Spoilers!
Something every citizen ought to learn is the concept of jury nullification. That is, when you’re empaneled as a juror, you know that by the standards of the law someone is guilty, and you, nevertheless, vote “not guilty” to in, effect, nullify the law. Famously, of course, this was done in response to the Fugitive Slave Act, but it’s been in done in the face of other laws deemed morally untenable to enforce, at least by jurors. I, for one, find it a beautiful civic weapon in our democratic arsenal, if you will. A more recent modern example of this is a grand jury refusing to indict the “Sandwich Man,” which is ironic since the saying goes that a grand jury will indict a ham sandwich. But judges also wield an enormous amount of power and discretion over what occurs in their courtroom. They, too, can exercise their version of nullification, just of the aforementioned jurors, if the judge thinks they’ve erred.
These days, it seems our most contentious debates do not occur at the Capitol or with presidents intent on persuading from the Oval Office, but in courtrooms, from federal and state to even local. The law is its thorniest when moral judgement is more evenly split on its efficacy and prudence in the face of downstream effects, or unintended consequences.
The formidable Viola Davis, along with the prolific James Patterson, teamed up for 2026’s legal thriller, Judge Stone, that deals with the moral and political hot potato of abortion in the Deep South, with very real stakes. I was engaged from the opening pages to the very final page, owing in part to my inherent nerdiness and appreciation of legal thrillers, but also to naturally picturing Viola Davis playing the titular fiery, stubborn Judge Mary Stone, and of course, it being a damn good story. I know my snobs out there will look askance at Patterson’s name attached to this (I’ve liked what I’ve read of Patterson’s, for the record), but this didn’t read like a traditional Patterson whodunit, like his Alex Cross books, but more John Grisham-esque. And dare I say, Judge Stone was one of my sneaky favorite reads of the year.
The aforementioned Judge Stone is a Black woman in black robes in Alabama. That’s nearly unheard of, even a generation ago. Nowadays, there’s 16 Black women judges (out of 40 judges total) serving in Jefferson County, Alabama alone, which includes the city of Birmingham. The first Black woman to serve as a circuit court judge, of which Stone is in the book, was Carole Smitherman, who was appointed in 1991. In the book, Stone presides over Bullock County, and particularly, works out of the city of Union Springs, the county seat. Now, Bullock County is majority-African American, but especially as regards those who hold positions of power, we’re still talking about the Deep South, or as it’s referred to in the book, the Black Belt in reference to its rich soil, but also legacy of slavery and white elite power continuing into the present day.
The very first case we see Judge Stone rule over is whether a man ought to be sentenced to death for murdering an elderly couple. Judge Stone, in what I’m realizing now is a bit of foreshadowing for the climax, rejects the jury’s recommendation and instead sentences the man to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. In an interesting remark that also runs counter, depending on your viewpoint, to what she expresses later, Judge Stone explains her ruling, “Because I believe in the sanctity of human life. Even your despicable life is sacred.”
Speaking of the “sanctity of human life,” three years before Roe v. Wade was overturned in 2022, Alabama passed the Human Life Protection Act, which effectively banned abortion in the state with the lone exception of if the mother’s life was in danger. So, yes, even a person impregnated by rape or incest would under this law have to carry the baby to term. And no, it doesn’t matter if the pregnant girl is under the age of 18. (The law didn’t actually go into effect until Roe v. Wade fell.) The highest penalty for doctors performing an abortion is 99 years to life imprisonment, which is such an odd way to phrase a punishment since 99 years is life imprisonment.
With that table setting, the book opens with Nova, a Black 13-year-old, sister to a number of siblings she often helps her single mother take care of, receiving an abortion from one of the few Black doctors, and one of the few doctors period in Bullock County, Dr. Bria Gaines. Nova’s school nurse, Cocheta Bass, is the one who discovered Nova was pregnant and connected her with Dr. Gaines. Nova is trying to hide the abortion from her mother. However, after the abortion, when she’s in a lot of pain and can’t hide it any longer, the situation reaches the attention of law enforcement and the District Attorney for the county. Dr. Gaines and Bass are promptly arrested. Bass is essentially threatened into flipping on Gaines.
Dr. Gaines, then, faces up to life imprisonment for violating the Human Life Protection Act and performing an abortion on a 13-year-old girl, who it’s understood, mind you, that she was raped. Even the original version of the story, which police and prosecutors coerced Nova into agreeing to, is a rape story: she was a high school party, was drunk, and some guy forced her into “sex.” The real story? She was attacked behind a gas station by two white teenagers, one (or both?) of whom belonged to a white supremacist group, with a K mark on his arm. What’s astonishing to me is how much her mother didn’t seem to care, and indeed, seems of the opinion that Nova ought to have given birth to the child! Heck, Nova’s already a quasi-mother to her younger siblings anyhow.
