The Last Juror

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Overview

In 1970, one of Mississippi’s more colorful weekly newspapers, The Ford County Times, went bankrupt. To the surprise and dismay of many, ownership was assumed by a 23-year-old college dropout, named Willie Traynor. The future of the paper looked grim until a young mother was brutally raped and murdered by a member of the notorious Padgitt family. Willie Traynor reported all the gruesome details, and his newspaper began to prosper.

The murderer, Danny Padgitt, was tried before a packed courthouse in Clanton, Mississippi. The trial came to a startling and dramatic end when the defendant threatened revenge against the jurors if they convicted him. Nevertheless, they found him guilty, and he was sentenced to life in prison.

But in Mississippi in 1970, “life” didn’t necessarily mean “life,” and nine years later Danny Padgitt managed to get himself paroled. He returned to Ford County, and the retribution began.

This slipcased, clothbound limited edition has been signed by the author. Other features include a ribbon marker, stained page edges, and embossed endpapers. Each copy is also hand numbered.

Editorial Reviews

The New York Times

Miss Callie might be pure caricature if Mr. Grisham did not write about her with such incontrovertible warmth. Here, as in A Time to Kill, he is able to populate Clanton with flesh-and-blood characters and make readers care about them, which only heightens concern after a renegade Padgitt begins "pickin' off the jurors." … The Last Juror does not need to coast on its author's megapopularity. It's a reminder of how the Grisham juggernaut began. — Janet Maslin

More Reviews (1) Fewer Reviews

From The Critics

The novel will satisfy those with an appetite for legal thrillers and those who believe Grisham possesses more talent than those breathless page-turners sometimes reveal. It ranks among his best-written and most atmospheric novels. — Deirdre Donahue

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780440241577
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 12/14/2004
Format: Mass Market Paperback
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 496
Sales rank: 56,896
Product dimensions: 4.15 (w) x 6.90 (h) x 1.10 (d)

Meet the Author

John Grisham

The master of the legal thriller, John Grisham was a criminal and civil lawyer in Mississippi when his first book, A Time to Kill, was published. But it was his next book, The Firm, that became a blockbuster and established him as king of the genre.

Biography

As a young boy in Arkansas, John Grisham dreamed of being a baseball player. Fortunately for his millions of fans, that career didn't pan out. His family moved to Mississippi in 1967, where Grisham eventually received a law degree from Ole Miss and established a practice in Southaven for criminal and civil law. In 1983, Grisham was elected to the Mississippi House of Representatives, where he served until 1990.

While working as an attorney, Grisham witnessed emotional testimony from the case of a young girl's rape. Naturally inquisitive, Grisham's mind started to wander: what if the terrible crime yielded an equally terrible revenge? These questions of right and wrong were the subject of his first novel, A Time to Kill (1988), written in the stolen moments before and between court appearances. The book wasn't widely distributed, but his next title would be the one to bring him to the national spotlight. The day after he finished A Time to Kill, Grisham began work on The Firm (1991), the story of a whiz kid attorney who joins a crooked law firm. The book was an instant hit, spent 47 weeks on The New York Times bestseller list, and was made into a movie starring Tom Cruise.

With the success of The Firm, Grisham resigned from the Mississippi House of Representatives to focus exclusively on his writing. What followed was a string of bestselling legal thrillers that demonstrated the author's uncanny ability to capture the unique drama of the courtroom. Several of his novels were turned into blockbuster movies.

In 1996, Grisham returned to his law practice for one last case, honoring a promise he had made before his retirement. He represented the family of a railroad worker who was killed on the job, the case went to trial, and Grisham won the largest verdict of his career when the family was awarded more than $650,000.

Although he is best known for his legal thrillers, Grisham has ventured outside the genre with several well-received novels (A Painted House, Bleachers, et al) and an earnest and compelling nonfiction account of small-town justice gone terribly wrong (The Innocent Man). The popularity of these stand-alones proves that Grisham is no mere one-trick pony but a gifted writer with real "legs."

Good To Know

A prolific writer, it takes Grisham an average of six months to complete a novel.

