deputy followed, awkwardly carrying my purse.
My government phone vibrated inside it with an urgent alert.
The message came from my district’s Chief Judge.Find Legal Help
Voss believed he had shamed another defenseless stranger. He never imagined whom he had arrested; his trouble at the station had barely begun.
My reason for eating in Pell County that Tuesday matters: federal judges do not visit small Georgia towns seeking confrontation.
I am no investigator. Judges rule on cases brought before them; pursuing cases ourselves would be improper.
Yet my family roots lie in Pell County.
My maternal aunt Lorraine Bishop, seventy-six, lives on eleven acres off Old Mill Road, three miles from Halvorsen Springs. After thirty-four years teaching third grade at Pell County Elementary, she still sends me local newspaper clippings, as she has since I attended law school. Each bears a sticky note in her looping handwriting: “Thought you’d want to see
