Sycamore Row - John Grisham

18
Rufus Buckley parked his weathered Cadillac on the other side of the square, as far from
Jake’s office as possible. For a moment he sat in his car and remembered how much he
loathed the town of Clanton, its courthouse, its voters, and especially his history there.
There was a time, not too many years earlier, when the voters adored him and he
considered them part of his base, the foundation from which he would launch a
statewide race for governor, and from there, well, who knew? He’d been their district
attorney, a young hard-charging prosecutor with a gun on each hip, a noose in hand,
and no fear of the bad guys. Find ’em, haul ’em in, then watch Rufus string ’em up. He
campaigned hard on his 90 percent conviction rate, and his people loved him. Three
times they had voted for him in overwhelming numbers, but the last time around, last
year with the bitter Hailey verdict still fresh on their minds, the good people of Ford
County turned him out. He also lost badly in Tyler, Milburn, and Van Buren Counties,
pretty much the entire Twenty-Second District, though his home folks in Polk County
limped to the polls and gave him a pathetic sixty-vote margin.
His career as a public servant was over—though, at the age of forty-four, he could at
times almost convince himself there was a future, that he was still needed. By whom and
for what he wasn’t certain. His wife was threatening to leave if he ever again declared
himself a candidate for anything. After ten months of puttering around a small quiet
office and watching the paltry traffic on Main Street, Rufus was bored, defeated,
depressed, and going out of his mind. The phone call from Booker Sistrunk had been a
miracle, and Rufus leapt at the chance to plunge into some controversy. The fact that
Jake was the enemy only made the case richer.
He opened the door, got out, and hoped no one would recognize him. How the mighty
had fallen.
The Ford County Courthouse opened at 8:00 a.m., and five minutes later Rufus walked
through the front door, as he had done so many times before in another life. Back then
he was respected, even feared. Now he was ignored, except for the slightly delayed
glance from a janitor who almost said, “Say, don’t I know you?” He hustled upstairs and
was pleased to find the main courtroom unlocked and unguarded. The hearing was set
for 9:00 a.m. and Rufus was the first one there. This was by design because he and Mr.
Sistrunk had a plan.
It was only his third visit back since the Hailey trial, and the horror of losing hit low
in the bowels. He stopped just inside the large double doors and took in the vastness of
the empty, awful courtroom. His knees were spongy and for a second he felt faint. He