pull the switch himself if given the chance

Ten miles west of Slone there was a country store and deli called the Trading Post. It was owned by a large, loud, garrulous man named Jesse Hicks, a second cousin of Reeva's. Jesse's father had opened the Trading Post fifty years earlier, and Jesse had never worked anywhere else. The Post, as it was known, was a gathering place for gossip and lunch, and it had even hosted a few campaign barbecues for politicians. On Thursday, there was more traffic than usual, more folks stopping by to hear the latest on the execution. Jesse kept a photo of his favorite niece, Nicole Yarber, on the wall behind the counter next to the cigarettes, and he would discuss her case with anyone who would listen. Technically, she was a third cousin, but he called her a niece since she'd become something of a celebrity. For Jesse, 6:00 p.m. on Thursday, November 8, could not arrive soon enough. The store was in the front part of the building, the small eating area in the rear, and around an ancient potbellied stove there were half a dozen rocking chairs, all occupied as lunch drew near. Jesse was working the cash register, selling gas and beer, and talking nonstop to his small crowd. With the riot at the high school only a few hours old, and the First Baptist Church still smoldering, and, of course, the looming execution, the gossip was hot and the men chatted away excitedly. A man called Shorty walked in and announced, "The Africans are marchin' downtown again. One of 'em threw a brick through the window of a police car." This, on top of all the other stories, led to a near overload of news that had to be discussed and analyzed and put in perspective, and quickly. Shorty had the floor for a few minutes, but was soon overshadowed by Jesse, who always dominated the conversations. Various opinions were put forth on what the police should be doing, and no one argued that the police were handling things properly. For years, Jesse had boasted that he would witness the execution of Donte Drumm, couldn't wait to watch it, would, in fact, pull the switch himself if given the chance. He had said many times that his dear Reeva was insistent that he be there, on account of his fondness for and closeness to Nicole, his beloved niece. Every man rocking away had seen Jesse get choked up and wipe his eyes when talking about Nicole. But now a last-minute bureaucratic snafu was keeping Jesse away from Huntsville. There were so many journalists and prison officials and other big shots wanting to watch that Jesse got bumped. It was the hottest ticket in town, and Jesse, though on the approved list, had somehow been left out.