Sycamore Row

played it safe. “A good panel,” he said. “Gotta run.”
    Harry Rex’s response was, “I was worried about that guy. Something wasn’t right.”
    To which Jake shot back, “Well, I don’t recall you saying anything at the time. It’s always easy to call plays on Monday morning.”
    “Testy, testy.”
    Portia said, “He seemed eager to serve. I gave him an eight.”
    Jake said, “Well, we’re stuck with him. He gave all the right answers.”
    “Maybe you didn’t ask the right questions,” Harry Rex said as he took another swig of Bud Light.
    “Thank you so much, Harry Rex. For your own future reference, during the jury selection process lawyers are not normally allowed to ask questions like, ‘Say, Mr. Doley, is it true your distant cousin was gang-raped by a bunch of black thugs in Memphis?’ and the reason for this prohibition is that the lawyers generally don’t know about such horrible crimes.”
    “I’m going home.” Another swig.
    “Let’s all go home,” Portia said. “We’re not accomplishing much.”
    It was almost 10:30 when they turned out the lights. Jake walked around the square to clear his head. At the Sullivan firm, lights were still on. Wade Lanier and his team were still in there, still working.

41
    In his defense of Carl Lee Hailey, Jake’s opening statement to the jury lasted only fourteen minutes. Rufus Buckley had kicked things off with a one-and-a-half-hour marathon that had put the jury to sleep, and Jake’s concise follow-up had been well received and much appreciated. The jury had listened to him and absorbed every word. “Jurors are captives,” Lucien always said. “So keep it short.”
    In the matter of the last will and testament of Henry Seth Hubbard, Jake was aiming for ten minutes. He stepped to the podium, smiled to the fresh and eager faces, and began with “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, your job is not to give away Seth Hubbard’s money. There’s a lot of it, and all of it was earned by Seth Hubbard himself. Not by you, not by me, not by any of the lawyers in this courtroom. He took chances, borrowed heavily at times, ignored the advice of his trusted lieutenants, mortgaged his own house and land, made deals that looked bad on paper, borrowed even more, took risks that seemed outrageous, and in the end, when Seth Hubbard was told he was dying of lung cancer, he sold out. He cashed in his chips, paid off the banks, and counted his money. He won. He was right and everybody else was wrong. You can’t help but admire Seth Hubbard. I never met the man, but I wish I had.
    “How much money? You will hear testimony from Mr. Quince Lundy, the gentleman sitting right here, and the court-appointed administrator of Seth Hubbard’s estate, that the estate has a value of approximately $24 million.”
    Jake was pacing slowly, and when he gave the amount he stopped and looked at some of the faces. Almost every juror smiled. Go, Seth.Attaboy. A couple were obviously shocked. Tracy McMillen, Juror Number Two, looked at Jake with wide eyes. But the moment passed quickly. No one in Ford County could grasp a number like that.
    “Now, if you think a man who put together a $24 million fortune in about ten years knows what he’s doing with his money, then you’re right. Because Seth knew exactly what he was doing. The day before he hung himself he went to his office, locked his door, sat down at his desk, and wrote a new will. A handwritten will, one perfectly legal, nice and legible, easy to understand, not the least bit complicated or confusing. He knew he was going to commit suicide the following day, Sunday, October 2, and he was putting everything in order. He planned it all. He wrote a note to a man named Calvin Boggs, an employee, in which he explained he was taking his own life. You will see the original. He wrote detailed funeral and burial instructions. You will see the originals. And on that same Saturday, presumably at his office while he was writing his will, he wrote a letter to me and gave me specific instructions. Again, you will see the original. He planned it all. After he finished writing, he drove to Clanton, to the main post office, and mailed the letter to me, along with the will. He wanted me to receive the letter on Monday because his funeral was on Tuesday, at 4:00 pm., at the Irish Road Christian Church. Details, folks. Seth took care of the details. He knew exactly what he was doing. He planned it all.
    “Now, as I said, it’s not