Sycamore Row - John Grisham

“Your Honor, my name is Arthur Welch and I practice law over in Clarksdale. I’m here
to represent Mr. Lang.”
Bullard looked at him as if to say, “What the hell for?” Instead, he asked Simeon, “Mr.
Lang, is Mr. Welch your lawyer?”
“He is.”
“Okay, now Mr. Lang, you have been charged with two counts of vehicular homicide
and one count of driving under the influence. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty.”
“No surprise there. I’ll set a preliminary hearing in about thirty days. Mr. Welch, you
will be notified by my clerk. I assume you’d like to discuss bail.”
As if reading from a script, Welch said, “Yes, Your Honor, we would like to request a
reasonable bail at this time. Mr. Lang has a wife and family here in the county and has
lived here his entire life. He is not a risk to flee and has assured me, and will assure you,
that he always shows up in court when required to.”
“Thank you. Bail is hereby set at $2 million, one million for each count of vehicular
homicide. Anything else, Mr. Welch?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Mr. Lang you are remanded to the custody of the Ford County sheriff until
you make bail or are called for by this court.” He tapped his gavel lightly and winked at
Welch. Simeon was re-handcuffed and taken from the courtroom. Welch followed him,
and outside, under the rear terrace, exactly where the criminal defendants were always
photographed when they were newsworthy enough to be photographed, Dumas Lee
clicked away and got plenty of shots of Lang and his lawyer. Later, he chatted with
Welch, who had little to report but was nonetheless quite willing to talk. He was
completely vague on his involvement in a case two hours from home.
Welch had been rolled out of bed at 5:00 that morning with a profane phone call from
Harry Rex Vonner, an old roommate from law school. Welch had handled two of Harry
Rex’s divorces and Harry Rex had handled two of Welch’s, and they owed each other so
many favors and debts and IOUs that keeping score was impossible. Harry Rex needed
him instantly in Clanton, and Welch, cursing for two hours, made the drive. He had no
plans to represent Simeon Lang beyond the indictment and would punt the case in a
month or so.
As Harry Rex explained, in some of the most colorful and abusive language
imaginable, it was important for the local folks to see and realize that Simeon Lang was
not represented by Jake Brigance, but rather by some scumbag they’d never heard of.
Welch understood perfectly. It was another clear example of what was never taught in
law school.
It was early on Friday afternoon, the weather was cold and damp, and Jake was
suffering through the weekly ritual of trying to tie up some of the week’s loose ends so
they wouldn’t grow and fester and ruin his Monday. Among his many unwritten but