The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(89)

Tom quickly made his way through the crowd, shaking hands with the people he knew and telling the reporters that he’d have no comment on anything until after the trial.

When he finally made it to his car, he saw a familiar figure leaning against the hood.

“So you decided to take the Cock’s advice?” Judge Hancock said, smiling and extending his hand, which Tom shook.

“Just helping out an old friend and a former student.”

“Right,” the Judge said, chuckling. “None of this is for you.”

Tom finally smiled. “Maybe, a little.”

Judge Hancock slapped Tom on the back. “Well, I’m glad to see it.” The Judge took a couple steps away, then turned back. “And I’m not the only one, buck. You see this?” The Judge had been holding a folded newspaper under his left armpit, and he handed it to Tom.

“State Legend, ‘The Professor’, Trying Trucking Case in Henshaw County.” Above the title was a photograph of Tom and Coach Bryant, which had been taken a couple years before the Man’s death during a reception at the law school to honor Tom’s first national championship. “Five months after his forced retirement and subsequent disappearance, Professor Thomas Jackson McMurtrie, defensive end on Coach Paul ‘Bear’ Bryant’s 1961 National Champions, founder of the trial program at the University of Alabama Law School, coach of three national championship trial teams, and author of McMurtrie’s Evidence, has emerged in Henshaw County, trying a trucking case with former student, Rick Drake.” Tom skimmed the rest of the article, which described the nature of the case, Tom’s dramatic appearance Tuesday during the cross examination of Wilma Newton and Tom’s strange partnership with Rick Drake, “a student partly responsible for the Professor’s forced retirement”.

Tom raised his eyes from the paper and met the Cock’s eyes.

“This has got some folks pretty stirred up,” the Judge said. “You saw the crowd today?”

Tom nodded. “They weren’t all friends.”

“Most were.” Hancock paused and looked down at the ground. “I’ve been a judge in Jefferson County for forty-five years, Tom. I’ve never traveled to another county just to watch a trial. Never until today.” He smiled again. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“I’ll be here tomorrow too.”

“Well, I doubt anyone else will,” Tom said.

“You’re wrong, buck. Like I said, what you’re doing here, coming back after all you been through, has got folks stirred up. That article was positive. Reverent even. You’re the Professor, goddamnit, and I think the news and the general public have started to realize it.” The Judge walked away, but then turned back and squinted into the setting sun. “And so have your friends.” He paused. “You know, sometimes a man can be so consistently good that people take him for granted. I remember another man kinda like that. Coached football and wore a houndstooth hat.” The Cock nodded. “People will come tomorrow, Tom. Rest assured ... people will come.”



“What was that all about?” Rick asked, reaching Tom just as Judge Hancock began walking away. Rick had stayed behind to iron out the jury instructions with Tyler’s associate.

“Just an old friend wishing us luck,” Tom said, trying to refocus, a little overwhelmed by the Cock’s words of support. “You get the jury instructions worked out?” Jury instructions comprised the law that Judge Cutler would read to the jury after closing arguments, just before the jury was given the case to decide. Alabama had published a pattern set of jury instructions for negligence cases, and Tom had been involved, along with a panel of four other lawyers and judges, in drafting them.

“Yeah, nothing unusual. Just sticking with the patterns. You should recognize them pretty well.” Rick smiled, but he looked exhausted and stressed.

“You OK?” Tom asked.

“We still haven’t found Faith Bulyard. I’ve left her at least a dozen messages on her cell phone.” Rick sighed. “Powell and Dawn spoke with several of her neighbors, and one of them thinks she may have taken her kids on a trip. Wherever she is, she may not have cell phone service. I...”

“If we don’t get the bill of lading in, it’s not the end of the world. It...” But Tom stopped. He didn’t want to sugarcoat things. “It would sure help, though. It would make Jack Willistone look like a liar and kill all of his credibility. It would also make Dawn’s version of what Wilma Newton said at the Sands ring true.”

“I know,” Rick said. “I know...” He hung his head, and Tom patted his shoulder.

“Just stay after it. She probably just has the phone turned off or is spending the afternoon at a place where her signal is weak.”

Rick nodded. “I hope that’s it.”

For a moment, neither man spoke. They were both dog tired, but there was a lot of work to be done tonight.

“You think tomorrow will be it?” Rick asked.

Tom shrugged. “Hard to say for sure, but probably. If Faith shows up, we’ll be calling two rebuttal witnesses. Then post trial motions and closings. Still, I think there’s a good chance we’ll finish.”

Rick raised his eyebrows in confusion. “Two rebuttal witnesses?”