Judge Stone sympathizes with Nova for a number of reasons, not only because she’s a Black girl who is seen as older than her actual age because she’s bigger, but because Judge Stone was also raped (at around 15), and then later, in her 20s, had an abortion. The DA, and then the Assistant Attorney General of Alabama, who is brought in to prosecute the case with the DA because she’s a woman and that’ll help the optics of the case, they think, want to use Judge Stone’s past abortion as a cudgel against her ability to rule impartially. Indeed, they wanted her to recuse herself even before they knew that explosive information. However, when the AAG tries to blackmail Judge Stone off the case after learning of the abortion, Judge Stone retorts that she has her own dirty material on the Attorney General, who is a womanizing sleazebag. That ends that discussion.
Benjamin Meyers, a charismatic defense attorney from Atlanta, hears about Dr. Gaines case and decides to pitch her to become her new attorney. Reluctant at first, she ultimately agrees. His motive does seem pure and it’s never contradicted: he just wants to help her because what’s happening is wrong. It’s not even about the publicity, as there’s not one scene where he’s performing for the television cameras. And yes, to that point, the case naturally becomes a hotbed for media attention, which also brings out the white supremacist group to terrorize Bass, ultimately lynching her (ugh), and trying to terrorize Judge Stone herself, including blowing up her farmhouse, which had been in her family for generations (there’s a small subplot where a grifter tries to claim he owns the property since it’s heirs’ property to bilk the Judge for money, but it doesn’t work). The Alabama Governor calls in the National Guard. There’s pro-life and pro-choice demonstrators and activists. It’s a lot. But at the heart of the story are our three characters I came to love and sympathize with: Judge Stone trying to put on a fair trial for Dr. Gaines, a force-of-nature in the courtroom, who often uncharacteristically comes out from behind the bench; Dr. Gaines trying to keep her life; and most importantly, a 13-year-old girl who was raped, who doesn’t want to see Dr. Gaines punished, and who certainly doesn’t want to lie under oath about what happened. The latter doesn’t when the time comes. Nova tells the truth. Of course, by the prosecutors’ argument, the fact of her rape is immaterial to whether Dr. Gaines violated Alabama’s abortion law.
There will be no jury nullification in this case. The jury does say they are deadlocked initially, but Judge Stone encourages them to continue deliberating. They then come back with a verdict: guilty. However, they “split the baby,” as it were, and recommended a 10-year sentence, the minimum under the Alabama abortion law. Still, 10 years! That’s when Judge Stone decides to throw her political and judicial career over the cliff, as she sees it, by doing her version of jury nullification: nullifying the will of the jury by throwing out their verdict. Under Alabama’s Rule 20.3, a judge can do that (notably, it can’t go in the other direction, i.e., overturning a not guilty verdict in favor of guilt). It’s also an acquittal, meaning the prosecutors can’t appeal or see it overturned by a higher court. It is exceedingly rare for judges to do this because jurors and the will of the jury are considered, rightly, sacrosanct. And of course, there’s the political question of doing that. In Judge Stone’s case, she’s about to face an election for her second term. But she thinks it’s the right thing to do for Dr. Gaines.
Everything is wrapped up neatly thereafter: Dr. Gaines is free and moves to Chicago (unfortunate for the residents of Bullock County who relied on her necessary services, but it’s not her fault); the juveniles who raped Nova are arrested and charged, as is the man who killed Bass and blew up Judge Stone’s farmhouse; and wildly enough, far from losing her reelection bid, Judge Stone easily defeats her challenger in a shocking upset. Apparently, she galvanized voters into one a historic turnout in her favor. I wish life, especially in the Deep South, was this neat, notwithstanding the horrors that still occurred prior to the ending.
(I also am not sure my legal understanding of Rule 20.3 would apply to what Judge Stone did in the book, but that’s what makes it fiction and fun.)
I’m never sure how to parse a book with more than one author, as in, who is owed more credit per se for the writing and story. But as I said, with Judge Stone, it didn’t read like any Patterson book I’ve read, at least. So, I’m giving credit more to Davis. Regardless, what a blast of a book to read. A legal thriller is like catnip to me, and this one was delicious, with its Deep South setting, hot button issue of abortion, and the race and gender power dynamics at play therein. I highly, highly recommend this book, and I hope we get more Judge Stone from Davis and Patterson. She did win a second six-year term, after all.
Milam's Musings 