The Professor Read Online Free PDF Page A

put up with hard but scared workers. He could put up with assholes that thought they knew more than he did. But he could not— would not— stand for those who did not care. It was his mission to work those people until they quit. To rid the team of the turds, as the Man would have said.
    “All right, my name is Tom McMurtrie and this is Evidence. My goal in this endeavor is simple and twofold. First, I want you people, each and every one of you, to walk out of this classroom in May as five-column lawyers. And second, for those that aren’t willing to work and pay the price to be a five-column lawyer, I want to make you quit before you quit on your client one day.” Tom paused to let the words sink in. He saw a pained expression on a young woman’s face in the front row. He looked down at his class directory, or “face book” as the students called it, which contained a photograph of every student in the class. The young woman’s name was Dawn Murphy. Twenty-six years old. Elba, Alabama.
    “Ms. Murphy,” Tom bellowed, loud enough for the turds sitting in the top row to hear without leaning forward. The young woman, who was probably quite attractive when she didn’t have the fear of God plastered on her face, raised her hand off the yellow notebook she had been furiously writing on and extended it to about shoulder level.
    With her hand in the air, she stammered, “Uhh . . . Yes, sir?”
    “You are Ms. Dawn Murphy?” Tom asked.
    “Yes, sir,” Ms. Murphy said, and Tom was convinced that, other than her two colleagues on the front row, none of the ninety-five students in the class had heard a word.
    “Ms. Murphy, you’re gonna have to speak up. Your esteemed colleagues who have chosen to make their first impression from a distance no doubt did not hear you.”
    “Yes, sir.” A better effort that probably reached about halfway up.
    “Ms. Murphy, you are from Elba, are you not?” A few snickers in the crowd. Elba was one of the smaller towns in Alabama. For some reason, Tom always picked the small-town students. Elba. Opp. Hamilton. Maybe it was because he himself was from the small town of Hazel Green in North Alabama. Or maybe these people, over the years, just seemed to be more interesting.
    “Yes, sir. Born and raised.”
    Yes, just as Tom had thought. You were unlikely to get the “born and raised” part from the Birmingham folks or the Mobile blue bloods. But a sweet young thing from Elba. Born and raised, by God. Tom smiled at Ms. Murphy, hoping to make this cross-examination a little easier on a student that had already managed to impress him.
    “Ms. Murphy, when you walk out of this classroom in May, are you”—Tom paused for effect, scanning the other faces in the crowd—“gonna be a five-column lawyer?” Trick question, Tom knew. Answer yes and the rest of the class will wonder who this girl thinks she is. Answer no and show weakness in front of the enemy.
    “Yes, sir, I hope to be. By the grace of God, I hope to be,” she said with a smile, invoking nervous laughter around the classroom. That a girl , Tom thought. By the grace of God. Gotta love those small towns.
    “Me too, Ms. Murphy. Me too. It’s my job to make that happen. Now let’s get started.” Tom scanned the faces in the back row, looking for the example. The sacrificial lamb. In the top row, the second to last seat from the upstairs exit, Tom found his victim. Blond, shaggy hair. Three-day growth of beard. Nothing in front of him. No books. Haven’t had time to hit the bookstore yet, huh , champ? No notebook. Not even a damn pen. This was going to be fun. Scanning the face book, he found the name he was looking for. Jonathon Tinsel. Twenty-five years old. Birmingham, Alabama.
    “Mr. Tinsel,” Tom said, loud enough to shake the foundation of the building. “Where is Jonathon Tinsel from the magic city of Birmingham?”
    The shaggy, unshaven man on the back row raised his hand and, with a glazed look in his eyes,