Sycamore Row - John Grisham

Jake couldn’t believe it. “Come on, Portia. I’ll make some coffee and we’ll have a
chat. Go get your mother.”
Sistrunk was reading and resting comfortably on his lower bunk, a stack of motions
and briefs balanced on his stomach, his cellie sitting nearby with his nose stuck in a
paperback. Metal clanged, the door unlatched, Ozzie appeared from nowhere and said,
“Let’s go Booker.” He handed him his suit, shirt, and tie, all on one hanger. His shoes
and socks were in a paper grocery bag.
They sneaked out a rear door where Ozzie’s car was parked. A minute later they
stopped behind the courthouse and hustled inside. The halls were empty and no one
suspected anything. On the third floor they entered Judge Atlee’s cramped outer room.
His court reporter doubled as his secretary. She pointed to another door and said,
“They’re waiting.”
“What’s going on?” Sistrunk mumbled for at least the fourth time. Ozzie did not reply.
He pushed open the door. Judge Atlee sat at the end of a long table, in his standard
black suit, minus the robe. To his right sat Jake, Lettie, and Portia. He motioned to his
left and said, “Gentlemen, please have a seat.” They did, with Ozzie sitting as far away
from the action as possible.
Sistrunk glared across the table at Jake and Lettie. It was difficult for him to hold his
tongue, but he managed to do so. His habit was to shoot first and ask questions later,
but common sense told him to take it easy, hold his fire, and try not to anger the judge.
Portia, in particular, seemed ready to pounce on him. Lettie studied her hands while
Jake scratched on a legal pad.
“Please review this,” Judge Atlee said to Sistrunk as he slid over a single sheet of
paper. “You’ve been fired.”
Sistrunk read the one short paragraph, then looked at Lettie and said, “Did you sign
this?”
“I did.”
“Under duress?”
“Absolutely not,” Portia said boldly. “She has made the decision to terminate your
services. It’s right there in black and white. Do you understand?”
“Where’s Simeon?”
“Gone,” Lettie said. “Don’t know when he’ll be back.”
“I still represent him,” Sistrunk said.
“He’s not an interested party,” Judge Atlee said. “Thus, he will not be allowed to take
part, nor will you.” He picked up another sheet of paper and passed it over. “This is an
order I just signed lifting the contempt citation. Since you are no longer involved in this
matter, Mr. Sistrunk, you are free to go.” It was more of a command than an
observation.
Sistrunk looked angrily at Lettie and said, “I’m allowed to be paid for my time and
expenses, plus there is the matter of the loans. When can I expect the money?”