In the federal courthouse in Jackson, Breck Jefferson entered the
office o f his boss, Judge F. Flynn Slattery, who was talking angrily
on the phone. Breck held a legal pad filled with notes.
“Yes?” Slattery asked crossly, banging down the phone.
“We need to talk about Cayhall,” Breck said seriously. “You
know we’ve got his claim of mental incompetence.”
“Let’s deny it and get rid of it. I’m too busy to worry with it.
Let Cayhall take it to the Fifth Circuit. I don’t want it lying
around here.”
Breck looked troubled, and his words came slower. “But there’s
something you need to take a look at.”
“Surely not, Breck. What is it?”
“H e may have a genuine claim.”