Sycamore Row - John Grisham

thought he looked lost. When he couldn’t think of anything, he said, repeatedly, “Seth
Hubbard lacked testamentary capacity.”
He brought up the 1987 will, and much to Jake’s delight, and much to the jurors’
dismay, he fleshed it out once more. “Three point one million dollars wasted, just like
that,” he said, snapping his fingers. He described a tax ploy known as the generationskipping
trust, and just when Juror Number Ten, Debbie Lacker, was about to nod off,
he said again, “Three point one million dollars wasted, just like that,” and snapped his
fingers loudly.
It was a cardinal sin to bore jurors who were pinned down and required to listen, but
Wade Lanier was pouring it on. Wisely, though, he did not attack Lettie Lang. Those
listening had just learned the truth about her family; it would not be wise to belittle or
condemn her.
As Lanier took a painful pause to assess his notes, Judge Atlee said, “You might want
to wrap this up, Mr. Lanier. You’re over the time limit.”
“Sorry, Your Honor.” Flustered, he offered a sappy thanks to the jury for their
“wonderful service” and concluded with a plea for faithful considerations, free from
emotion and guilt.
“Rebuttal, Mr. Brigance?” Judge Atlee asked. Jake was entitled to ten minutes to
counter anything Lanier had said. As the lawyer for the proponent, he got the last word,
but he wisely declined. “No, Your Honor, I think the jury has heard enough.”
“Very well. Now, ladies and gentlemen, I need to spend a few minutes and instruct
you as to what the law is and how it applies in this case, so listen carefully. When I’m
finished, you will retire to the jury room and begin your deliberations. Any questions?”
The waiting was always the worst part. A great load was lifted after the jury retired.
All the work was finished; all the witnesses had testified; all the worrying about opening
statements and closing arguments was over. Now the waiting began. There was no way
to predict how long it would take.
Jake invited Wade Lanier and Lester Chilcott to his office for a drink. It was, after all,
Friday afternoon and the week was over. They opened beers on the balcony upstairs
and watched the courthouse. Jake pointed to a large window in the distance. “That’s the
jury room,” he said. “That’s where they are right now.”
Lucien showed up, ready as always for a drink. He and Jake would have words later,
but at the moment the mood demanded alcohol. With a laugh, Wade said, “Come on,
Lucien, you gotta tell what happened in Juneau.”
Lucien gulped down half a beer, and started talking.
After everyone had either coffee, a soft drink, or water, Nevin Dark called their little
meeting to order and said, “I suggest we start with this verdict worksheet that the judge
has given us. Any objections to that?”