Grisham has the right to approve or reject whoever is cast in movies based on his books. He has even written two screenplays himself: Mickey and The Gingerbread Man.

Baseball is one of Grisham's great loves. He serves as the local Little League commissioner and has six baseball diamonds on his property, where he hosts games.

1. Hometown:
  
  Oxford, Mississippi, and Albemarle County, Virginia
1. Date of Birth:
  
  February 8, 1955
2. Place of Birth:
  
  Jonesboro, Arkansas
1. Education:
  
  B.S., Mississippi State, 1977; J.D., University of Mississippi, 1981
2. Website:
  
  http://www.jgrisham.com

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 2

Rhoda Kassellaw lived in the Beech Hill community, twelve miles north of Clanton, in a modest gray brick house on a narrow, paved country road. The flower beds along the front of the house were weedless and received daily care, and between them and the road the long wide lawn was thick and well cut. The driveway was crushed white rock. Scattered down both sides of it was a collection of scooters and balls and bikes. Her two small children were always outdoors, playing hard, sometimes stopping to watch a passing car.

It was a pleasant little country house, a stone's throw from Mr. And Mrs. Deece next door. The young man who bought it was killed in a trucking accident somewhere in Texas, and, at the age of twenty-eight, Rhoda became a widow. The insurance on his life paid off the house and the car. The balance was invested to provide a modest monthly income that allowed her to remain home and dote on the children. She spent hours outside, tending her vegetable garden, potting flowers, pulling weeds, mulching the beds along the front of the house.

She kept to herself. The old ladies in Beech Hill considered her a model widow, staying home, looking sad, limiting her social appearances to an occasional visit to church. She should attend more regularly, they whispered.

Shortly after the death of her husband, Rhoda planned to return to her family in Missouri. She was not from Ford County, nor was her husband. A job took them there. But the house was paid for, the kids were happy, the neighbors were nice, and her family was much too concerned about how much life insurance she'd collected. So she stayed, always thinking of leaving but never doing so.

Rhoda Kassellaw was a beautiful woman when she wanted to be, which was not very often. Her shapely, thin figure was usually camouflaged under a loose cotton drip-dry dress, or a bulky chambray workshirt, which she preferred when gardening. She wore little makeup and kept her long flaxen-colored hair pulled back and stuck together on top of her head. Most of what she ate came from her organic garden, and her skin had a soft healthy glow to it. Such an attractive young widow would normally have been a hot property in the county, but she kept to herself.

After three years of mourning, however, Rhoda became restless. She was not getting younger; the years were slipping by. She was too young and too pretty to sit at home every Saturday and read bedtime stories. There had to be some action out there, though there was certainly none in Beech Hill.

She hired a young black girl from down the road to baby-sit, and Rhoda drove north for an hour to the Tennessee line, where she'd heard there were some respectable lounges and dance clubs. Maybe no one would know her there. She enjoyed the dancing and the flirting, but she never drank and always came home early. It became a routine, two or three times a month.

Then the jeans got tighter, the dancing faster, the hours longer and longer. She was getting noticed and talked about in the bars and clubs along the state line.

He followed her home twice before he killed her. It was March, and a warm front had brought a premature hope of spring. It was a dark night, with no moon. Bear, the family mutt, sniffed him first as he crept behind a tree in the backyard. Bear was primed to growl and bark when he was forever silenced.

Rhoda's son Michael was five and her daughter Teresa was three. They wore matching Disney cartoon pajamas, neatly pressed, and watched their mother's glowing eyes as she read them the story of Jonah and the whale. She tucked them in and kissed them good night, and when Rhoda turned off the light to their bedroom, he was already in the house.

An hour later she turned off the television, locked the doors, and waited for Bear, who did not appear. That was no surprise because he often chased rabbits and squirrels into the woods and came home late. Bear would sleep on the back porch and wake her howling at dawn. In her bedroom, she slipped out of her light cotton dress and opened the closet door. He was waiting in there, in the dark.

