Monday, September 30, 2019
He is a compact, pugnacious man of 51, with wavy brown hair just graying at the temples. When he stands up from his giant mahogany desk, beaming incandescently with hand outstretched, it’s like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Buzbee favors Texas trial lawyer–chic attire: on this day a custom-made, royal-blue linen jacket—Brioni—jeans, a black T-shirt faded just so, custom-made boots, a gold watch sprinkled with diamonds, and a few braided leather bracelets, which direct the eye to the shark tattoo on his forearm. Buzbee’s eyes, just a shade paler than the Houston sky on a clear day, look diabolical only if you stare really closely.