Sycamore Row - John Grisham

When everyone was in place and somewhat settled, Jake nodded at Portia who
opened a side door and retrieved her mother. Lettie was dressed for church and looked
great, though Jake had told her she could wear anything. “It’s just a deposition.”
She sat at the end of the table, with Jake close by on one side, the court reporter on
the other side with her stenographic machine, and her daughter not far away. She
looked down the long table, smiled at the horde of lawyers, and said, “Good morning.”
Every single lawyer returned the greeting with a smile. Off to a good start.
But only for a second. As Jake was about to start the preliminaries, the large main
door opened and Rufus Buckley walked in, briefcase in hand as if he had business there.
The courtroom was empty—not a single spectator—and it would remain so upon the
order of Judge Reuben Atlee. Obviously, Buckley wasn’t there to observe.
He walked through the swinging gate of the bar and took a seat at the table. The
other nine lawyers watched suspiciously.
Jake was suddenly itching for a fight. He called out loudly, “Well, hello, Rufus. So nice
to see you out of jail these days.”
“Ha-ha, Jake. Such a comedian.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for the deposition. Can’t you see?” Buckley shot back.
“Who do you represent?”
“The same client I’ve had for a month. Simeon Lang.”
“He’s not an interested party.”
“Oh, we think he is. We think it might need to be litigated, but our position is that Mr.
Lang has a direct pecuniary interest in the will contest. That’s why I’m here.”
Jake stood and said, “Okay, let’s stop right where we are. Judge Atlee is on standby in
case there’s trouble. I’ll run fetch him.” Jake left the courtroom in a hurry and Buckley
settled into his seat, somewhat nervously.
Minutes later, Judge Atlee entered from behind the bench, minus his robe, and took
his usual position. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said gruffly and without waiting for
any response said, “Mr. Buckley, using as few words as possible, please tell me why
you’re here.”
Buckley stood with his customary purpose, and said, “Well, Judge, we still represent
Mr. Simeon Lang and—”
“Who’s we?”
“Mr. Booker Sistrunk and myself, along—”
“Mr. Sistrunk will not be appearing in this courtroom, Mr. Buckley, not in this matter
anyway.”
“Okay, well, then our position hasn’t changed. Mr. Simeon Lang is a party to these
proceedings and—”
“He is not, nor will I allow him to become a party. Therefore, Mr. Buckley, you are
not representing an interested party.”
“But that has not been finally determined.”
“It certainly has. By me. You have no business here, Mr. Buckley. And this deposition
is closed.”