Sycamore Row - John Grisham

Judge Atlee relit his pipe with a match and blew some more smoke. He leaned
forward on his elbows and said, “Gentlemen, I think he’s right. If this will is proven to
be valid, that is, if the jury believes Mr. Hubbard was of sound mind and not unduly
influenced, then we have no choice but to follow the terms of the will. It is explicit. The
adult children get nothing.”
Maybe, Wade Lanier thought to himself, but you don’t know what I know. You
haven’t seen the Irene Pickering will. You don’t know that Ms. Lettie Lang has a history
of worming her way into the private matters of her employers. And when the jury hears
and sees this, the adult children of Seth Hubbard will do quite well.
Jake’s principled defense of his dead client’s last will, as well as his somewhat cocky
belief that the trial should be held in Clanton, in his courtroom, was severely shaken by
a tragedy that occurred later that night in an ice storm near the town of Lake Village, in
the southern part of Ford County. Two brothers, Kyle and Bo Roston, were driving home
after a high school basketball game. Kyle was Clanton High’s senior point guard. Bo was
a sophomore substitute. An eyewitness in a car behind them said the driver, Kyle, was
proceeding with caution, not in a hurry, and handling the road conditions with skill.
Another vehicle topped a hill at a high rate of speed and began sliding. The witness
watched in horror as a crash became inevitable. He estimated Kyle was driving about
forty miles per hour; the other vehicle, an old pickup, much faster than that. The headon
collision sent the Rostons’ small Toyota flipping through the air and into a ditch. The
pickup spun wildly into a field as debris littered the road. The witness was able to stop
in time and give assistance.
Kyle died at the scene. Bo was extracted by rescue personnel and taken to the hospital
in Clanton where he immediately went into surgery. The trauma to his head was severe
and he was barely alive. The other driver was also hospitalized but his injuries were not
serious. His blood alcohol content was twice the legal limit. A deputy was parked
outside his room.
The other driver was Simeon Lang.
Ozzie called Jake just after midnight and awakened him from a deep sleep. Fifteen
minutes later, Ozzie stopped in front of the house and Jake hustled outside and into the
sheriff’s car. The ice was worse and the streets were slick, and as they crept through
town Ozzie gave an update. The second boy was still in surgery but things looked grim.
As far as Ozzie could tell at that point, Simeon had not been drinking in a local honkytonk.
According to Lettie, who was already at the hospital, he had not been home in
over a week. She thought he was returning from a long haul, though he was not
carrying cash or a paycheck. He had a broken nose but was otherwise unhurt.
“The drunks always walk away from their wrecks,” Ozzie said.
They found Lettie and Portia hiding at the end of a long hallway, not far from
Simeon’s room. Both were crying, distraught, almost inconsolable. Jake sat with them
while Ozzie left to check on other matters. After a few minutes with little conversation,