Sycamore Row

more trial experience, not to mention the clients with the greatest interests. Divide the work any way you want—I wouldn’t dare give advice,” he said gravely, advising. “I’m not trying to muzzle anyone. You have the right to advocate for your client or clients. Each of you may call your own witnesses and cross-examine those called by the proponents. But the first time you start repeating what’s already been said, as lawyers have a natural inclination to do, you can expect swift intervention from up here. I will not tolerate it. Are we on the same page?”
    They certainly were, for the moment anyway.
    He jammed the reading glasses back onto his nose and looked at hisnotes. “Let’s talk about exhibits,” he said. They spent an hour discussing the documents that would be admitted into evidence and shown to the jury. At Judge Atlee’s heavy-handed insistence, the handwriting was stipulated to be that of Henry Seth Hubbard. Arguing otherwise would be a waste of time. The cause of death was stipulated. Four large color photos were approved. They showed Seth hanging from the tree and eliminated any doubt as to how he died.
    Then Judge Atlee said, “Now, let’s review the witnesses. I see that Mr. Lanier has added quite a few.”
    Jake had been waiting impatiently for over an hour. He tried to keep his cool, but it was difficult. He said, “Your Honor, I’m going to object to a lot of these witnesses being allowed to testify at trial. If you’ll look on page six, beginning there and running for a while, you see the names of forty-five potential witnesses. Looking at their addresses, I’m assuming these people worked in Mr. Hubbard’s various factories and plants. I don’t know because I’ve never seen these names before. I’ve checked the latest updated responses to interrogatories, and of the forty-five, only fifteen or sixteen have ever been mentioned by the contestants before today. Under the rules, I was entitled to have these names months ago. It’s called a witness dump, Your Honor. Dump a pile of witnesses on the table two weeks before the trial, and there’s no way I can possibly talk to them all and find out what their testimony might be. Forget depositions—it would take another six months. This is a clear violation of the rules, and it’s underhanded.”
    Judge Atlee scowled at the other table and said, “Mr. Lanier?”
    Lanier stood and said, “May I stretch my legs, Your Honor? I have a bad knee.”
    “Whatever.”
    Lanier began pacing in front of his table, limping slightly. Probably a courtroom trick of some variety, Jake thought.
    “Your Honor, this is not underhanded and I resent the accusation. Discovery is always a work in progress. New names are always popping up. Reluctant witnesses sometimes come forward at the last minute. One witness remembers another one, or another one, or he remembers something else that happened. We’ve had investigators digging and digging for five months now, nonstop, and, frankly, we’ve outworked the other side. We’ve found more witnesses, and we’re still looking for more. Mr. Brigance has two weeks to call or go see any witness on my list. Two weeks. No, it’s not a lot of time, but is there ever enoughtime? We know there is not. This is the way high-powered litigation goes, Your Honor. Both sides scramble until the very last moment.” Pacing, limping, arguing quite effectively, Lanier inspired grudging admiration, though at the same time Jake wanted to throw a hatchet at him. Lanier did not play by the rules but he was quite adept at legitimizing his cheating.
    For Wade Lanier, it was a crucial moment. Buried in the list of forty-five was the name Julina Kidd, the only black woman Randall Clapp had found so far who was willing to testify and admit she’d slept with Seth. For $5,000 plus expenses, she had agreed to travel to Clanton and testify. She had also agreed to ignore phone calls or any contact from any other lawyer, namely one Jake Brigance, who might show up desperately sniffing around for clues.
    Not buried in the list was Fritz Pickering; his name had not been mentioned, nor would it be until a critical moment in the trial.
    Judge Atlee asked Jake, “How many depositions have you taken?”
    Jake replied, “Together, we’ve taken thirty depositions.”
    “Sounds like a lot to me. And they’re not cheap. Mr. Lanier, surely you don’t plan to call forty-five witnesses.”
    “Of course not, Your Honor, but the rules