Sycamore Row - John Grisham

28
On Monday, February 20, Judge Atlee assembled the players for a progress report. Since
it was not an official hearing of any variety, he locked the courtroom to keep reporters
and spectators away. Most of the litigants were present: the Hubbards on one side,
Lettie and Phedra on the other. Still no sign of Ancil, though Judge Atlee was not quite
ready to declare him dead.
He assumed the bench, in his robe, managed a gruff “Good morning,” and called the
roll of lawyers. All present. It was soon obvious the judge was not in a good mood and
probably felt bad. In a tired voice he said, “Gentlemen, this matter is scheduled for a
jury trial six weeks from today. I am monitoring discovery and I see no reason why we
can’t be ready to go on as planned on April 3. Am I missing something here? Any reason
to delay the trial?”
Serious head shaking followed. No sir. No reason at all. As Jake had said, it was
indeed a strange case in that every lawyer was eager for a trial. If anyone wanted to
stall, it might be Jake. He had every reason to drag things along, at $150 an hour, but
he had Judge Atlee breathing down his neck too. The case officially known as In re
Estate of Henry Seth Hubbard was barreling down the docket at record speed.
The judge continued: “Now, Mr. Brigance has copies of the First Inventory for your
perusal. As I have instructed in writing, this is to be kept as confidential as possible.”
Portia began handing over copies to the other side. “I have sealed this section of the
court file because nothing good can come from the dissemination of this sensitive
material. You, as the attorneys, and your clients have the right to know what’s in the
estate, so take a look.” The lawyers snatched the copies of the inventory and flipped
through the pages. Some had heard the alleged value, but they still wanted to see it in
black and white. Twenty-four million and change. It validated what they were doing,
why they were fighting.
The courtroom was deathly silent for a few moments as it sank in. More money than
any of them could ever hope to earn in a long career. Then there were some whispers,
and a chuckle over a wisecrack.
Judge Atlee said, “I address the contestants now. In reviewing the discovery, it seems
as though you may have plans to challenge the validity of the handwriting. You have
listed two experts in this field, and I assume the proponents will need to employ their
own. I’ve looked at the handwriting samples, specifically the will, the burial
instructions, the letter Mr. Hubbard left behind on his kitchen table, and the letter he
addressed to Mr. Brigance, dated October 1. I have also seen the other samples of his