Lucien, who hated early mornings and with good reason, looked surprisingly fresh and clear-eyed. He claimed he was drinking less and exercising more, and he was certainly working harder. Jake was finding it increasingly difficult to avoid him around his (their) office.

Lucien said, “I never thought I would see the day when Rufus Buckley was hauled away in handcuffs.”

“Beautiful, just beautiful, and still hard to believe,” Jake said. “I’m going to call Dumas and see if I can buy the photo of Buckley being led into the jail.”

“Please do, and make me a copy.”

“Eight-by-ten, framed. I could probably sell them.”

Roxy was forced to climb the stairs, enter Jake’s office, and walk to the balcony where she found her boss. She said, “That was Sheriff Walls. They’re on the way over.”

“Thanks.”

Jake and Lucien hurried across the street, and it was impossible to miss the fact that other law offices were being vacated as attorneys from around the square suddenly had urgent business in the courthouse. Poor Buckley had made so many enemies. The courtroom was far from packed, but quite a few of those enemies were milling about. It was blatantly obvious they were there for only one reason. A bailiff called things to order and Judge Atlee swept onto the bench. He nodded at a deputy and said, “Bring him in.” A side door opened and Buckley walked in, his wrists and ankles free. Except for the stubble and a bad hair day, he looked much the same as he had the day before. Judge Atlee had shown compassion and allowed him to change clothing. It would have been a bit too much of an embarrassment to parade him over in inmate’s attire. Given the coverage in the morning’s papers, Judge Atlee simply could not allow an officer of his court to be seen in such garb.

There was no sign of Sistrunk. The door closed and it became apparent he was not there to take part. “Over here, Mr. Buckley,” Judge Atlee said, pointing to a spot directly in front of the bench. Buckley complied and stood rather helplessly, quite alone, humiliated and defeated. He swallowed hard and looked up at the judge.

Judge Atlee shoved his microphone aside and said in a low voice, “I trust you survived the night in our fine jail.”

“I did.”

“And Sheriff Walls treated you well?”

“He did.”

“Did you and Mr. Sistrunk have a restful night together?”

“I wouldn’t call it restful, Your Honor, but we got through it.”

“Can’t help but notice that you’re here alone. Any word from Mr. Sistrunk?”

“Oh yes, he has a lot to say, Your Honor, but I’m not authorized to repeat any of it. I don’t think it would help his cause.”

“I’m sure of that. I don’t like being called names, Mr. Buckley, especially a name as harsh as ‘racist.’ It’s one of Mr. Sistrunk’s favorite words. I authorize you, as his co-counsel, to explain this to him and promise that if he ever calls me that again he, and you, will be barred from my courtroom.”

Buckley nodded and said, “I’ll be happy to pass that along, Judge.”

Jake and Lucien were seated four rows from the back, on a long mahogany bench that hadn’t been moved in decades. At the far end, a young black woman eased into view and took a seat. She was in her mid-twenties, attractive, vaguely familiar. She looked around quickly as if uncertain as to whether it was permissible to be there. She looked at Jake and he smiled. It’s okay. The courtroom is open to the public.

Judge Atlee said, “Thank you. Now the purpose of this little hearing this morning is to review matters and hopefully get you released from my order of contempt. I found you in contempt, Mr. Buckley, you and your co-counsel, because of what I considered a flagrant disrespect for my courtroom, and thus me. I admit I became angry, and I try to avoid making decisions when I’m emotional. I have learned over the years that those are always bad decisions. I do not regret what I did yesterday and I would take the same actions again today. Having said that, I would offer you the chance to respond.”

A deal had already been brokered by Ozzie. A simple acknowledgment, a simple apology, and the contempt orders would be lifted. Buckley had quickly agreed; Sistrunk was defiant.

Buckley shifted weight and looked at his feet. He said, “Yes, well, Your Honor, I realize we were out of line yesterday. We were presumptuous and disrespectful, and for that I apologize. It will not happen again.”

“Very well. The contempt order is hereby nullified.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Buckley said meekly, his shoulders sagging with relief.

“Now, Mr. Buckley, I’ve set a trial date for April 3. There is a lot of work to be done, a lot of meetings when you lawyers get together, and I suppose quite a few more hearings in this courtroom. We cannot have a brawl or a circus every time we’re in the same room. Things are very tense. We all acknowledge there’s a lot at stake. And so my question for you is this: How do you see your role in this case, you and your Memphis co-counsel?”

Suddenly a free man, and given the chance to speak, Rufus Buckley cleared his throat and seized the moment with confidence. “Well, Your Honor, we will be here to protect the rights of our client, Ms. Lettie Lang and—”

“I get that. I’m talking about the trial, Mr. Buckley. It seems to me that there’s simply not enough room for Mr. Brigance, the lead attorney for the proponents of the will, and all the lawyers representing the beneficiary. It’s just too crowded, know what I mean?”

“Well, not really, Your Honor.”

“Okay, I’ll be blunt. A person who wishes to contest a will has the right to hire a lawyer and file a petition,” he said as he waved an arm at the lawyers on the other side. “That lawyer is then involved in the case from start to finish. On the other hand, the proponents of the will are represented by the attorney for the estate. In this case, it’s Mr. Brigance. The individual beneficiaries sort of ride his coattails.”

“Oh, I disagree, Your Honor, we—”

“Hold on. What I’m saying, Mr. Buckley, with all due respect, is that I’m not sure you’re really needed. Maybe you are, but you’ll have to convince me later. We have plenty of time. Just think about it, okay?”

“Well, Judge, I think—”

Judge Atlee showed him his palms and said, “That’s enough. I’ll not argue this. Maybe another day.”

For an instant, Buckley seemed ready for an argument, then quickly remembered why he was there. No sense irritating the judge again. “Sure, Judge, and thank you.”

“You’re free to go.”

Jake glanced at the young woman again. Tight jeans, a red sweater, well-worn yellow running shoes, short hair and stylish glasses. She appeared lean and fit and did not look like the typical twenty-five-year-old black woman in Ford County. She glanced at him and smiled.

Thirty minutes later, she was standing before Roxy’s desk, politely inquiring as to whether she might have a few minutes with Mr. Brigance. Name please? Portia Lang, daughter of Lettie. Mr. Brigance was very busy, but Roxy knew this might be important. She made her wait ten minutes, then found a gap in his schedule.

Jake welcomed her into his office. He offered coffee but she declined. They sat in a corner, Jake in an ancient leather chair and Portia on the sofa, as if she were there for therapy. She could not help but gaze around the big room and admire its handsome furnishings and organized clutter. She admitted that it was her first visit to a lawyer’s office. “If you’re lucky it’ll be your last,” he said and got a laugh. She was nervous and at first reluctant to say much. Her presence could be crucial, and Jake worked to make her feel welcome.