Sycamore Row - John Grisham

ickering for later.”
After the recess, the lawyers were allowed to move their chairs around to the other
sides of their tables so they could stare at the panel while the panel stared right back.
Judge Atlee assumed the bench without the ritual of “Please rise for the court” and
began with a concise statement of the case. He said he expected the trial to last three or
four days and that he certainly planned to be finished by Friday afternoon. He
introduced the lawyers, all of them, but not the paralegals. Jake was alone, facing an
army.
Judge Atlee explained that he would cover a few areas that had to be discussed, then
he would allow the attorneys to question and probe. He began with health—anyone
sick, facing treatment, or unable to sit and listen for long periods of time? One lady
stood and said her husband was in the hospital in Tupelo and she needed to be there.
“You are excused,” Judge Atlee said with great compassion, and she hustled out of the
courtroom. Number twenty-nine, gone. Number forty had a herniated disk that had
flared up over the weekend and he claimed to be in considerable pain. He was taking
painkillers that made him quite drowsy. “You are excused,” Judge Atlee said.
He seemed perfectly willing to excuse anyone with a legitimate concern, but this
proved not to be the case. When he asked about conflicts with work, a gentleman
wearing a coat and a tie stood and said he simply could not be away from the office. He
was a district manager for a company that made steel buildings, and was clearly an
executive taken with his own importance. He even hinted he might lose his job. Judge
Atlee’s lecture on civic responsibility lasted five minutes and scorched the gentleman. He
ended with “If you lose your job, Mr. Crawford, let me know. I’ll subpoena your boss,
put him on the stand here, and, well, he’ll have a bad day.”
Mr. Crawford sat down, thoroughly chastised and humiliated. There were no more
efforts to skip jury duty on account of work. Judge Atlee then moved to the next issue
on his checklist—prior jury service. Several said they had served before, three in state
court and two in federal. Nothing about those experiences would alter their ability to
deliberate in the case at hand.
Nine people claimed to know Jake Brigance. Four were former clients and they were
excused. Two ladies attended the same church but felt as though that fact would not
influence their judgment. They were not excused. A distant relative was. Carla’s
schoolteacher friend said she knew Jake well and was too close for any objectivity. She
was excused. The last was a high school pal from Karaway who admitted he hadn’t seen
Jake in ten years. He was left on the panel, to be dealt with later.
Each lawyer was introduced again, with the same questions. No one knew Wade
Lanier, Lester Chilcott, Zack Zeitler, or Joe Bradley Hunt, but then they were out-oftown
lawyers.
Judge Atlee said, “Now, moving along, the last will and testament in question was
written by a man named Seth Hubbard, now deceased, of course. Did any of you know