A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,217

non-suit and everybody went home. The next day it was revealed that the jury had just decided to give his client a generous verdict. He refiled, tried the case a year later, and lost. His client sued him for malpractice, and won. Defense lawyers hated the rule. Plaintiffs’ lawyers knew it was unfair but fought to keep it. Most states had moved on to more modern procedures.

“What an archaic rule,” Jake said.

“True, but it’s still on the books. Use it to your advantage.”

Jake finished his beer. It was obvious that Lucien was in no hurry and was enjoying the moment. Jake asked, “And what might happen in chancery?”

“Good things. Reuben assumes jurisdiction of the case because of the guardianship and his responsibility to protect the child. He sets a trial date and off you go.”

“A bench trial, no jury.”

“Correct. The defense might request a jury, but Reuben will say no.”

Jake took a deep breath and said, “I need a shot of that brown stuff.”

“The bar hasn’t moved. Careful, though, or your wife might hit you.”

“My wife might be drinking too when she hears this.”

He left and returned with a Jack on ice. “If you will recall, Lucien, Harry Rex and I debated this very issue before we filed suit. I think you might have been in the room during one or two of our conversations. We decided to avoid chancery court because the Honorable Reuben Atlee is so damn tightfisted with money. To him, a hundred-thousand-dollar verdict is obscene, a violation of the rules of an orderly society. He’s a miser, a skinflint, a cheapskate. Lawyers have to beg to get a few bucks for their guardians.”

“He was generous to you during the Hubbard will contest.”

“He was, and we talked about that too. But there was so much money on the table it was easier to be generous. We filed Smallwood in circuit court because we liked our chances better with a jury.”

“True, Jake, and you wanted a big courtroom victory, a record-setting verdict that would put you on the map as a trial lawyer.”

“I did. Still do.”

“Well, you’re not getting that verdict with Smallwood, not in circuit court.”

“So, Judge Atlee wants to preside over the trial?”

“There won’t be a trial, Jake. He’ll force the railroad to settle, something he’s very good at. He did it with Hubbard.”

“He did, but after I won the trial.”

“And the settlement was fair, everybody got something, and the appeals were avoided. Right?”

“Right.”

“Same here. Refile in chancery and Reuben will take over. He’ll protect the child, and the lawyers too.”

Jake took a long sip, then closed his eyes and rocked gently. He could feel the pressure lift from his shoulders, the stress ooze from his pores. The alcohol was settling in and his breathing relaxed. For the first time in months there was a light in the distance.

The fact that Judge Atlee was sitting in the same rocker twenty-four hours earlier and telling Lucien what he should tell young Jake was difficult to absorb.

But then, it sounded just like Reuben.

54

Ozzie was waiting at the jail when Jake arrived early Saturday morning. He was cordial enough but did not offer a handshake. Mr. Zack fetched the prisoner, and Drew appeared at the desk with an army surplus duffel stuffed with everything he owned. Jake signed several forms and Drew signed an inventory sheet. They followed Ozzie through a back door to where Jake was parked. Outside, Drew stopped for a second and looked around, his first taste of freedom in almost five months. When Jake opened his driver’s door, Ozzie said, “How ’bout lunch next week?”

“I’d like that, Ozzie. Anytime.”

They drove away without being seen and five minutes later parked in Jake’s driveway. Carla met them on the patio and grabbed Drew for a long, fierce hug. They went inside to the kitchen where a feast was being prepared. Jake led him downstairs to his bathroom and gave him a towel. “Take a hot shower, as long as you want, then we’ll have breakfast.”

Drew emerged half an hour later with wet hair, wearing a cool Springsteen T-shirt, denim shorts, and a pair of brand-new Nikes, which he said fit perfectly. Jake handed him three $1 bills and said, “For blackjack. Keep the change.”

He looked at the money and said, “Come on, Jake. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Take the money. You won it fair and square, and I always pay my gambling debts.”

Drew reluctantly took the money and sat at the table where Hanna was waiting.