Sycamore Row

Good versus evil. I’m surprised you can’t see that.”
    “I see everything, Booker, and this is what’s obvious. You’re not gonna handle this case in front of Judge Atlee. Period. You’ve ripped it with him and he’s tired of you and your foolishness. Your name’s on his shit list and it’s not comin’ off.”
    “No problem, Sheriff. I’m taking it to federal court.”
    “Sure, you can file some bullshit civil rights crap in federal court, but it won’t stick. I’ve talked to some lawyers, some guys who do federal work, and they say you’re full of shit. Look, Booker, you can’t bully these judges down here the way you can in Memphis. We got three federal judges here in the Northern District. One’s a former Chancellor, like Atlee. One’s an ex–district attorney, and one used to be a federal prosecutor. All white. All fairly conservative. And you think you can walk into federal court down here and start slingin’ all your racist shit, and somebody’s gonna buy it. You’re a fool.”
    “And you’re not a lawyer, Mr. Sheriff. But thanks for the legal advice anyway. It’ll be forgotten by the time I get back to my cell.”
    Ozzie rocked back and flung his feet upon his desk, his cowboy boots impressive with a new shine. He gazed at the ceiling, frustrated, and said, “You’re makin’ it easy for the white folks to hate Lettie Lang, you know that, Booker?”
    “She’s black. They hated her long before I came to town.”
    “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been elected twice by the white folks in this county. Most of them are good people. They’ll give Lettie a fair shake, or at least they would have until you showed up. Now it’sblack versus white and we don’t have the votes. You’re an idiot, you know that, Booker? I don’t know what kinda law you do up in Memphis, but it ain’t workin’ down here.”
    “Thanks for the coffee and doughnuts. Can I go now?”
    “Please go.”
    Sistrunk stood and walked to the door, where he stopped and said, “By the way, I’m not sure your jail complies with federal law.”
    “Sue me.”
    “A lot of violations.”
    “It might get worse.”

    Portia was back before noon. She waited and chatted with Roxy while Jake finished a long phone call, then she went up the stairs. Her eyes were red, her hands shook, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. They managed some small talk about the dinner the night before. Finally, Jake asked, bluntly, “What’s going on?”
    She closed her eyes, rubbed her forehead and began talking. “We were up all night, one big nasty fight. Simeon was drinking, not bad, but enough to get himself riled up. Momma and I said that Sistrunk had to go. He, of course, didn’t like that, and so we fought. A houseful of people, and we’re fighting like a bunch of idiots. He finally left and we haven’t seen him since. That’s the bad news. The good news is that my mother will sign whatever it takes to get rid of the Memphis lawyers.”
    Jake walked to his desk, picked up a sheet of paper, and handed it to her. “It just says that she fires him. That’s all. If she signs it, then we’re in business.”
    “What about Simeon?”
    “He can hire all the lawyers he wants, but he’s not named in the will; therefore, he’s not an interested party. Judge Atlee will not recognize him, nor his lawyers. Simeon’s game is over. This is between Lettie and the Hubbard family. Will she sign it?”
    Portia stood and said, “I’ll be right back.”
    “Where is she?”
    “Outside in the car.”
    “Please ask her to come in.”
    “She doesn’t want to. She’s afraid you’re upset with her.”
    Jake couldn’t believe it. “Come on, Portia. I’ll make some coffee and we’ll have a chat. Go get your mother.”

    Sistrunk was reading and resting comfortably on his lower bunk, a stack of motions and briefs balanced on his stomach, his cellie sitting nearby with his nose stuck in a paperback. Metal clanged, the door unlatched, Ozzie appeared from nowhere and said, “Let’s go Booker.” He handed him his suit, shirt, and tie, all on one hanger. His shoes and socks were in a paper grocery bag.
    They sneaked out a rear door where Ozzie’s car was parked. A minute later they stopped behind the courthouse and hustled inside. The halls were empty and no one suspected anything. On the third floor they entered Judge Atlee’s cramped outer room. His court reporter doubled as his secretary. She pointed to another