Sycamore Row

for cause. Any discussion?”
    Slowly, Lanier said, “Yes, Your Honor, why number fifteen?”
    “He said he knew the Roston family and was deeply saddened by the deaths of their two sons. I suspect he holds a grudge against anyone with the last name of Lang.”
    “He said he did not, Your Honor,” Lanier argued.
    “Of course that’s what he said. I just don’t believe him. He’s excused for cause. Anyone else?”
    Jake shook his head no. Lanier was angry but said nothing. Judge Atlee pressed on, “Each side has four peremptory challenges. Mr. Brigance, you must present the first twelve.”
    Jake nervously scanned his notes, then slowly said, “Okay, we’ll take numbers one, two, five, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen, seventeen, nineteen, twenty-one, and twenty-two.” There was a long pause as everyone in the room looked at their charts and made notes. Finally, Judge Atlee said, “So you struck six, thirteen, twenty, and twenty-three, correct?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Are you ready, Mr. Lanier?”
    “Just a second, Judge,” Lanier said as he huddled with Lester Chilcott. They whispered for a while, obviously in disagreement. Jake listenedhard but could not decipher anything. He kept his eyes on his notes, on his chosen twelve, knowing he could not keep them all.
    “Gentlemen,” Judge Atlee said.
    “Yes sir,” Lanier said slowly. “We’ll strike numbers five, sixteen, twenty-five, and twenty-seven.”
    The air left the room again as every lawyer and the judge struck names from makeshift charts and moved the higher numbers up the ladder. Judge Atlee said, “So, it looks like our jury will consist of numbers one, two, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, seventeen, nineteen, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-six, and twenty-eight. Does everyone concur?”
    The lawyers shook their heads in agreement without taking their eyes from their legal pads. Ten whites, two blacks. Eight women, four men. Half had wills, half did not. Three had college degrees; seven finished high school; two did not. Median age of forty-nine, with two women in their twenties, a pleasant surprise for Jake. Overall he was pleased. On the other side of the table, Wade Lanier was too. The truth was that Judge Atlee did a fine job of eliminating those who might possibly begin deliberations with preconceived notions or prejudices. On paper, it appeared as if the extremists were gone, and the trial was left in the hands of twelve people who appeared to be open-minded.
    “Let’s pick a couple of alternates,” His Honor said.

    At 7:00 p.m., the new jurors gathered in the jury room and got themselves organized, according to Judge Atlee’s instructions. Because he had been the first one selected, the first name called, the first to be seated, and because he gave every indication of being an amicable type with an easy smile and kind word to all, Mr. Nevin Dark was elected foreman of the jury.
    It had been a very long day, but an exciting one. As he drove home, he found himself eager to chat with his wife over a late dinner and tell her everything. Judge Atlee had warned them against discussing the case with each other, but he didn’t say a word about spouses.

40
    Lucien shuffled the deck and deftly dealt ten cards to Lonny and the same to himself. As usual now, Lonny slowly lifted his cards from the top of the folding table and took forever arranging them in his preferred order. His hands and words were slow, but his mind seemed to be clicking right along. He was up thirty points in this their fifth game of gin rummy; he’d won three of the first four. He was wearing a saggy hospital gown and an IV hung just over his head. A nicer nurse had given him permission to leave his bed and play cards in front of the window, but only after Lonny had raised his voice. He was sick and tired of the hospital and wanted to leave. But then, he really had no place to go. Only the city jail, where the food was even worse and the cops were waiting with questions. In fact, they were waiting just outside his door now. Thirty kilos of cocaine will always create problems. His new pal Lucien, who said he was a lawyer, had guaranteed him the evidence would be tossed on a motion to suppress. The cops had no probable cause to enter Lonny’s room at the flophouse. Just because a man gets hurt in a bar fight does not give the police the right to rummage through his locked living quarters. “It’s a slam dunk,” Lucien had promised. “Any half-assed