He snatched her from behind, covered her mouth with a thick and sweaty hand, and said, "I have a knife. I'll cut you and your kids." With the other hand he held up a shiny blade and waved it before her eyes.

"Understand?" he hissed into her ear.

She trembled and managed to shake her head. She couldn't see what he looked like. He threw her to the floor of the cluttered closet, face down, and yanked her hands behind her. He took a brown wool scarf an old aunt had given her and wrapped it roughly around her face. "Not one sound," he kept growling at her. "Or I'll cut your kids." When the blindfold was finished he grabbed her hair, snatched her to her feet, and dragged her to her bed. He poked the tip of the blade into her chin and said, "Don't fight me. The knife's right here." He cut off her panties and the rape began.

He wanted to see her eyes, those beautiful eyes he'd seen in the clubs. And the long hair. He'd bought her drinks and danced with her twice, and when he'd finally made a move she had stiff-armed him. Try these moves, baby, he mumbled just loud enough for her to hear.

He and the Jack Daniel's had been building courage for three hours, and now the whiskey numbed him. He moved slowly above her, not rushing things, enjoying every second of it. He mumbled in the self-satisfying grunts of a real man taking and getting what he wanted.

The smell of the whiskey and his sweat nauseated her, but she was too frightened to throw up. It might anger him, cause him to use the knife. As she started to accept the horror of the moment, she began to think. Keep it quiet. Don't wake up the kids. And what will he do with the knife when he's finished?

His movements were faster, he was mumbling louder. "Quiet, baby," he hissed again and again. "I'll use the knife." The wrought-iron bed was squeaking; didn't get used enough, he told himself. Too much noise, but he didn't care.

The rattling of the bed woke Michael, who then got Teresa up. They eased from their room and crept down the dark hall to see what was happening. Michael opened the door to his mother's bedroom, saw the strange man on top of her, and said, "Mommy!" For a second the man stopped and jerked his head toward the children.

The sound of the boy's voice horrified Rhoda, who bolted upward and thrust both hands at her assailant, grabbing whatever she could. One small fist caught him in the left eye, a solid shot that stunned him. Then she yanked off her blindfold while kicking with both legs. He slapped her and tried to pin her down again. "Danny Padgitt!" she shouted, still clawing. He hit her once more.

"Mommy!" Michael cried.

"Run, kids!" Rhoda tried to scream, but she was struck dumb by her assailant's blows.

"Shut up!" Padgitt yelled.

"Run!" Rhoda shouted again, and the children backed away, then darted down the hallway, into the kitchen, and outside to safety.

In the split second after she shouted his name, Padgitt realized he had no choice but to silence her. He took the knife and hacked twice, then scrambled from the bed and grabbed his clothing.

Mr. and Mrs. Aaron Deece were watching late television from Memphis when they heard Michael's voice calling and getting closer. Mr. Deece met the boy at the front door. His pajamas were soaked with sweat and dew and his teeth were chattering so violently he had trouble speaking.

"He hurt my mommy!" he kept saying. "He hurt my mommy!"

Through the darkness between the two houses, Mr. Deece saw Teresa running after her brother. She was almost running in place, as if she wanted to get to one place without leaving the other. When Mrs. Deece finally got to her by the Deece garage, she was sucking her thumb and unable to speak.

Mr. Deece raced into his den and grabbed two shotguns, one for him, one for his wife. The children were in the kitchen, shocked to the point of being paralyzed. "He hurt Mommy," Michael kept saying. Mrs. Deece cuddled them, told them everything would be fine. She looked at her shotgun when her husband laid it on the table. "Stay here," he said as he rushed out of the house.

He did not go far. Rhoda almost made it to the Deece home before she collapsed in the wet grass. She was completely naked, and from the neck down covered in blood. He picked her up and carried her to the front porch, then shouted at his wife to move the children toward the back of the house and lock them in a bedroom. He could not allow them to see their mother in her last moments.

As he placed her in the swing, Rhoda whispered, "Danny Padgitt. It was Danny Padgitt."

He covered her with a quilt, then called an ambulance.

