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Authors: David Kessler

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“My defence is going to be very simple: the truth.
I don

t need your help with that.
I have nothing to hide and no reason to erect a barrier of technicalities.
Your field is the law.
My concern is the truth.
That

s what I

m going to give them.”

She continued eating while he watched her, the puzzlement continuing.
Her face remained as inscrutable as her words.
He couldn

t penetrate the enigma.
Finally he too started eating, realizing that he was going to make no headway.

For a couple of minutes they ate in silence, the tension still lingering.
All the while a thought was eating away at Parker, a thought which he was afraid to verbalize.
But he knew that he had nothing to lose.

“The way you

re carrying on before the jury, they

ll think you

re
tough
enough to commit murder.”

It was so unexpected that she was forced to stop eating and look up at him.

“I am.”

With a valiant effort, he stopped himself from choking.
She seemed to be holding back a smile, as if secretly amused by the effect her words had had upon him.
She was about to attack her food again.
But he couldn

t leave her remark hanging in the air like that, like a cloud hovering over them.

“Do you want to spell that out?” asked Parker.

“What I

m trying to say is...” Justine seemed to hesitate for the first time.

Whatever
I do... it

s what I
want
to do... and it

s what I think is right.

“That sounds ominous,” he replied.

“All right, let me make it a little clearer Rick.
You don

t know a damn thing about me.
You don

t know if I

m guilty or not.
If I am you don

t know why I did it.
For all you know I could be a murderess.
Yet you

re ready to fight for me as hard as if you were sure that I
was
innocent...
but no harder
.
In other words Rick you don

t care about whether or not justice is done.
The only thing you care about is
winning
.

“That

s not true!”
But the denial was too emphatic to be sincere.
There was no pain in his cry, just vehemence.
“OK you

re right, I
do
care about winning.
But I also care about the rights of the defendant.
The defendant has the right to the best defence possible.
It

s for the jury to decided on the facts.”

“Spare me the platitudes Rick!” she spat out contemptuously.
“You let the cat out of the bag when you said

defendant

.
You didn

t say

you

.
You used that anonymous impersonal word “defendant”.
Admit it Rick, you were reciting the standard formula you learned at law school.”

But he sensed that there was more than contempt in her reply.
There was anger.
It was as if something he had said had set her off.
It was not him, he realized.
It was what he said

what it represented.
His remark had set off something within her, or touched a raw nerve, and he felt that if he could find out what, he would find himself holding the last piece of the puzzle, the key that could unlock the mystery.

The seconds of half a minute ticked by while they attacked their food in earnest.
Only briefly, and imperceptibly, did Justine glance up to notice Rick

s boyish curly hair.
By the time Rick had the courage to look up again there was no sign that she had ever looked away from her food.

“I liked your speech.
It really knocked Abrams off course.”

“It was nothing.
I just had to open their minds.
But you won

t be hearing much from me for a while.
I plan to let Abrams run the circus from now, at least for the time being.”

“There was something I wanted to ask about...your strategy when it came to jury selection.”

“What did you make of it?”

“Well one minute you seemed to be antagonizing the panel by the kind of questions that a rookie like me would know not to ask, almost as if you were hell-bent on challenging them or else really wanted to empanel a hostile jury.
Then the next minute you said something to win them over to your side.
Very often it was just a single word or sentence.
And there were some cases where you almost assaulted them with impertinent questions and then won them over by looking them in the eye without smiling and saying:

acceptable to the defence,

as if you were exchanging some sort of coded signal.”

“Did I challenge any of them?”

“You used up all of your peremptories.”

“So I wasn

t capable of winning them all over to my side.”

“Well no it wasn

t that.
Some of them seemed like they were incapable of getting angry about anything.”

“What

s that got to do with it?”

“Those were the ones you challenged.”

“And what sort of jury did I get for my trouble?”

“I

d say a jury of hardheads.
Tough, unemotional people.
People like you in fa...”

As he trailed off into the silence of realization, she nodded her head slowly as if to underscore the lesson which he had just learned.

