Page 69 of The 1 Lawyer

The judge fixed his eyes on the defense table. “In the matter of Alicia Holmes versus Eddie Hough, the court finds in favor of the defendant,” he said.

I wanted to cry out, Defendant’s verdict? No goddamn way. You’ve got to be kidding!

Eddie Hough laughed out loud, slapped his attorney on the back, and called out his thanks to the judge as if he were in a barroom rather than a court of law.

Judge Eckhardt ignored him. He rose from the bench, but before he retired into chambers, he turned his focus onto me. “Stafford Lee Penney! The next time you appear in my court, you better be wearing shoes and socks on your feet. You hear me?”

I heard. I wanted to tell him that my footwear choice wasn’t as foolish or misguided as his decision in this case, but my getting jailed for contempt of court wouldn’t help my client. Wouldn’t do me any good either. My throat was tight with anger, but I got the words out: “Yes, Your Honor.”

“I’m serious, Counselor. If you don’t, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

I watched him exit into chambers. As the door swung shut behind him, Alicia Holmes said, “So that’s it. We lost.”

Her sister walked up to the counsel table. I watched the women exchange a knowing look. Rue turned to me. “You did a good job for Alicia. You took her case on, fought for her.”

Wearing an expression of resignation, Alicia nodded in agreement. They were letting me off the hook, but it was too easy. I blamed myself.

“I should’ve anticipated Judge Eckhardt’s pro-defense stance and taken a change of judge. He’s got a grudge against me for a prior appearance at trial. Long story—it has nothing to do with you.”

Rue gave me a disbelieving look. “Get real, Stafford Lee. His decision had everything to do with us. That judge picked a side. Obviously, he wasn’t inclined to support the Black girl checking groceries at Dixie Belle.” She turned to her sister. “It’s not over, Alicia.” Rue looked back at me for confirmation.

“Absolutely. We’ll continue to push the Title Seven case against Dixie Belle. And we can appeal the court’s decision in the battery case.”

“Excellent,” Rue said. “How soon can we file that appeal?”

I felt a surge of righteous energy for the first time in months. “As soon as I knock it out on my computer. Which I intend to do right after I get back to my office. If Alicia approves.”

My client rewarded me with a genuine smile. “My sister was right about you. Let’s do it.”

CHAPTER 53

FRIDAY MORNING, the week after the Alicia Holmes battery lawsuit, I made another appearance in court. Following Judge Eckhardt’s order, I wore both shoes and socks. I dug a pair of lace-up oxfords out of the back of my closet and left the flip-flops at home.

On that day, Judge Jane Ross presided. Mason told me the new judge, recently sworn in, was capable but also as tough as elephant hide. It was another bench trial. She would decide the case; there was no jury.

In this landlord/tenant case, I represented an elderly tenant who’d been evicted. I called my client, Cora Franklin, to the witness stand. After she was sworn in, she huddled in the chair, clutching a plastic packet of tissues.

I smiled, trying to buoy her confidence. “Mrs. Franklin, how long had you rented the property on Norton Road in Biloxi, Mississippi?”

“Seventeen years. We rented it from the owner when my husband, Dexter, worked in the canning factory.” Her voice faltered when she added, “Dexter passed away four years ago, right before Easter.”

“During the years of your tenancy, did you make it a practice to pay your rent on time, ma’am?”

My client nodded emphatically. “Yes, sir. My husband always paid it right at the first of the month. After he died, that’s what I did too. Even when the new landlord took over last year and wasn’t keeping the property up like he should have.”

I cut a glance at the landlord, who was sitting with his attorney at the counsel table. He looked bored. “Mrs. Franklin, what did they fail to do with the upkeep of your house?”

“The plumbing in that old house has always been tricky, but my husband could keep it running. Dexter was handy, you know. When it broke down this year, I called the landlord, but I got no answer at the rental office, so I left messages.”

“What did you tell the landlord in your messages?”

“I said that a pipe had busted. It flooded the whole basement with over a foot of water. That’s when the faucets just quit on me, and after that, I didn’t have running water anymore. And then the toilets quit working, wouldn’t flush.”

To drive home the point, I said, “Mrs. Franklin, are you telling the court that you had no running water in your home and that the toilets did not operate?”

“That’s what I’m saying. I had to leave the house and go stay with my daughter. She drove me over to the landlord’s office seven times, but no one there would talk to me.”

“What did you do about the rent? Did you pay it after the pipe burst even though you had no running water and the toilets no longer worked?”

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