Danny Padgitt kept his pickup in the center of the road and drove ninety miles an hour. He was half-drunk and scared as hell but unwilling to admit it. He'd be home in ten minutes, secure in the family's little kingdom known as Padgitt Island.

Those little faces had ruined everything. He'd think about it tomorrow. He took a long pull on the fifth of Jack Daniel's and felt better.

It was a rabbit or a small dog or some varmint, and when it darted from the shoulder he caught a glimpse of it and reacted badly. He instinctively hit the brake pedal, just for a split second because he really didn't care what he hit and rather enjoyed the sport of roadkilling, but he'd punched too hard. The rear tires locked and the pickup fishtailed. Before he realized it Danny was in serious trouble. He jerked the wheel one way, the wrong way, and the truck hit the gravel shoulder where it began to spin like a stock car on the backstretch. It slid into the ditch, flipped twice, then crashed into a row of pine trees. If he'd been sober he would've been killed, but drunks walk away.

He crawled out through a shattered window, and for a long while leaned on the truck, counting his cuts and scratches and considering his options. A leg was suddenly stiff, and as he climbed up the bank to the road he realized he could not walk far. Not that he would need to.

The blue lights were on him before he realized it. The deputy was out of the car, surveying the scene with a long black flashlight. More flashing lights appeared down the road.

The deputy saw the blood, smelled the whiskey, and reached for the handcuffs.

From the Hardcover edition.

First Chapter

CHAPTER 2

Rhoda Kassellaw lived in the Beech Hill community, twelve miles north of Clanton, in a modest gray brick house on a narrow, paved country road. The flower beds along the front of the house were weedless and received daily care, and between them and the road the long wide lawn was thick and well cut. The driveway was crushed white rock. Scattered down both sides of it was a collection of scooters and balls and bikes. Her two small children were always outdoors, playing hard, sometimes stopping to watch a passing car.

It was a pleasant little country house, a stone's throw from Mr. And Mrs. Deece next door. The young man who bought it was killed in a trucking accident somewhere in Texas, and, at the age of twenty-eight, Rhoda became a widow. The insurance on his life paid off the house and the car. The balance was invested to provide a modest monthly income that allowed her to remain home and dote on the children. She spent hours outside, tending her vegetable garden, potting flowers, pulling weeds, mulching the beds along the front of the house.

She kept to herself. The old ladies in Beech Hill considered her a model widow, staying home, looking sad, limiting her social appearances to an occasional visit to church. She should attend more regularly, they whispered.

Shortly after the death of her husband, Rhoda planned to return to her family in Missouri. She was not from Ford County, nor was her husband. A job took them there. But the house was paid for, the kids were happy, the neighbors were nice, and her family was much too concerned about how much life insurance she'd collected. So she stayed, always thinking of leaving but never doingso.

Rhoda Kassellaw was a beautiful woman when she wanted to be, which was not very often. Her shapely, thin figure was usually camouflaged under a loose cotton drip-dry dress, or a bulky chambray workshirt, which she preferred when gardening. She wore little makeup and kept her long flaxen-colored hair pulled back and stuck together on top of her head. Most of what she ate came from her organic garden, and her skin had a soft healthy glow to it. Such an attractive young widow would normally have been a hot property in the county, but she kept to herself.

After three years of mourning, however, Rhoda became restless. She was not getting younger; the years were slipping by. She was too young and too pretty to sit at home every Saturday and read bedtime stories. There had to be some action out there, though there was certainly none in Beech Hill.

She hired a young black girl from down the road to baby-sit, and Rhoda drove north for an hour to the Tennessee line, where she'd heard there were some respectable lounges and dance clubs. Maybe no one would know her there. She enjoyed the dancing and the flirting, but she never drank and always came home early. It became a routine, two or three times a month.

Then the jeans got tighter, the dancing faster, the hours longer and longer. She was getting noticed and talked about in the bars and clubs along the state line.

He followed her home twice before he killed her. It was March, and a warm front had brought a premature hope of spring. It was a dark night, with no moon. Bear, the family mutt, sniffed him first as he crept behind a tree in the backyard. Bear was primed to growl and bark when he was forever silenced.