“It

s true,” she said.
“I did win them over as friends before the trial started.
But that wasn

t what I was trying to do.
They liked me because they recognize me as one of them.
But I wanted
them
because I recognize them as being like me, at least partly.
Let Abrams rant and rave about

that unfortunate man

or

that wicked lady

and I

ll come right back and spell out the facts, including the ones he

s trying so hard to sweep under the rug.
By the time this trial is over there are going to be no secrets left between me and the jury.”

“There was another thing I noticed though.
When you made your opening speech, you kept looking at just one juror, James Lawson I think.
Don

t you understand that by singling out one juror like you

re antagonizing the others, that

s something I learned in a course on jury psychology.
Also it might make Lawson nervous.”

“He

s not the type to get nervous.
He

s a self-made millionaire who worked his way up from the gutter.
Your saw what he was like: tough as nails.”

“But I still don

t see why you did it,” Parker persisted.

“OK, well first of all I picked Lawson because of all the members of the jury he seemed like the most self-confident, one of the most intelligent and certainly the one with the most commanding presence.
Incidentally, you may have noticed that I also went out of my way to empanel an intelligent jury.
I challenged some veniremen with paper degrees because they looked
like they weren

t capable of independent thought.
You know the type, the kind that can only bite into a mouthful of knowledge too big to swallow and then spit it out in the examination room.
At the same time I gave the green light to the kind of people who learned their work on the job and haven

t surrendered their minds to stale conformity.
They

re not the kind who think the world is all roses and candies and they aren

t the kind who can

t think at all.”

“But still, why did you address everything to one juror?”

Her face softened, flattered by the earnest sincerity of his question.

“Rick, imagine that at the end of the trial, when the jury retires to consider their verdict, you

re allowed to go into the jury room to argue the case all over again and answer any questions or doubts they may have. Imagine further that the judge allows you to stay in the jury room throughout their deliberations and remind them of all the facts and points that are favourable to your case and to challenge any point that may be unfavourable.
Imagine that after the prosecutor has finished his closing argument and thinks he

s had the last word, you can come along and undermine everything he

s said.
Imagine further that you can meet with and speak to each and every juror separately and customize your arguments to their peculiarities, to allay their doubts with individual arguments directed at each one in turn.
Would that give you an advantage?”

“I

ll say!”

“Now let

s consider a variation on the theme.
Suppose that you aren

t allowed to go in there yourself, but you

re allowed to send in a friend to do all these things on your behalf.”

“I guess that would still be an advantage, maybe even a better one, because with a friend to do it for you it wouldn

t look like it

s self-serving.
That

s why it

s always better to be represented by a lawyer.”

He couldn

t resist that last dig.

“All right,” she sailed on, brushing aside his final comment, “Now imagine that this ambassador of yours is intelligent and persuasive, as well as being a shrewd judge of human character.”

“I guess it would give me an
overwhelming
advantage.”

“Well Rick, James Lawson is going to be my ambassador in the jury room.”

He swallowed the cola that was already in his mouth and almost launched into a coughing spasm.

“Do you mean to say that you cooked up a deal with a juror?”

In the space of a fraction of a second the look of satisfaction was swept away from Justine

s face.
What stood in its place was regret.
There was no hint of any fear of being revealed or anger at being insulted, just an immense disappointment.

“Rick if I

d cooked up a deal with Lawson, either before of after he was empanelled, do you think I

d make it so obvious by staring straight at him in public all the time?”

“I guess not.”

“Then doesn

t it occur to you that the rapport I

ve built up with him has taken place exclusively in the courtroom?”

Parker said nothing.
He sat watching her in helpless fascination, still trying desperately to unravel the mystery within the puzzle.
She made no effort to fill the silence.
But when it was clear that her words had penetrated the surface of his understanding, she continued.

“Rick I

ve never seen that man before the day he was selected for the jury and I haven

t spoken to him for so much as a second outside the courtroom.
What I

m doing is communicating with him
inside
the courtroom.
I

m addressing my arguments to him, reaching out to him in the courtroom and turning him into my ally.
There

s nothing devious or under-handed about it.
I

m just showing him how much we have in common.”

BOOK: A Fool for a Client
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