Sycamore Row

American’s lost and found had no record of a briefcase being turned in on the flight from Atlanta. Reluctantly, the lone clerk began the task of trying to find it. Lucien found an airport lounge and ordered a pint of ale. Ozzie and Prather had a bad buffet lunch on a busy concourse, not far from the lounge. They were trying to keep an eye on their passenger. They called Jake’s office but there was no answer. It was almost 3:00 p.m., and he was obviously tied up in court.

The briefcase was located in Mi

Ozzie thanked the clerk and went to find Lucien. As they were leaving the airport, Lucien came to life and said, “Say, my car is here. I’ll just meet you guys in Clanton.”

Ozzie said, “No, Lucien, you’re drunk. You ca

Lucien angrily replied, “Ozzie, we’re in Memphis and you got no jurisdiction here. Kiss my ass! I’ll do any damn thing I want to do.”

Ozzie threw up his hands and walked away with Prather. They tried to follow Lucien as they left Memphis at rush hour, but couldn’t keep up with the dirty little Porsche as he weaved dangerously through heavy traffic. They drove on to Clanton, to Jake’s office, and arrived there just before seven. Jake was waiting for the debriefing.

The only slightly good news in an otherwise dreadful and frustrating day was Lucien’s arrest for public drunke

Two hours later, Jake drove to Lucien’s house. As he pulled in to the driveway, he noticed the Porsche wasn’t there. He spoke briefly to Sallie on the front porch and she promised to call as soon as he came home.

Miraculously, Lucien’s briefcase arrived in Memphis at midnight. Deputy Willie Hastings picked it up and drove to Clanton.

At 7:30 Friday morning, Jake, Harry Rex, and Ozzie gathered in the conference room downstairs and locked the door. Jake inserted the cassette into his video recorder and turned down the lights. The words Juneau, Alaska … April 5, 1989 appeared on the television screen, then disappeared after a few seconds. Jared Wolkowicz introduced himself and explained what they were doing. Lucien introduced himself and said that this was a deposition and he would be asking the questions. He looked clear-eyed, sober. He introduced Ancil F. Hubbard, who was sworn in by the court reporter.

Small, frail, his head as slick as a white onion, he was wearing Lucien’s black suit and white shirt, both several sizes too big. There was a bandage on the back of his head, and a strip of the adhesive tape holding it was barely visible above his right ear. He swallowed hard, looked at the camera as if in terror, then said, “My name is Ancil F. Hubbard. I live in Juneau, Alaska, but I was born in Ford County, Mississippi, on August first, 1922. My father was Cleon Hubbard, my mother Sarah Belle, my brother Seth. Seth was five years older than me. I was born on the family farm, near Palmyra. I left home when I was sixteen and never went back. Never. Never wanted to. Here’s my story.”

When the screen went blank fifty-eight minutes later, the three men sat for a while and stared at it. It was not something they ever wanted to see or hear again, but that would not be the case. Finally, slowly, Jake rose and pushed the eject button. “We’d better go see the judge.”

“Can you get it admitted?” Ozzie asked.

“No way in hell,” Harry Rex said. “I can think of ten different ways to keep it out, and not a single way to get it in.”

“All we can do is try,” Jake said. He raced across the street, his heart pounding, his mind spi

“Didn’t know he was a lawyer again,” Wade Lanier said.

“Hang on,” Jake said dismissively. “Let’s watch the tape, then we can fight.”

“How long is it?” asked the judge.

“About an hour.”

Lanier said, “This is a waste of time, Judge. You can’t admit this deposition if I wasn’t there and didn’t have the chance to examine the witness. This is absurd.”

Jake said, “We have time, Your Honor. What’s the rush?”

Judge Atlee puffed away. He looked at Jake, and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, “Play it.”

For Jake, the second time through the video was just as gut grinding as the first. Things he wasn’t sure he heard right the first time were confirmed. He glanced repeatedly at Wade Lanier, whose indignation wore off as the story overwhelmed him. By the end, he seemed deflated. All of the lawyers for the contestants had been transformed. Their cockiness had vanished.

When Jake removed the tape, Judge Atlee kept staring at the blank screen. He relit his pipe and exhaled a gust of smoke. “Mr. Lanier?”

“Well, Judge, it’s patently inadmissible. I wasn’t there. I didn’t have the chance to examine or cross-examine the witness. Not really fair, you know?”

Jake blurted, “So it’s in keeping with the spirit of this trial. A surprise witness here, an ambush there. I thought you understood these tricks, Wade.”

“I’ll ignore that. It’s not a proper deposition, Judge.”

Jake said, “But what could you ask him? He’s describing events that happened before you were born, and he’s the only surviving witness. It would be impossible for you to cross-examine him. You know nothing about what happened.”

Lanier said, “It’s not properly certified by the court reporter. That lawyer in Alaska is not licensed to practice in Mississippi. I could go on and on.”

“Fine. I’ll withdraw it as a deposition and offer it as an affidavit. A statement given by a witness sworn before a notary public. The court reporter was also a notary public.”

Lanier said, “It has nothing to do with Seth Hubbard’s testamentary capacity on October 1 of last year.”

Jake countered, “Oh, I think it explains everything, Wade. It proves without a doubt that Seth Hubbard knew exactly what he was doing. Come on, Judge, you’re letting everything else in for the jury to hear.”

“That’s enough,” Judge Atlee said sternly. He closed his eyes and seemed to meditate for a moment. He breathed deeply as his pipe went out. When he opened his eyes he said, “Gentlemen, I think the jury should meet Ancil Hubbard.”

Ten minutes later, court was called to order. The jury was brought in and the large screen was set up again. Judge Atlee apologized to the jurors for the delay, then explained what was happening. He looked at the contestants’ table and said, “Mr. Lanier, do you have any more witnesses.”

Lanier rose as if crippled by arthritis and said, “No. We rest.”