Rhoda's son Michael was five and her daughter Teresa was three. They wore matching Disney cartoon pajamas, neatly pressed, and watched their mother's glowing eyes as she read them the story of Jonah and the whale. She tucked them in and kissed them good night, and when Rhoda turned off the light to their bedroom, he was already in the house.

An hour later she turned off the television, locked the doors, and waited for Bear, who did not appear. That was no surprise because he often chased rabbits and squirrels into the woods and came home late. Bear would sleep on the back porch and wake her howling at dawn. In her bedroom, she slipped out of her light cotton dress and opened the closet door. He was waiting in there, in the dark.

He snatched her from behind, covered her mouth with a thick and sweaty hand, and said, "I have a knife. I'll cut you and your kids." With the other hand he held up a shiny blade and waved it before her eyes.

"Understand?" he hissed into her ear.

She trembled and managed to shake her head. She couldn't see what he looked like. He threw her to the floor of the cluttered closet, face down, and yanked her hands behind her. He took a brown wool scarf an old aunt had given her and wrapped it roughly around her face. "Not one sound," he kept growling at her. "Or I'll cut your kids." When the blindfold was finished he grabbed her hair, snatched her to her feet, and dragged her to her bed. He poked the tip of the blade into her chin and said, "Don't fight me. The knife's right here." He cut off her panties and the rape began.

He wanted to see her eyes, those beautiful eyes he'd seen in the clubs. And the long hair. He'd bought her drinks and danced with her twice, and when he'd finally made a move she had stiff-armed him. Try these moves, baby, he mumbled just loud enough for her to hear.

He and the Jack Daniel's had been building courage for three hours, and now the whiskey numbed him. He moved slowly above her, not rushing things, enjoying every second of it. He mumbled in the self-satisfying grunts of a real man taking and getting what he wanted.

The smell of the whiskey and his sweat nauseated her, but she was too frightened to throw up. It might anger him, cause him to use the knife. As she started to accept the horror of the moment, she began to think. Keep it quiet. Don't wake up the kids. And what will he do with the knife when he's finished?

His movements were faster, he was mumbling louder. "Quiet, baby," he hissed again and again. "I'll use the knife." The wrought-iron bed was squeaking; didn't get used enough, he told himself. Too much noise, but he didn't care.

The rattling of the bed woke Michael, who then got Teresa up. They eased from their room and crept down the dark hall to see what was happening. Michael opened the door to his mother's bedroom, saw the strange man on top of her, and said, "Mommy!" For a second the man stopped and jerked his head toward the children.

The sound of the boy's voice horrified Rhoda, who bolted upward and thrust both hands at her assailant, grabbing whatever she could. One small fist caught him in the left eye, a solid shot that stunned him. Then she yanked off her blindfold while kicking with both legs. He slapped her and tried to pin her down again. "Danny Padgitt!" she shouted, still clawing. He hit her once more.

"Mommy!" Michael cried.

"Run, kids!" Rhoda tried to scream, but she was struck dumb by her assailant's blows.

"Shut up!" Padgitt yelled.

"Run!" Rhoda shouted again, and the children backed away, then darted down the hallway, into the kitchen, and outside to safety.

In the split second after she shouted his name, Padgitt realized he had no choice but to silence her. He took the knife and hacked twice, then scrambled from the bed and grabbed his clothing.

Mr. and Mrs. Aaron Deece were watching late television from Memphis when they heard Michael's voice calling and getting closer. Mr. Deece met the boy at the front door. His pajamas were soaked with sweat and dew and his teeth were chattering so violently he had trouble speaking.

"He hurt my mommy!" he kept saying. "He hurt my mommy!"

Through the darkness between the two houses, Mr. Deece saw Teresa running after her brother. She was almost running in place, as if she wanted to get to one place without leaving the other. When Mrs. Deece finally got to her by the Deece garage, she was sucking her thumb
and unable to speak.

