Sycamore Row - John Grisham

ealize we were out of line yesterday. We were presumptuous and disrespectful, and for
that I apologize. It will not happen again.”
“Very well. The contempt order is hereby nullified.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Buckley said meekly, his shoulders sagging with relief.
“Now, Mr. Buckley, I’ve set a trial date for April 3. There is a lot of work to be done, a
lot of meetings when you lawyers get together, and I suppose quite a few more hearings
in this courtroom. We cannot have a brawl or a circus every time we’re in the same
room. Things are very tense. We all acknowledge there’s a lot at stake. And so my
question for you is this: How do you see your role in this case, you and your Memphis
co-counsel?”
Suddenly a free man, and given the chance to speak, Rufus Buckley cleared his throat
and seized the moment with confidence. “Well, Your Honor, we will be here to protect
the rights of our client, Ms. Lettie Lang and—”
“I get that. I’m talking about the trial, Mr. Buckley. It seems to me that there’s simply
not enough room for Mr. Brigance, the lead attorney for the proponents of the will, and
all the lawyers representing the beneficiary. It’s just too crowded, know what I mean?”
“Well, not really, Your Honor.”
“Okay, I’ll be blunt. A person who wishes to contest a will has the right to hire a
lawyer and file a petition,” he said as he waved an arm at the lawyers on the other side.
“That lawyer is then involved in the case from start to finish. On the other hand, the
proponents of the will are represented by the attorney for the estate. In this case, it’s
Mr. Brigance. The individual beneficiaries sort of ride his coattails.”
“Oh, I disagree, Your Honor, we—”
“Hold on. What I’m saying, Mr. Buckley, with all due respect, is that I’m not sure
you’re really needed. Maybe you are, but you’ll have to convince me later. We have
plenty of time. Just think about it, okay?”
“Well, Judge, I think—”
Judge Atlee showed him his palms and said, “That’s enough. I’ll not argue this. Maybe
another day.”
For an instant, Buckley seemed ready for an argument, then quickly remembered why
he was there. No sense irritating the judge again. “Sure, Judge, and thank you.”
“You’re free to go.”
Jake glanced at the young woman again. Tight jeans, a red sweater, well-worn yellow
running shoes, short hair and stylish glasses. She appeared lean and fit and did not look
like the typical twenty-five-year-old black woman in Ford County. She glanced at him
and smiled.
Thirty minutes later, she was standing before Roxy’s desk, politely inquiring as to
whether she might have a few minutes with Mr. Brigance. Name please? Portia Lang,
daughter of Lettie. Mr. Brigance was very busy, but Roxy knew this might be important.
She made her wait ten minutes, then found a gap in his schedule.