, faultfinding, blaming or gaming amongst them. When no one is looking, Mike Smith is a principled man. He is a man of the land.

            I look out over the carefully maintained acreage of their land and I’m reminded of my own father with his third grade education. He loved his land. He was raised on a farm. He didn’t know anything except farming. After years as a tenant farmer, he bought his own land and built his own house. His life was the farm. When he and my mother divorced in the 80’s, he was forced to sell the land he worked so hard to develop. I thought it would be the end of him. That’s what I’ve come to learn about Mike Smith and his dad too. These men build houses and barns, just like my dad, with their own sweat. That accomplishment was a badge of honor for country folk like us. This manner of man, men like my dad, men like Vernon Smith and his son Mike, are men of homegrown stature. Men who pull stuck vehicles from the holler with chains and tractors and send basket loads of fresh vegetables to neighbors.

            I’ve travelled to twenty nations of the world to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. I’ve been betrayed by ministers and churchgoers, those who profess they know the Lord, and by those who don’t. I’ve ministered to prisoners, drug addicts and influential people in high places that have tried to fool me into believing they are something they are not. Call it my homegrown upbringing, if you want, but I know when someone’s trying to pull the wool over my eyes. I’m certain you’ve seen, and can readily identify, them too. This one thing I know about Mike Smith. He’s a man, just like you. A man who’s made mistakes, more out of ignorance than intent. I understand, from court transcripts, you admitted to making a mistake too. It was last year, June 24th, 2010. It was the day, John Walls became a millionaire, and the Honorable Judge Hood, as transcribed by the court said, “it’s not so much that I made a mistake, it’s that I admitted I made a mistake.”

            Mike Smith made a mistake when he hired his first attorney. Derek Gordan made mistakes presenting this case. From what I gathered at the last hearing, the prosecution has made their own mistakes. Please, don’t let it be said, the Honorable Judge Hood made another mistake.

            Let principle, Godly principle, rule your decisions regarding these matters. 

“God’s verdict is on the lips of a king; his mouth should not err in judgment.” Pr 16:10