Mr. Deece raced into his den and grabbed two shotguns, one for him, one for his wife. The children were in the kitchen, shocked to the point of being paralyzed. "He hurt Mommy," Michael kept saying. Mrs. Deece cuddled them, told them everything would be fine. She looked at her shotgun when her husband laid it on the table. "Stay here," he said as he rushed out of the house.

He did not go far. Rhoda almost made it to the Deece home before she collapsed in the wet grass. She was completely naked, and from the neck down covered in blood. He picked her up and carried her to the front porch, then shouted at his wife to move the children toward the back
of the house and lock them in a bedroom. He could not allow them to see their mother in her last moments.

As he placed her in the swing, Rhoda whispered, "Danny Padgitt. It was Danny Padgitt."

He covered her with a quilt, then called an ambulance.

Danny Padgitt kept his pickup in the center of the road and drove ninety miles an hour. He was half-drunk and scared as hell but unwilling to admit it. He'd be home in ten minutes, secure in the family's little kingdom known as Padgitt Island.

Those little faces had ruined everything. He'd think about it tomorrow. He took a long pull on the fifth of Jack Daniel's and felt better.

It was a rabbit or a small dog or some varmint, and when it darted from the shoulder he caught a glimpse of it and reacted badly. He instinctively hit the brake pedal, just for a split second because he really didn't care what he hit and rather enjoyed the sport of roadkilling, but he'd punched too hard. The rear tires locked and the pickup fishtailed. Before he realized it Danny was in serious trouble. He jerked the wheel one way, the wrong way, and the truck hit the gravel shoulder where it began to spin like a stock car on the backstretch. It slid into the ditch, flipped twice, then crashed into a row of pine trees. If he'd been sober he would've been killed, but drunks walk away.

He crawled out through a shattered window, and for a long while leaned on the truck, counting his cuts and scratches and considering his options. A leg was suddenly stiff, and as he climbed up the bank to the road he realized he could not walk far. Not that he would need to.

The blue lights were on him before he realized it. The deputy was out of the car, surveying the scene with a long black flashlight. More flashing lights appeared down the road.

The deputy saw the blood, smelled the whiskey, and reached for the handcuffs.

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conniejackson

Posted December 28, 2010

more from this reviewer

A Small Town Story of truth and justice.

In my opinion, this story of the little Southern town with its small town newspaper owner and its citizens was just a super read. I enjoyed the world of Willie as he became more known by the folks of this Mississippi hamlet. Mr. Crisham did an excellent jobe of developing his character in such a way that I couldn't help but read page after page wondering what adventure he would stumble into.
Without hesitation I would recommend this book to all my friends.

2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.
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Anonymous

Posted December 12, 2011

The Last Juror, by Grisham

was such a fantastic read that I hated for it to end!

1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
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BolivarJ

Posted May 2, 2011

I Also Recommend:

Unforgettable, Ford County at its Best. Certainly Miss Callie would approve this book as one of Grisham's Best.

Grisham has written a monumental book, enriched with great characters, Miss Callie and her sweet tea, Willie Traynor, the young owner of the town's newspaper. through him, Grisham does a wonderful job narrating the life in Clanton, a small town in the South that changed with a different direction as the years went by since he first arrived. With a very deep sentiment engaged in the life of every character, and unfolding it in a bittersweet ending, Grisham accomplishes a masterpiece. In the aftermath of Danny Padgitt's trial after he was convicted of murdering and raping Rhoda Cassella, he swore revenge on those members of the jury who convicted him, nine years later, he was paroled and the deaths of the jurors began. Willie Traynor, owner of the Ford County Times, followed the events, and the moments when a regular town in Clanton Mississippi, life began to change. Grisham's "The Last Juror" is definitely one of Grisham's best works. Taking readers back to Ford County, Grisham chronicles the events of almost a decade in Ford County. Beautifully written, and certainly edited and proofread by Miss Callie. "The Last Juror" is an unforgettable tale, of life in a small town. With every single character to like, who will be able to forget Baggy jumping out of a third floor drunk during a gunfire, and Harry Rex hilarious intelligence, or thinking about hiring Danny Padgitt's lawyer, Mr. Willbanks. "The Last Juror" is simply irresistible. It will make you laugh, maybe cry, but it for sure will establish Grisham as one of the best writers out there.

