John Grisham

Unfortunately for Mrs. Hardaway, and quite blessedly for us, the moment is contagious. Mr. Ranson Pelk who sits directly behind her gets tickled at something. So does Mrs. Ella Faye Salter who sits next to Mrs. Hardaway. Within seconds of the initial eruption, there is widespread laughing throughout the jury box. Some jurors glance at Mrs. Hardaway as if she’s still the source of the mischief. Others look directly at Reisky and shake their heads in amused bewilderment.

Reisky assumes the worst, as if he’s the reason they’re laughing. His head falls and he studies the floor. Drum-mond chooses simply to ignore it, though it must be awfully painful. Not a face can be seen from his group of bright young eagles. They’ve all got their noses stuck in files and books. Aldy and Underhall examine their socks.

Kipler wants to laugh himself. He tolerates the comedy for a bit, and as it begins to subside he raps his gavel, as if to officially record the fact that the jury actually laughed at the testimony of Payton Reisky.

It happens quickly. The ridiculbus answer, the burst of laughter, the cover-up, the chuckling and giggling and head-shaking skepticism, all last but a few seconds. I detect, though, a certain forced relief on the part of some of the jurors. They want to laugh, to express disbelief, and in doing so they can, if only for a second, tell Reisky and

Great Benefit exactly what they think about what they’re hearing.

Brief though it is, it’s an absolutely golden moment. I smile at them. They smile at me. They believe everything from my witnesses, nothing from Drummond’s.

"Nothing else, Your Honor," I say with disgust, as if I’m tired of this lying scoundrel.

Drummond is obviously surprised. He thought I’d spend the rest of the day hammering Reisky with the manuals and the statistics. He shuffles paper, whispers to T. Price, then stands and says, "Our next witness is Richard Pellrod."

Pellrod was the senior claims examiner over Jackie Lemancyzk. He was a terrible witness during deposition, a real chip on his shoulder, but his appearance now is no surprise. They must do something to cast mud on Jackie. Pellrod was her immediate boss.

He’s forty-six, of medium build with a beer gut, little hair, bad features, liver spots and nerdish eyeglasses. There’s nothing physically attractive about the poor guy, and he obviously doesn’t care. If he says Jackie Lemancyzk was nothing but a whore who tried to snare his body as well, I’ll bet the jury starts laughing again.

Pellrod has the irascible personality you’d expect from a person who’s worked in claims for twenty years. Just slightly friendlier than the average bill collector, he simply cannot convey any warmth or trust to the jury. He’s a low-level corporate rat who’s probably been working in the same cubicle for as long as he can remember.

And he’s the best they have! They can’t bring back Lufkin or Aldy or Keeley because they’ve already lost all credibility with the jury. Drummond has a half-dozen home office people left on his witness list, but I doubt if he calls all of them. What can they say? The manuals

don’t exist? Their company doesn’t lie and hide documents?

Drummond and Pellrod Q&A through a well-rehearsed script for half an hour, more breathless inner workings of the claims department, more heroic efforts by Great Benefit to treat its insureds fairly, more yawns from the jury.

Judge Kipler decides to insert himself into the boredom. He interrupts this little tag-team, says, "Counselor, could we move along?"

Drummond appears shocked and wounded. "But, Your Honor, I have the right to conduct a thorough examination of this witness."

"Sure you do. But most of what he’s said so far is already before the jury. It’s repetitive."

Drummond just can’t believe this. He’s incredulous, and he pretends, quite unsuccessfully, to act as if the judge is picking on him.

"I don’t recall your telling plaintiff’s counsel to hurry up."

He shouldn’t have said this. He’s trying to prolong this flare-up, and he’s picking a fight with the wrong judge. "That’s because Mr. Baylor kept the jury awake, Mr. Drummond. Now move along."

Mrs. Hardaway’s outburst and the snickering it created has obviously loosened up the jurors. They’re more animated now, ready to laugh again at the expense of the defense.

Drummond glares at Kipler as if hell discuss this later and straighten things out. Back to Pellrod, who sits like a toad, eyes half-open, head tilted to one side. Mistakes were made, Pellrod admits with a weak effort at remorse, but nothing major. And, believe it or not, most of the mistakes can be attributed to Jackie Lemancyzk, a troubled young woman.

Back to the Black claim for a while as Pellrod discusses

some of the less-damning documents. He never gets around to the denial letters, but instead spends a lot of time with paperwork that is irrelevant and unimportant.

"Mr. Drummond," Kipler interrupts sternly, "I’ve asked you to move along. These documents are in evidence for the jury to examine. This testimony has already been covered with other witnesses. Now, move it."

Drumrnond’s feelings are hurt by this. He’s being harangued and picked on by an unfair judge. He takes time to collect himself. His acting is not up to par.

They decide to fashion a new strategy with the claims manual. Pellrod says it’s just a book, nothing more or less. Personally, he hasn’t looked at the damned thing in years. They keep changing it so much that most of the veteran claims handlers just ignore it. Drummond shows him Section U, and, son of a gun, he’s never seen it before. Means nothing to him. Means nothing to the many handlers under his supervision. Personally, he doesn’t know a single claims handler who bothers with the manual.

So how are claims really handled? Pellrod tells us. Under Drumrnond’s prompting, he takes a hypothetical claim, walks it through the normal channels. Step by step, form by form, memo by memo. Pellrod’s voice remains in the same octave, and he bores the hell out of the jury. Lester Days, juror number eight, on the back row, nods off to sleep. There are yawns and heavy eyelids as they try vainly to stay awake.

It does not go unnoticed.

If Pellrod is crushed by his failure to dazzle die jury, he doesn’t show it. His voice doesn’t change, his manner remains the same. He finishes with some alarming revelations about Jackie Lemancyzk. She was known to have a drinking problem, and often came to work smelling of liquor. She missed more work than the other claims han-

dlers. She grew increasingly irresponsible, and her termination was inevitable. What about her sexual escapades?

Pellrod and Great Benefit have to be careful here because this topic will be discussed again on another day in another courtroom. Whatever is said here will be recorded and preserved for future use. So, instead of making her a whore who readily slept with anybody, Drum-mond wisely takes the higher ground.

"I really don’t know anything about that," Pellrod says, and scores a minor point with the jury.

They kill some more clock, and make it almost until noon before Pellrod is handed to me. Kipler wants to break for lunch, but I assure him I won’t take long. He reluctantly agrees.

I start by handing Pellrod a copy of a denial letter he signed and sent to Dot Black. It was the fourth denial, and was based on the grounds that Donny Ray’s leukemia was a preexisting condition. I make him read it to the jury, and admit it’s his. I allow him to try and explain why he sent it, but, of course, there’s no way txrexplain. The letter was a private matter between Pellrod and Dot Black, never intended to be seen by anybody else, certainly not in this courtroom.

He talks about a form that was mistakenly filled in by Jackie, and about a misunderstanding with Mr. Krokit, and, well, hell, the whole thing was just a mistake. And he’s very sorry about it.