Sycamore Row

seriously contend that this will was written by someone other than Seth Hubbard?” His tone left little doubt about how he felt.
    Rush and Lanier stood slowly, neither eager to respond. Lanier said, “Your Honor, we’re still debating that point.”
    “Well hurry up,” Judge Atlee said rudely. “It’s a waste and you’re wasting my time. A blind man can see it’s his handwriting. Any expert who saunters into this courtroom and says otherwise will be laughed at by the jury and scorned by the court.”
    And with that, the handwriting issue was settled. They sat down. Lanier whispered to his sidekick, Lester Chilcott, “What else has he already decided?”
    Judge Atlee looked at Jake and growled, “Mr. Brigance, any progress in the search for Ancil Hubbard? Five percent of this inventory is a lot of money.”
    Well, no shit, Judge, Jake wanted to say as he was jolted out of another thought and stood properly, though rattled. “Not really, Your Honor. The search has turned up very little. It appears as though Ancil began using different names a long time ago. We’ve found no proof that he’s dead, and certainly nothing to prove he’s alive.”
    “Very well. Next on my list is a discussion about the jury pool. It’s been over eight years since I presided over a trial involving a jury, and I admit to being a bit rusty. I’ve spoken to Judge Noose, Judge Handleford, and others, so I’m getting good advice. They seem to think a pool of one hundred will be sufficient. Gentlemen?”
    Nothing.
    “Good. I’ll instruct the clerk to pull that many names at random from the voter registration rolls, and I’ll make the list available two weeks before trial, the same procedure as in Circuit Court. There will be the standard precautions and warnings against unauthorized contact with the potential jurors. This is a high-profile case, gentlemen, and at times I’m almost convinced every person in this county already has an opinion.”
    Jake stood and said, “In that case, Your Honor, perhaps we should consider a change of venue.”
    “Requesting one is up to you, Mr. Brigance. I’ve seen nothing in writing.”
    “I haven’t done so. I’m just speculating here. If most of our prospective jurors know about the case, then it seems like moving the case might be the proper thing to do.”
    “Mr. Lanier,” Judge Atlee said, looking at the other lawyers. “Mr. Rush. Mr. Zeitler. Anybody?”
    Wade Lanier straightened himself up with great frustration. “There’s never been a change of venue in a will contest in Mississippi. Not a single case. We’ve done the research.” Lester Chilcott was suddenly clawing his way through a thick briefcase. “And it seems a bit broad to declare that everyone in this county has formed an opinion before we’ve presented the evidence.” Chilcott handed him a thick brief. “Here it is, if the court would like to take a look. Not a single case.”
    Jake was impressed with the research; Judge Atlee less so. He said, “I’ll take your word for it, for now. I’ll review the research later.”
    Jake wasn’t serious about moving the case because he wanted it to stay in his courtroom, but there were advantages to having the trial in another county. These included (1) the possibility of more black jurors; (2) avoiding the lingering damage caused by Booker Sistrunk, his mouth, his race-baiting, and his black Rolls-Royce; (3) finding jurors who hadn’t gossiped about Lettie and her family, their problems, and their new rental home outside Lowtown; and (4) selecting a jury untainted with endless speculation about Lettie and Seth Hubbard and what they were really up to. These factors and issues had been debated by Jake, Lucien, and, increasingly, Portia, as the weeks passed. They could debate all they wanted, but it was a waste of time. Judge Atlee was not moving the case, and he had said as much to Jake. So Jake was bluffing, and enjoying the sight of his opponents scrambling in opposition. He said, “Judge, if you think every person in Ford County has an opinion, then I’ll file a motion to change venue.”
    Judge Atlee said, “I have a better idea, Mr. Brigance. Let’s summon our pool and start the selection process. We should know immediately if we’re wasting our time here. If it looks as though we can’t pick an impartial jury, then we’ll just move the trial somewhere else. There are lots of courtrooms in this state, at least one in every county.”
    Jake sat down, as