1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
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Anonymous

Posted December 24, 2011

Very good book.

Well written
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LakesideTom

Posted November 18, 2011

Another Grisham great. Four stars

Great setting and time period. A tasteful and open look at the sixty's in the south.
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grisham_fan

Posted September 20, 2011

Disappointed

The story does not center around the title of the book. Written from the view point of a newspaper owner, it's more like a reflection on the happenings of Ford County. It didn't help that they synopsis was somewhat misleading as well. I was so anxious to find out if Danny was the killer but lost steam to continue reading after a quarter of the book because it seems like Grisham was more keen on talking about Mr Willie and his newspaper. This is not one of his better books in my opinion.
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8149658

Posted September 18, 2011

Slow

The last 100 pages were the best. I found the book slow and boring. I was expecting another "A Time to Kill" or "Pelican Brief" or The Client" or even "The Firm". Grishim's first 4 novels remain his best in my opinion.
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kaebee29

Posted August 14, 2011

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Awesome read!

John Grisham is a masterful story teller... I have enjoyed all of his books and this one is par for the course. I rely on the description of the book and then look to reviews, however I don't understand why some feel the need to write a book report... so annoying
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Love_BooksVA

Posted July 18, 2011

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Great

I just love it!
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LillyParksONBooks

Posted March 11, 2011

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A Great Small Town Story of truth and justice

I thought this story of the little Southern town; its small town newspaper owner and its citizens was just a super read. I enjoyed the world of Willie as he became more known by the folks of this Mississippi hamlet. Mr. Crisham did an excellent jobe of developing his character in such a way that I couldn't help but read page after page wondering what adventure he would stumble into. Without hesitation I would recommend this book to all my friends.
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Brigit

Posted May 19, 2010

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Something a little different from John Grisham

I found this book to be a little different than other John Grisham novels. The pace of this books was a bit slower, like the small, southern town it portrays. The main character has nothing to do with the legal field either. The young man who moves to this sleepy little town buys the local newspaper and gets it back on its feet. His biggest challenge was not running the newspaper, but trying to fit in. I love that as soon as he traded in his typical "Yankee" clothes for a typical Southern gentleman's suit, he found it a lot easier to make friends.

There is a guersome murder which shakes up the whole town and has them watching the news reports of the trial very closely, which makes the local paper very successful. There are some very good plot twists and some very good tense situations as well.
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Sean_From_OHIO

Posted December 1, 2009

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Tale of small town Mississippi with some murders thrown in!

Its human nature to assume and I assumed this tale by John Grisham was going to be a legal thriller. There were many scenes in and around a courtroom. There were thrilling scenes and a mystery. There was a vilain or two. This however was just a solid piece of fiction about small town Mississippi and its inhabitants as seen through the eyes of the main character. It was a really enjoyable read. Great stuff.
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Anonymous

Posted September 5, 2009

Great read!

Once again, Grisham writes a book that is captivating! My husband and I have listened to this book twice, and have recentely passed it along to a family member.
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Is26-10

Posted June 13, 2009

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true to Grisham form

a surprising and satisfactory ending.
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TomBarnes39

Posted February 13, 2009

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Willie Traynor and the Ford County Times

