Sycamore Row - John Grisham

was blatantly obvious they were there for only one reason. A bailiff called things to
order and Judge Atlee swept onto the bench. He nodded at a deputy and said, “Bring
him in.” A side door opened and Buckley walked in, his wrists and ankles free. Except
for the stubble and a bad hair day, he looked much the same as he had the day before.
Judge Atlee had shown compassion and allowed him to change clothing. It would have
been a bit too much of an embarrassment to parade him over in inmate’s attire. Given
the coverage in the morning’s papers, Judge Atlee simply could not allow an officer of
his court to be seen in such garb.
There was no sign of Sistrunk. The door closed and it became apparent he was not
there to take part. “Over here, Mr. Buckley,” Judge Atlee said, pointing to a spot
directly in front of the bench. Buckley complied and stood rather helplessly, quite alone,
humiliated and defeated. He swallowed hard and looked up at the judge.
Judge Atlee shoved his microphone aside and said in a low voice, “I trust you survived
the night in our fine jail.”
“I did.”
“And Sheriff Walls treated you well?”
“He did.”
“Did you and Mr. Sistrunk have a restful night together?”
“I wouldn’t call it restful, Your Honor, but we got through it.”
“Can’t help but notice that you’re here alone. Any word from Mr. Sistrunk?”
“Oh yes, he has a lot to say, Your Honor, but I’m not authorized to repeat any of it. I
don’t think it would help his cause.”
“I’m sure of that. I don’t like being called names, Mr. Buckley, especially a name as
harsh as ‘racist.’ It’s one of Mr. Sistrunk’s favorite words. I authorize you, as his cocounsel,
to explain this to him and promise that if he ever calls me that again he, and
you, will be barred from my courtroom.”
Buckley nodded and said, “I’ll be happy to pass that along, Judge.”
Jake and Lucien were seated four rows from the back, on a long mahogany bench that
hadn’t been moved in decades. At the far end, a young black woman eased into view
and took a seat. She was in her mid-twenties, attractive, vaguely familiar. She looked
around quickly as if uncertain as to whether it was permissible to be there. She looked at
Jake and he smiled. It’s okay. The courtroom is open to the public.
Judge Atlee said, “Thank you. Now the purpose of this little hearing this morning is to
review matters and hopefully get you released from my order of contempt. I found you
in contempt, Mr. Buckley, you and your co-counsel, because of what I considered a
flagrant disrespect for my courtroom, and thus me. I admit I became angry, and I try to
avoid making decisions when I’m emotional. I have learned over the years that those
are always bad decisions. I do not regret what I did yesterday and I would take the same
actions again today. Having said that, I would offer you the chance to respond.”
A deal had already been brokered by Ozzie. A simple acknowledgment, a simple
apology, and the contempt orders would be lifted. Buckley had quickly agreed; Sistrunk
was defiant.
Buckley shifted weight and looked at his feet. He said, “Yes, well, Your Honor, I