Chapter 6: The Trial
The emergency injunction hearing began July 31, 2026, in Aberdeen, Mississippi, at the federal courthouse.
A run-down town. But an old-money, Deep-South feel. A building put up in a time when U.S. Senators could still stick special projects in a bill. A lot of political power has come out of Northeast Mississippi over the years. Not only this federal court building. There is also the Thad Cochran Bankruptcy Court in this small town.
But now a town gutted and run down. A grocery store with fried chicken and a Subway that got wiped out that week by all the attorneys at our trial. No cheese, no chips, and hardly even any bread left before the truck ran again. If you ever go to Aberdeen, the fried chicken and vegetables at the local grocery store is the place to eat, by the way. Warm meals and a friendly smile. Worth every penny.
The U.S. Marshals assigned to this building’s security are real salt-of-the-earth guys. You can tell they have been around a long time and seen a lot of crazy stuff in their years watching over that building. Never felt safer in a building than in that one. Built like a fort. Modern for its day, heavily dated now. Post office boxes for the small town locals on the left as you came in. One way in and one way out. Metal detectors, pockets emptied, and everything on the conveyor belt to go through the scanner.
Very quiet and clean. Old pictures of judges that go way back. Courtrooms were upstairs. The public elevator was out all week so we took the stairs. I like taking the stairs anyway. Two courtrooms up there. We were in the one on the left. A brass doorknob into the courtroom so smooth and worn from over the years people purposely waited for someone else to open the door so they wouldn’t have to be the one to mess around with it to get it open. When you entered it felt like walking into a walk-in cooler. The judge must like it cold. Wooden pews either side at the back as you walk in serve as the gallery with very bright white lights. A place to be respected. A place where serious business took place.
The Defendants — the state hired attorneys, Fitch’s stand-in designee from the AG’s office (she dare not show her face there), the ACLU posse, and Meacham’s worthless attorneys — all sat at the same long set of tables to the left. They had to push several tables together because there were so many of them. Meacham, Watson’s staff, and Tate’s goofy errand boy texting the play-by-play all hung out together in the pews behind us to the left. We the Plaintiffs sat in the middle at a table facing the judge. An empty jury section to the right, unneeded for this trial.
What a hornet’s nest I had whacked. If I had to guess, over a million dollars in legal fees sitting at the table to my left all together in federal court laughing at us.
The state hired Brunini, Grantham, Grower & Hewes out of Jackson and authorized up to $250,000 of taxpayer money to fight us. The contract ran July 9, 2026 through July 8, 2027, at $425 an hour for attorneys. They signed it one week after we filed. Solid firm. Heavy hitters. If I ever wanted to violate someone’s constitutional rights they would definitely be the guys I’d hire.
The ACLU flew in their top voting-rights attorneys from around the country — Chicago, New York, D.C. Many of the same attorneys that have been fighting the Trump administration the last ten years. Add all these attorneys to the mix and it was over a dozen lawyers there to try and make sure that 86% of DeSoto County wouldn’t get to vote for two judges.
Our county Election Commission ran more exact numbers during the hearing. It came out that only 14% of the voting-age population live in the actual voting district. The bills had old precincts in them. So 86% VAP live outside the district and can’t vote.
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