Sycamore Row - John Grisham

So far, his firm had either spent or committed to spending just over $85,000 in
litigation expenses, moneys the clients were ultimately responsible for. The cost of the
case was rarely discussed, though it was always in their thoughts. While the clients were
troubled by rising expenses, Wade Lanier understood the economic realities of big-time
litigation. Two years earlier, his firm had spent $200,000 on a product liability case,
and lost.
You roll the dice and sometimes you lose. Wade Lanier, though, was not
contemplating a loss in the Seth Hubbard case.
Nevin Dark settled into a booth at the Coffee Shop with three of his new friends and
ordered iced tea from Dell. All four wore white lapel buttons with the word “Juror” in
bold blue letters, as if they were now officially off-limits and beyond approach. Dell had
seen the same buttons a hundred times, and knew she should listen hard but ask no
questions and offer no opinions.
The thirty-eight remaining jurors had been warned by Judge Atlee not to discuss the
case. Since none of the four at Nevin’s table had ever met, they chatted about
themselves for a few minutes while looking over the menus. Fran Decker was a retired
schoolteacher from Lake Village, ten miles south of Clanton. Charles Ozier sold farm
tractors for a company out of Tupelo and lived near the lake. Debbie Lacker lived in
downtown Palmyra, population 350, but had never met Seth Hubbard. Since they
couldn’t talk about the case, they talked about the judge, the courtroom, and the
lawyers. Dell listened hard but gleaned nothing from their lunch conversation, at least
nothing she could report to Jake in the event he stopped by later for the gossip.
At 1:15, they paid their separate checks and returned to the courtroom. At 1:30, when
all thirty-eight were accounted for, Judge Atlee appeared from the rear and said, “Good
afternoon.” He went on to explain that he would now continue with the selection of the
jury, and he planned to do so in a manner that was somewhat unusual. Each juror
would be asked to step into his chambers to be quizzed by the lawyers in private.
Jake had made this request because he assumed the jurors, as a group, knew more
about the case than they were willing to admit. By grilling them in private, he was
confident he could elicit more thorough responses. Wade Lanier did not object.
Judge Atlee said, “Mr. Nevin Dark, would you join us in my chambers, please?”
A bailiff showed him the way, and Nevin nervously walked past the bench, through a
door, down a short hallway, and into a rather small room where everyone was waiting.
A court reporter sat ready to transcribe every word. Judge Atlee occupied one end of the
table and the lawyers crowded around the rest of it.
“Please remember that you’re under oath, Mr. Dark,” Judge Atlee said.
“Of course.”
Jake Brigance flashed him an earnest smile and said, “Some of these questions might
be kind of personal, Mr. Dark, and if you don’t want to answer them, that’s fine. Do you
understand?”