Kendrick stood. He had to push his chair back to make room; the top of his head barely cleared the table. He didn't try to match Hanson's polish—he couldn't—but his voice was steady.
"Mr. Hanson is right about one thing: this case is about a line." He paused. "He's wrong about the question. The question isn't where the line is now. The question is whether the line we're shown today is the same line that was drawn 22 years ago." He looked for just a second at Blackwood. "And if it isn't, who moved it?"
The courtroom went very quiet. Hanson looked down at the table. Bobby Jackson, beside his son, sat up a little straighter.
Blackwood let Hanson cross-examine Bobby first. Hanson kept it gentle. He asked about the deed, about the original purchase, about what Bobby had understood when he and Marsha had signed the papers in 2002. Then he asked a little quieter, "Mr. Jackson, you didn't finish high school, is that correct?"
Bobby's face tightened. He didn't answer right away. When he did, he stood up slowly, fully, and looked Hanson in the eye.
"No, sir. I did not. I joined the Army at 17 because my mama needed the check. I came home. I learned how to fix engines because that's what feeds my family." He paused. "I never read a law book in my life, but I raised the boy who did."
He took a breath, glanced at Kendrick, and looked back at Hanson.
"So, you tell me, Mr. Hanson: which one of us understands this case better? Because I've been watching lawyers a long time. You don't stop talking for nothing, and my boy made you stop talking back there for a second."
The courtroom was silent. Hanson opened his mouth, then closed it. "No further questions, Your Honor."
Bobby sat down. Kendrick reached over and squeezed his father's hand under the table. It was the first time in 18 months he'd seen his dad stand up that tall.
Blackwood called for a recess.
In the hallway, Kendrick stood alone by the window. The glass was old, slightly warped; the view of the parking lot wavered like heat coming off a road. He heard footsteps. It was Hanson. The lawyer stopped a few feet away, looking tired in a way he hadn't looked in the courtroom.
"You're good. You know that? I went to Yale. I've never seen a 15-year-old build an argument that clean."
Kendrick didn't turn. "Then why are you on the wrong side, Mr. Hanson?"
Hanson didn't answer at first. He looked at the floor. "Somebody's going to win this case, son. I'm just trying to make sure it's a clean win."