The article was written by Gregg Bartolomo.
Jay shoves all of the mail to the side of the desk, in the spot he considers his pre-inbox, a messy stack of unopened mail and lists of things he needs to add to other lists that are floating somewhere on his desk. He has to get back to work before lunch. He’d like to have a good grasp of his opening statement by the end of this week, thirteen days before Pleasantville (Arlee Delyvan et al.) v. ProFerma Labs is set to finally go before a jury, after years of fits and starts and stalling on the part of the chemical company. Four years ago, when he stood before his clients in the Samuel P. Hathorne Community Center to make a pitch to regain their trust, he’d prepared them for this kind of prolonged fight. But not before seeking out the one man he knew he had to win over first. It was about a week after Christmas that year. Jelly Lopez, the new leader of Pleasantville by default, had let Jay into his four-bedroom ranch-style house. His wife had poured him sweet tea spiked with lemon and ginger, and Jelly’s four-year-old daughter played with Legos on top of the coffee table while the two men talked. “I didn’t fight as hard as I could, I didn’t,” Jay said. “But I’m here now, and if you’ll put your trust in me, I’d like to represent your family in a court of law.” Jelly, Jules to his wife, looked at her, and together they asked for a minute to speak alone in the kitchen. Jay passed the time building a car for Maya, their daughter, flicking its wheels with his thumb and watching it ride across the polished coffee table. And when Jelly came out of his blue-and-yellow kitchen, Jay stood and said again, I’m here now.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With each book I feel ever more grateful for the creative support I have in my life. Richard Abate, who is part agent, part counselor, part dreamer like me, championed this book from its very beginning and helped push the story to where it needed to go. How lucky I am to call you a friend. Claire Wachtel was patient and exacting in equal measure, and this book is better for it. Thank you for your faith in me, and your enthusiasm for this book. Rebecca Gray recognized the ambition of this project, and offered keen insights along the way. You are kind, funny, and wise–and know where to find good Mexican food in London! Hannah Wood, thank you for your hard work and support. And Dawn Davis, thank you for seeing the potential in this book from just a few lines of description, and for being one of my biggest cheerleaders, near and far.
I could not have written this book without reading Sasha Issenberg’s Victory Lab. Big thanks to Jesse Dickerman for suggesting I read it, and for sitting down with me to talk about campaigning and Texas politics. Additional thanks to Rusty Hardin for answering some very important questions about Texas criminal law. Erik Eriksson answered my questions about the Ship Channel and the Port of Houston, and I dearly appreciate his generosity. And though it seems odd to thank my dad, Gene Locke, for `one of the most painful experiences of my life, I couldn’t have written this book without bearing witness to a cantankerous and complicated mayoral race, one that shed light on some very dark corners of our democracy. Thanks also, Daddy, for answering a million trivia questions about Houston’s political history and where to get the best barbecue.
To the real Eddie Mae Loston, who passed away as I wrote this book, you were a beautiful part of my childhood and will be remembered forever.
To the folks in Pleasantville who opened their homes to me and shared their personal stories–Talmadge and Geneva Sharp, Clinton Johns, Evelyn Mouton, James and Carolyn Campbell–I cannot thank you enough.
To my family, thanks, as always, for your big, beautiful love.
To Cheryl Arutt, thank you for Thursdays.
Tembi, thanks for the light, love, and laughter, and for reading this book while your own writing life has been so full. Karl, my dear husband, you are a writer’s dream mate–patient, quick with a joke, willing to do dishes, and full of legal knowledge. I couldn’t do any of this without you. My darling Clara, your love is my true muse. You and Zoela, my dear niece, keep me light. Finally, to my brother-in-law Saro, I started this book in your hospital room. And when I finished, you were the first person I told, a whisper in the wind. Thank you, Sa.