Sycamore Row - John Grisham

“Come on, Judge, it’s just a deposition, not some secret meeting. The testimony will
be added to the court file and available to the public.”
“That’s for me to decide at some future date.”
“Judge, what she says today will be sworn testimony, and it will become a part of the
record in this case.”
“Don’t lecture me, Mr. Buckley.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“These depositions will be sealed until I review them. Frankly, Mr. Buckley, I don’t
like being put in the position of having to argue with you. Need I remind you of what
happened the last time you said too much in this courtroom?”
“No need for that, Judge,” Buckley said.
“Good day, Mr. Buckley,” the judge said at full volume.
Buckley stood helplessly, in disbelief, both arms outstretched as if stunned. “Seriously,
Judge?”
“Dead serious, Mr. Buckley. Good day, sir.”
Buckley nodded, reached for his briefcase, and made a hasty retreat from the
courtroom. When the main door closed behind him, Judge Atlee said, “Carry on,” and
disappeared.
Everyone took a deep breath. Jake said, “Now, where were we?”
“I kinda miss Sistrunk,” Wade Lanier drawled, and got a few laughs.
“I’m sure you do,” Jake said. “He and Buckley would have scored well with a Ford
County jury.”
Jake introduced Lettie to the court reporter, the other lawyers, all names and faces
blurred by the sheer number, and he went into a lengthy explanation of the purposes of
a deposition. The instructions were fairly simple. Please speak clearly, slowly, and if a
question isn’t clear, ask that it be restated. If uncertain, say nothing. He, Jake, would
object to anything objectionable, and please answer truthfully because you’re under
oath. The lawyers would take turns with their questioning. If you need a break, just say
so. The court reporter would take down every word, and the video camera would record
the entire deposition. If for some reason Lettie was not able to testify at trial, the video
would be used as evidence.
The instructions were necessary, and then they were not. Jake, Portia, and Lucien had
rehearsed with Lettie for hours in the conference room at the office. She was well
prepared, though in a deposition it was impossible to predict what might be discussed.
At trial, all testimony must be relevant. Not so in a deposition, which often turned into a
prolonged fishing expedition.
Be polite. Be concise. Don’t volunteer. If you don’t know, then you don’t know.
Remember the camera catches everything. And I’ll be right beside you for protection,
Jake had said over and over. Portia had gone to the attic and found dozens of old
depositions that she had spent hours poring over. She understood the technicalities, the
strategies, and the pitfalls. She and her mother had talked for hours on the back porch of
the old Sappington house.
Lettie was as prepared as possible. After she was sworn by the court reporter, Wade