Sycamore Row - John Grisham

Mr. Eli Rady, had filed four lawsuits and lost them all. She checked the lien books and
found dozens of claims for unpaid taxes, unpaid supplies, unpaid subcontractors. A few
of their prospective jurors owed the county money for property taxes. In the tax
assessor’s office, she dug through property tax receipts and made a register of which
jurors owned what make and model of vehicles. Not surprisingly, there were a lot of
pickup trucks.
The work was tedious and often mind-numbing, but she never slowed down, never
thought of quitting. After two weeks of living with these people, she was confident she
knew them.
After coffee, they grudgingly went back to work. Jake began roughing out an outline
for his opening statement. Portia returned to the conference room and to her ninetyseven
new friends. At ten, Harry Rex finally rolled in with a sackful of greasy sausage
biscuits straight from Claude’s. He handed one to Jake, insisted he take it, then slid
across an envelope.
“It’s a check from your insurance company, Land Fire and Casualty, a bunch of
crooked morons, so don’t ever buy another policy from them, understand? A hundred
and thirty-five thousand bucks. Settlement in full. And not a dime of it siphoned off for
attorney’s fees, so you owe me big-time, buddy.”
“Thanks. Since your fees are so cheap, get busy.”
“I’m really tired of this case, Jake. On Monday, I’m gonna help you pick the jury, then
I’m outta there. I got my own cases to lose.”
“Fair enough. Just be there for the selection.” Jake knew Harry Rex would in fact miss
little of the actual courtroom testimony, then he would park himself in the downstairs
conference room each evening as they ate pizza and sandwiches and argued about what
went wrong and what might happen the following day. He would second-guess every
move Jake made; excoriate Wade Lanier with scathing criticism; curse the negative
rulings made by Judge Atlee; offer unsolicited advice at every turn; maintain the
constant gloom of losing an unwinnable case; and at times be so unbearable Jake would
want to throw something at him. But he was seldom wrong. He knew the law and its
intricacies. He read people like others read magazines. Without being obvious, he
watched the jurors as they watched Jake. And his advice would be invaluable.
Despite Seth Hubbard’s rather explicit command that no other lawyer in Ford County
profit from his estate, Jake was determined to find a way to channel some fees to Harry
Rex. Seth wanted his last-minute, handwritten will to survive all challenges, and
whether he liked it or not, Harry Rex Vonner was crucial to the effort.
The phone on Jake’s desk started a muted ringing. He ignored it. Harry Rex said,
“Why have ya’ll stopped answering the phones around here? I’ve called ten times this
week and nobody answered.”
“Portia’s been in the courthouse. I’ve been busy. Lucien doesn’t answer the phone.”
“Think of all the car wrecks and divorces and shoplifting cases you’re missing. All the
human misery out there trying like hell to get through.”
“I’d say we’re tied up right now.”
“Any word from Lucien?”