Sycamore Row - John Grisham

“I have no idea. Probably one appointed by the court. I doubt if he can afford his
own.”
“What will he get, Jake?” asked Roy Kern, a plumber who’d worked on Jake’s
previous home.
“A lot. Two counts of vehicular homicide at five to twenty-five a pop. Don’t know how
it’ll go down, but Judge Noose is tough in these cases. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got
twenty or thirty years.”
“Why not the death penalty?” asked Nugent.
“It’s not a death case because—”
“The hell it ain’t. You got two dead kids.”
“There was no deliberate effort to kill, nothing premeditated. A death penalty case
requires murder plus something else: murder plus rape; murder plus robbery; murder
plus kidnapping. This could never be a death case.”
This was not well received by the crowd. When stirred up, the gang at the Coffee Shop
could resemble the beginnings of a lynch mob, but it always settled down after
breakfast. Jake sprinkled Tabasco on his grits and began buttering his toast.
Nugent asked, “Can the Rostons get any of the money?”
The money? As if Seth’s estate were now available and thus vulnerable.
Jake laid down his fork and looked at Nugent. He reminded himself that these were
his people, his clients and friends, and they just needed reassuring. They did not
understand the ins and outs of the law and of probate, and they were concerned that an
injustice might be in the works. “No,” Jake said pleasantly, “there’s no way. It will be
months, probably years before Mr. Hubbard’s money is finally disbursed, and as of right
now we really don’t know who’ll get it. The trial will help settle things, but its verdict
will certainly be appealed. And even if Lettie Lang eventually gets all the money, or 90
percent of it, her husband doesn’t get a dime. He’ll be locked away anyway. The Rostons
will not have the right to make a claim against Lettie.”
He took a bite of toast and chewed quickly. He wanted to control the spin and not
waste time with his mouth full.
“He won’t get out on bond, will he Jake?” asked Bill West.
“I doubt it. A bond will be set, but it’ll probably be too high. My guess is he’ll stay in
jail until he either pleads under an agreement or goes to trial.”
“What kinda defense could he use?”
Jake shook his head as if there could be no defense. “He was drunk and there’s an
eyewitness, right Marshall?”
“Yep. Guy saw it all.”
Jake continued, “I see a plea bargain and a long sentence.”
“Ain’t he got a boy in prison?” asked Nugent.
“He does. Marvis.”
“Maybe he can bunk with his boy, join the same gang, have all sorts of fun at
Parchman,” Nugent said and got some laughs. Jake laughed too, then attacked his
breakfast. He was relieved the conversation had moved away from any connection he
might have to Simeon Lang.