Sure enough, the circuit clerk has climbed up to confer with the judge about something. “Shad Johnson reminds you of Sidney Poitier?” I ask with astonishment. “That’s like saying Rush Limbaugh ought to be played by Gregory Peck.”

“I know, I know. Poitier would have to play against type, but that always works for great actors. When Sidney was young, he had that same striving intensity Shad has, the Mississippi black boy who made it all the way to Harvard.”

“I’d cast Poitier as Judge Elder. He’d have to wear elevator shoes, though. Who would you cast as Judge Elder?”

“Isaiah Washington.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“The black surgeon on Grey’s Anatomy.” Rusty gives me a sidelong look. “I thought Annie was a fanatic for that show.”

“She is, but I don’t watch it that closely. It’s just the time with her I like.”

“Oh. Well, Quentin’s definitely Morgan Freeman. He’s got the white kinky hair, the Visa-commercial voice, and that held-in temper, like he might go off if you push him too far. Like Crazy Joe Clark, remember?”

“At least Morgan Freeman’s from Mississippi.”

Though Rusty has too much tact to mention Lincoln Turner, I turn and look to my left, past my mother, to where my half brother sits behind the prosecution table. Lincoln looks like exactly what he is: a man involved in a blood feud, waiting for the law to punish the cruel father whom he believes killed his mother. The hard-set jaw and sheen of sweat on Lincoln’s face give me the feeling that if the impaneled jury doesn’t deliver the verdict he desires, he’ll gladly carry out the appropriate sentence himself. Perversely, I find myself trying to mentally cast an actor who could embody the malevolent emotions radiated by Lincoln Turner.

“Clarence Williams the Third,” Rusty whispers in my ear.

“What?”

“To play Lincoln. Clarence Williams played Prince’s father in Purple Rain. He was Linc in the old Mod Squad, too, but he was a pretty boy then. As he got older, he developed that barely restrained rage that’s steaming off your brother over there.”

“Half brother. Damn it, Rusty, my father’s on trial for murder, and you’re ready to turn it into a TV miniseries.”

“Let me agent the deal, and I will.” Like most plaintiff’s lawyers I know, Rusty Duncan has no shame. “Did I tell you I met Morgan once, up at his blues club in Clarksdale? I wonder if he remembers me.” Rusty elbows me again. “This is big, buddy. Why do you think Court TV and CNN are outside on the steps?”

“Because Joe Elder has more sense than to allow them in here.”

“Don’t get too comfortable with that setup. Joe’s liable to cave on that any minute. That’s probably what George is talking to him about now.”