Sycamore Row - John Grisham

lot, cut off the attorney’s fees and expenses, stop the presses, avoid the stress and
uncertainty of a trial, and everybody is guaranteed a nice slice of the pie. It made
perfect sense. In every lawsuit, the potential of a settlement was always in the minds of
the attorneys.
“Is this what your client wants to do?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it yet. But if it’s a possibility, then I’ll approach
Herschel and lean on him.”
“Okay. This pie you’re talking about, how do you want to slice it?”
A long gulp, followed by a backhand wipe of the mouth, and Stillman lunged onward.
“Let’s be honest, Jake, Lettie Lang is entitled to very little. In the scheme of things, and
in the normal transition of assets and estates, she just doesn’t figure in. She’s not family,
and regardless of how screwed up a family might be, the money almost always gets
handed down to the next generation. You know that. Ninety percent of all money that
flows through wills goes to family members. Ninety percent in Mississippi, same in New
York and California, where they have, shall we say, bigger estates. And look at the law.
If a person dies with no will, then all money and assets go to blood kin and no one else.
Keeping the money in the family is preferred by the law.”
“True, but we can’t settle this case if Lettie is told she gets nothing.”
“Of course not, Jake. Give her a couple of million. Can you imagine that? Lettie Lang,
unemployed, a career housekeeper, suddenly walks away with two million bucks, and
that’s after taxes? I’m not denigrating the woman, Jake; hell, I came to like her during
her deposition. She’s pleasant, even funny, a good person. I’m not being critical of her,
but come on, Jake, do you know how many black people in Mississippi are worth seven
figures?”
“Enlighten me.”
“According to the 1980 census, seven black folks in this state claimed to be worth
more than a million dollars. All men, most were in construction or real estate. Lettie
would be the richest black woman in the state.”
“And your client and his sister split the remaining ten million?” Jake asked.
“Something like that. Give a nice gift to the church, and we’ll split the rest.”
“That would be a good deal for you guys,” Jake said. “You’ll rake off a third of almost
five million. Not a bad payday.”
“I didn’t say we’re getting a third, Jake.”
“But you’re getting a percentage?”
“I can’t say, but sure, it’ll be a nice payday.”
For some, thought Jake. If the case settled now, his fees would be severely reined in.
“Have you discussed this with Wade Lanier?”
Stillman grimaced at the mention of his name. “That’s another story. Lanier wants my
client, who, for now, is sticking with me. I don’t trust Lanier and I’ll spend the next six
months looking over my shoulder. What a snake.”
“So the answer is no?”
“The answer is no. I haven’t discussed it with anyone.”
“I take it things are tense between your client and his client.”