Sycamore Row - John Grisham

“I do.”
“Do you currently have a last will and testament?”
“I do.”
“Who prepared it?”
“Barney Suggs, a lawyer in Karaway.”
“And your wife?”
“Yes, we signed them at the same time, in Mr. Suggs’s office, about three years ago.”
Without asking the specifics of their wills, Jake nibbled around the edges of the willmaking
process. What prompted them to prepare their wills? Do their children know
what’s in the wills? How often have they changed their wills? Did they name each other
as executor of their wills? Have they ever inherited anything from another will? Did he,
Nevin Dark, believe a person should have the right to leave his property to anyone? To
a non–family member? To charity? To a friend or employee? To cut out family members
who may have fallen out of favor? Had either Mr. Dark or his wife ever considered
changing their wills to exclude a person currently named as a beneficiary?
And so on. When Jake finished, Wade Lanier asked a series of questions about drugs
and painkillers. Nevin Dark said he’d used them only sparingly, but his wife was a
breast cancer survivor and at one time had relied on some strong medications for pain.
He could not remember their names. Lanier showed genuine concern for this woman
he’d never met, and poked and prodded enough to convey the message that strong
painkillers taken by very sick people often cause a lapse in rational thinking. The seed
was skillfully planted.
Judge Atlee was watching the clock, and after ten minutes he called time. Nevin
returned to the courtroom, where everyone stared at him. Juror Number Two, Tracy
McMillen, was waiting in a chair by the bench, and was quickly led to the back room,
where she faced the same questioning.
Boredom hit hard and many of the spectators left. Some of the jurors napped while
others read and reread newspapers and magazines. Bailiffs yawned and gazed from the
large plate-glass windows overlooking the courthouse lawn. One prospective juror
replaced the next in a steady parade to Judge Atlee’s chambers. Most disappeared for
the full ten minutes, but a few were finished in less time. When Juror Number Eleven
emerged from her interrogation, she passed the benches and headed for the door,
excused from service for reasons those sitting in the courtroom would never know.
Lettie and Phedra left for a long break. As they walked down the aisle toward the
double doors, they were careful to avoid glancing at the Hubbard clan, bunched together
on the back row.
It was almost 6:30 when Juror Number Thirty-eight left chambers and returned to the
courtroom. Judge Atlee, showing remarkable energy, rubbed his hands together and
said, “Gentlemen, let’s finish this job now so we can start fresh with the opening
statements in the morning. Agreed?”