William, Willie, Traynor grew up in an affluent Memphis family, studied journalism at Syracuse University for five years. Willie returned to Memphis when his education funds ran out and almost by default inherited a Mississippi weekly newspaper at the age of 23.
Willie¿s first edition of The Ford County Times, located in Clanton, Mississippi featured a front-page photograph of the entire staff. One of Willie¿s first changes was to include Ford County blacks on the obituary page.
The paper was almost bankrupt and Willie figured it would take at least a year of hard work to turn things around, and that was counting on help from his rich grandmother.
However, The Ford County Times fortunes changed with a violent murder in a rural setting some twelve miles north of Clanton.
The rape and murder of Rhoda Kassellaw took place with her two young children looking on. The rapist killer was quickly identified as Danny Padgitt, the youngest son of a wealthy, clannish family that lived on an isolated and protected island.
Willie Traynor followed the investigation of the murder case with the fervor of a Tabloid reporter.
The introduction of Callie and Esau Ruffin and their children came just as the court hearings got under way. And at that point the story begins to espouse civil rights causes and Miss Callie became the first black person to be seated on a jury in Ford County and the last juror seated in the Kassellaw murder case.
The court case took several weeks to play out and with an overwhelming amount of physical evidence along with eyewitnesses Danny Padgitt was found guilty.
In the sentencing phase of the trial the jury deadlocked on the death penalty and as a consequence Padgitt was awarded a life sentence.
Following the judges¿ life sentence announcement Danny Padgitt made an awful scene where he threatened every member of the jury
John Grisham¿s story line and pace were somewhat erratic but even so, he uses the twists and turns in the plot to bring the story to a satisfactory conclusion. Not his best effort, yet good enough to recommend.
Tom Barnes www.tombarnes39.com
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Anonymous

Posted September 8, 2008

Life altering

I don't read very much but I will tell you that after reading this book, I will continue to read Grisham until I read them all.....it was awesome.
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Anonymous

Posted May 13, 2008

'a general reveiw'

The Last Juror takes place in 1970, Clanton Mississippi. A new college grad from New York, Willie Traynor came to this town not sure what to do. Within a year of living in Clanton he bought the local newspaper ¿Ford County Times.¿ Oddly the paper is known for its lengthily and well written obituaries. While 1970 America was caught up in political turmoil and social change, Clanton Mississippi was still living in the past. Brutal crimes where almost unheard of in this small southern town. Murders and rapists were a thing of the big city, until one murder struck fear and anger into the entire county, Willie Traynor owned the only weekly paper in town and had to cover this sensational story. Over the next nine years as he covers this gory crime and many local events, he goes from an outsider to a well respected fellow citizen. He also covers things from the war in Vietnam to desegregation in Ford County. The murder that occurred nine years earlier now almost forgotten is abruptly brought back to front page news. Now nine people who served on a jury are now being gunned down as a smart and deadly killer exacts revenge on a almost forgotten trial.
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Anonymous

Posted May 3, 2007

The great southern writer returns!

I have read many of Grishom's books. In fact I got tired of the same old story, in the same old setting, with the same old type of characters. This book brought back the excitment of novel's like A Time to Kill. A genuine dislike for the Padgitt's and and sympathy for the Ruffin's made this a great read!!!
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Anonymous

Posted November 30, 2006

The Last Juror

I really enjoyed the book . It is about Willie Traynor who is 22 years old and decides to move to Ford County. There he purchases the newspaper company with help fom his grandmother. He writes the columns and the most important one is about a young widow who gets murdered and Danny Padgitt from the rich Padgitt family is accused. As he goes to trial they find him gulity but they cannot agree on the death penalty.
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Anonymous

Posted December 7, 2006

A Great Book

I would recommend this book for reading. I admit that the first chapters you really have to read it slow because Grisham is introducing many characters and it is very easily to get them confused. Then the second chapter starts out exciting. He then proceeds to tell you about the different people in the town. How he got started in the newspaper business and his experience that he soon became aware of. The ending will shock you but I will not say too much because I do not want to spoil it for you. Hope you enjoy the book as much as I did.
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A Small Town Story of truth and justice.

The Last Juror, by Grisham

Unforgettable, Ford County at its Best. Certainly Miss Callie would approve this book as one of Grisham's Best.

Very good book.

Another Grisham great. Four stars

Disappointed

Slow

Awesome read!

Great

A Great Small Town Story of truth and justice

Something a little different from John Grisham

Tale of small town Mississippi with some murders thrown in!

Great read!

true to Grisham form

Willie Traynor and the Ford County Times

Life altering

'a general reveiw'

The great southern writer returns!

The Last Juror

A Great Book