Sycamore Row

Seth Hubbard shortly after you found his body, correct?”
    “That’s right.”
    “What did you do with them?”
    “We took them into our possession, made copies, then the following day gave them to Mr. Hubbard’s family at his home.”
    “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”
    “Any cross-examination, Mr. Lanier?”
    “None.”
    “You are excused, Sheriff Walls. Thank you. Mr. Brigance?”
    “Yes, Your Honor, at this time I would like for the jury to be instructed that it has been stipulated by all parties that the documents just admitted into evidence were indeed written by Mr. Seth Hubbard.”
    “Mr. Lanier?”
    “So stipulated, Your Honor.”
    “Very well, there is no dispute as to the authorship of these documents. Proceed, Mr. Brigance.”
    Jake said, “The proponents call Mr. Calvin Boggs.” They waited until Calvin was summoned from a witness room. He was a largecountry boy who’d never owned a necktie, and it was obvious he had not even considered buying one for the occasion. He wore a frayed plaid shirt with patches on the elbows, dirty khakis, dirty boots, and looked as though he just wandered into the courtroom from a pulpwood-cutting expedition. He was thoroughly intimidated and overwhelmed by the surroundings, and within seconds began to choke up as he described his horror at finding his boss hanging from a sycamore tree.
    “What time did he call you that Sunday morning?” Jake asked.
    “Around nine, said to meet him at the bridge at two.”
    “And you arrived at two on the dot, right?”
    “Yes sir, I did.”
    Jake’s plan was to use Boggs to illustrate how Seth took care of the details. He would later argue to the jury that Seth left the note on the table, packed up his rope and ladder, drove to the site, and made sure he was good and dead when Calvin arrived at 2:00 p.m. He wanted to be found not long after he died. Otherwise, it could have been days.
    Lanier had nothing to ask. The witness was dismissed.
    “Call your next witness, Mr. Brigance,” Judge Atlee said.
    Jake said, “The proponents call the county coroner, Finn Plunkett.”
    Finn Plunkett was a rural mail carrier when he was first elected county coroner thirteen years earlier. At the time, he had no experience in medicine; none was required in Mississippi. He had never visited a crime scene. The fact that the state still elected its county coroners was odd enough; it was one of the last states to do so. Indeed, it was one of the few to ever initiate the ritual to begin with. For the past thirteen years, Finn had been called at all hours of the day and night to such locations as nursing homes, hospitals, accident scenes, honky-tonks, rivers and lakes, and homes wrecked by violence. His typical routine was to hover over a corpse and solemnly pronounce, “Yep, he’s dead.” Then he would speculate on the cause of death and sign a certificate.
    He had been present when Seth was lowered to the ground. He’d said, “Yep, he’s dead.” Death by hanging, a suicide. Asphyxiation and a broken neck. With Jake leading him through his testimony, he quickly explained to the jury what was already painfully obvious. Wade Lanier had no cross-examination.
    Jake called to the stand his ex-secretary, Roxy Brisco, who, since she’d left the office with bad blood, had initially refused to testify. So Jake issued a subpoena and explained she might go to jail if she ignoredit. She quickly came around, and took the stand dressed fashionably for the moment. Tag-teaming, they walked through the events of the morning of October 3, when she arrived at the office with the mail. She identified the envelope, letter, and two-page will from Seth Hubbard, and Judge Atlee admitted them into evidence as exhibits for the proponents. There was no objection from the other side. Following a script that had been suggested by His Honor, Jake projected on the screen an enlarged version of the letter to him from Seth. He also handed a copy to each juror. Judge Atlee said, “Now, ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to pause for a moment while each of you carefully reads this letter.”
    The courtroom was instantly silent as the jurors read their copies and the spectators studied the screen.
     … herein you will find my last will and testament, every word written by me and signed and dated by me. I’ve checked the law of Mississippi and am satisfied that it is a proper holographic will, thus entitled to full enforcement under the law. No one