to testify at trial, the video would be used as evidence.
The instructions were necessary, and then they were not. Jake, Portia, and Lucien had rehearsed with Lettie for hours in the conference room at the office. She was well prepared, though in a deposition it was impossible to predict what might be discussed. At trial, all testimony must be relevant. Not so in a deposition, which often turned into a prolonged fishing expedition.
Be polite. Be concise. Don’t volunteer. If you don’t know, then you don’t know. Remember the camera catches everything. And I’ll be right beside you for protection, Jake had said over and over. Portia had gone to the attic and found dozens of old depositions that she had spent hours poring over. She understood the technicalities, the strategies, and the pitfalls. She and her mother had talked for hours on the back porch of the old Sappington house.
Lettie was as prepared as possible. After she was sworn by the court reporter, Wade Lanier introduced himself with a sappy smile and began the questioning. “Let’s start with your family,” he said. Names, current residences, birth dates, birthplaces, education, employment, children, grandchildren, parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles. Lettie and Portia had rehearsed thoroughly and the answers came easily. Lanier paused at one point when he realized Portia was her daughter. Jake explained, “She’s an intern in my office. Paid.” This caused some concern around the table. Stillman Rush finally asked, “Does this pose a conflict, Jake?”
Jake had thought it over long ago. “Not at all. I represent the estate. Portia is not a beneficiary under the will. I see no conflict. Do you?”
“Is she going to be a witness?” Lester Chilcott asked.
“No. She was away in the Army for the past six years.”
Zack Zeitler asked, “Will she have access to certain information her mother perhaps should not see?”
“Such as?”
“I can’t give you an example right now. I’m just speculating. I’m not saying there’s a conflict here, Jake, I’m just sort of caught off guard.”
“Have you informed Judge Atlee?” Wade Lanier asked.
“I did last week, and he approved.”
End of conversation. Wade Lanier took off again with questions about Lettie’s parents, and grandparents. His questions were soft and easy, quite conversational, as if he were truly interested in where her maternal grandparents once lived and what they did for a living. After an hour, Jake fought the temptation to daydream. It was important for him to take notes in the event another lawyer, hours from now, inadvertently stepped into the same territory.
Back to Lettie. She finished high school in 1959 in Hamilton, Alabama, at the old colored school. She ran away to Memphis and met Simeon. They married right away and Marvis was born the following year.
Wade Lanier spent some time on Marvis: his criminal record, convictions, incarceration. Lettie got choked up and wiped her cheeks, but did not break down. Next came Phedra and her problems: two children born out of wedlock, Lettie’s first two grandkids; an employment history that was sketchy at best. Phedra was currently living at home; in fact she’d never really left. Her two children had different fathers who were out of the picture.
Portia flinched with questions about her older brother and her sister. These were not secrets, but they were not openly discussed either. The family whispered about such matters, yet here they were being kicked about by a bunch of white men, strangers all.
At 10:30, they broke for fifteen minutes and everyone scattered. The lawyers ran to find phones. Portia and Lettie headed for the ladies’ room. A clerk brought in a fresh pot of coffee and a tray of store-bought cookies. The tables already resembled a landfill.
When they resumed, Stillman Rush took the handoff and dwelled on Simeon, whose family was more complicated. Lettie admitted she did not know as many details about his ancestors. His work history was filled with gaps, but she did recall stints as a truck driver, dozer operator, pulpwood cutter, painter, and brick mason’s helper. He’d been arrested a couple of times, the most recent being last October. Misdemeanors, no felonies. Yes, they had separated several times, but never for more than two months.
Enough of Simeon, for now anyway; Stillman wanted to follow up with Lettie’s résumé. She worked for Seth Hubbard off and on, part-time and full-time, for most of the past three years. Before that, she worked for three years as a housekeeper in the Clanton home of an old couple Jake had never heard of. Both died within three months of one another, and Lettie was out of work. Before that, she worked as a cook in the middle school cafeteria in Karaway. Stillman wanted dates, wages, raises, bosses, every minute detail, and Lettie did the best she could.
Seriously? Portia asked herself. How could the name of my mother’s boss ten years ago possibly be important to this will contest? It would be a fishing expedition, Jake had said. Welcome to the mind-numbing dullness of deposition warfare.
Jake had also explained that depositions drag on for days because the lawyers are being paid by the hour, or at least the ones who are asking the banal and monotonous questions. With virtually no restrictions on what can be explored, and with their meters running, lawyers, especially those working for insurance companies and big corporations, have no interest in being concise. As long as they can keep the conversation close to a person, issue, or thing remotely connected to the lawsuit, then they can peck away for hours.
However, Jake had also explained that the Hubbard case was different because the only lawyer working by the hour was him. The others were there on a prayer and a percentage. If the handwritten will were to be invalidated, the money would revert to the family under the prior will, and all those lawyers would take a cut. Since the other lawyers had no guarantee they would be paid, he suspected their questions might not be so tedious.
Portia wasn’t so sure about that. Tedium was closing in from all directions.
Stillman liked to bounce around, probably in an effort to keep the witness off balance. He woke up the crowd with “Now, did you borrow money from your former attorney, Booker Sistrunk?”
“I did.” Lettie knew the question was coming and answered it without hesitation. There was no law or rule against such a loan, not on the receiving end anyway.
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
“Did he write you a check or was it in cash?”
“Cash, and we, Simeon and I, signed a promissory note.”
“Was this the only loan from Sistrunk?”
“No, there was a prior loan for $5,000.”
“Why did you borrow money from Mr. Sistrunk?”
“Because we needed the money. I lost my job, and with Simeon you never know.”
“Did you take the money and move into a larger house?”
“We did.”
“And how many people now live in that house?”
Lettie thought for a moment, and said, “Usually around eleven, but the number varies. Some come and go.”
Jake glared at Stillman as if to say, “Don’t even think about wanting all eleven names. Can we just move along?”
Stillman was tempted, but moved along. “How much are you paying in rent?”
“Seven hundred a month.”
“And you’re unemployed as of today?”
“Correct.”
“Where is your husband working right now?”
“He’s not.”
“Since Mr. Sistrunk is no longer your lawyer, how do you plan to repay him?”
“We’ll worry about that later.”
Roxy had sandwiches and chips ready for lunch, and they ate in the conference room where Lucien joined them. “How’d it go?” he asked.
“The usual first round of worthless questions,” Jake said. “Lettie was great but she’s already tired.”
