Sycamore Row

overruled. You can see this, Judge, right?”
    Judge Atlee said nothing and gave nothing away with his eyes. After a few, heavy seconds, he looked down at a clerk and said, “See if Sheriff Walls is in the courthouse.”
    That directive might have frightened Rufus Buckley, and it might have amused Jake and the lawyers on the other side, but it angered Booker Sistrunk. He stiffened his spine and said, “Your Honor, I have the right to speak.”
    “Not yet, you don’t. Please sit down, Mr. Sistrunk.”
    “I object to your tone, Your Honor. I represent the beneficiary of this will, Ms. Lettie Lang, and I have the duty to protect her interests at every turn.”
    “Sit down, Mr. Sistrunk.”
    “I will not be silenced, Your Honor. Not too many years ago, lawyers like me were not allowed to speak in this very courtroom. For years they could not enter, and once inside they were not allowed to speak.”
    “Sit down before I hold you in contempt.”
    “Don’t threaten me, Judge,” Sistrunk said as he stepped from behind the table. “I have the right to speak, to advocate for my client, and I will not be silenced by some arcane technicality in your rules of procedure.”
    “Sit down before I hold you in contempt.”
    Sistrunk took another step forward as the lawyers and everyone else stared in disbelief. “I will not sit down,” he snapped angrily, and Jake thought he was losing his mind. “This is the very reason I filed a motion asking you to recuse yourself. It’s obvious to me and many others that you have a racial bias in this case and there’s no way my client can get a fair trial. This is also the reason we filed a motion demanding a change of venue. Finding an impartial jury in this, this town here, well, it will be impossible. Justice demands that this trial be held in another courtroom in front of another judge.”
    “You’re in contempt, Mr. Sistrunk.”
    “I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes to fight for my client, and if I have to go to federal court to make sure we get a fair trial, then that’s what I’m willing to do. I’ll file a federal lawsuit against anybody who gets in my way.” Two courtroom deputies were slowly making their way toward Sistrunk. Suddenly, he spun and pointed a finger at one. “Don’t touch me unless you want to be named in a federal lawsuit. Stay away!”
    “Where is Sheriff Walls?” Judge Atlee asked.
    A clerk nodded and said, “Here.” Ozzie was coming through the door. He stormed down the aisle with Deputy Willie Hastings behind him. Judge Atlee rapped his gavel and said, “Mr. Sistrunk, I find you in contempt and order you into the custody of the Ford County sheriff. Sheriff Walls, please take him away.”
    “You can’t do this!” Sistrunk yelled. “I’m a duly licensed lawyer, admitted to practice before the U.S. Supreme Court. I’m here on behalf of my client. I’m here with local counsel. You can’t do this, Your Honor. This is discriminatory and highly prejudicial to my client.” By then, Ozzie was within striking distance, and ready to pounce if necessary. He was also three inches taller, ten years younger, thirty pounds heavier, armed, and the look on his face left little doubt he would enjoy a good rumble in front of the home crowd. He grabbed Sistrunk’s elbow, and for a brief second there was resistance. Ozzie squeezed and said, “Hands behind your back.”
    At that point, Booker Sistrunk was exactly where he wanted to be. With a fine effort at drama, he lowered his head, swung his hands behind his back, and suffered the indignity of being arrested. He looked at Kendrick Bost. Some of those nearby would later claim they saw a nasty little grin; others did not. Surrounded by deputies, Sistrunk was jostled through the bar and down the aisle. As he passed near Lettie, he said loudly, “I’ll get ’em, Lettie. Don’t you worry. These racists will never get your money. Just trust me.” They shoved him farther down the aisle and out the doors.
    For reasons no one would ever understand, Rufus Buckley felt compelled to say something. He stood in the deathly silent courtroom and said, “Your Honor, if it please the court, I must say this puts us at a distinct disadvantage.”
    Judge Atlee looked at one of the remaining deputies, pointed at Buckley, and said, “Take him too.”
    “What?” Buckley gasped.
    “I find you in contempt, Mr. Buckley. Please take him away.”
    “But why, Your Honor?”
    “Because you are