Compelling Evidence (31 page)

"Yes."

"Well, you didn't tell us your husband was in police. That is rather important." ‐I thought you meant real law enforcement," she says.

There's a little laughter from the audience. The judge is shaking his head. "Go on, Mr. Madriani." I give the Coconut a took, like

"Thanks for

all your help."

"Does your husband make arrests in his line of work?"

"On the base," she says. "Does he testify in court?" "Military court‐martials." She pauses for a moment, straining in the box to think.

This lady's not going to get caught twice. "One time in federal court,"

she admits. "Do you understand, Mrs. Jackson, that much of the testimony which will be provided by the state in this case will come from sworn law enforcement officers?"

She nods. "You have to speak audibly so the reporter can hear you," I tell her. "Yes, I understand about the police testifying."

"How reliable do you believe a police officer's testimony is, Mrs.

Jackson?" '@Good," she says. Like the Bible lettered in gold, I think. i

"Would you tend to think it's more believable than testimony r7i=‐ @ by, say, a plumber?' "Not if they're talking about fixing a sink," she says.

There are a few chuckles from the panel and the audience. 1 17, 1' along with them, like some cheap MC. "Would you believe your husband, Mrs.

Jacksont' "Depends what he told me." More laughter from the audience.

@"‐4 loosening up now, a regular sit‐down comic. "Would you tend to think that the testimony of a police officer %"";; believable, say, than testimony from a secretary?" 'd have to hear the testimony." 211 on'. at Acosta. There's a tight little grin on his face, like

"No 0% here."

I bad up with a few leading questions. @I Suppose," I say, "that you share a lot of work experiences Your husband, that he tells you about arrests that he makes, appearances in court or court‐martials?" ZZ' she says. Suppose, if you were to see a young, good‐looking police 100Z‐11

maybe in uniform, appearing here in this trial, you might to think about your husband?" might," she says. Acosta's head is rolling slowly on his shoulders, like ""N' the ropes, close to a decision. "And if that same police officer were to testify, You okzi pleasant thoughts of your husband?"

She shrugs and says, "Maybe. "Your Honor‐' "All right, Mr. Madriani, you don't have to, put 'em together." Acosta shuffles a few papers on his desk. that, point anyway," he says, "to pass upon cause for III' Any nominees, Mr. Madriani?"

"Mrs. Jackson," I say. "Mrs. Jackson, you're excused," he says, "for cause." I She gives me a dirty look as she pulls out of the box. p 3re tl , Nelson and I ass on the rest for cause. We il;IT Jackson's seat is quickly filled, by another woman, a Ps" from down near the delta. Nelson bums another peremptory, a young man in row. He was good for our side, articulate. This guy have to fantasize far to see Talia in his arms. The clerk brings up one more, an old man, wwh'w,.Nelson's now down to his last peremptory. We are I to our jury. I start on the old man. His age is an obvious I would not venture a guess. Nelson is immediately jury list. "Mr. Kauffman," I say. He squints at me from behind Coke‐bottle lenses :w‐, head, in hopes that my words may run louder ire M,better ear. He appears to have made out his name. P Meeks is whipping through paper for Kauffman ,s at the prosecution table. When he finds it, he's all i*, block at the top, listing date of birth. There are exchanged with Nelson, like

"Maybe this guy was a for the Confederacy."

This presents a real problem for the prosecution, juror, a venireman who may not be up to the 1*11 gymnastics of jury service for reasons of age.

I not bias but indecision, the risk of having to try P7 months of lost work, a small fortune in squandered 7 Nelson may look to Acosta for a little but the Coconut knows older people vote. More to have time to organize for all forms of political V@ 1@'o I : come to court to watch in droves. In this county criminal sessions have replaced the soaps in terms of audience share. The little shuttle bus that stops in front of the courthouse hourly deposits an army of gray‐haired citizens, all marching toward the latest drama in superior court. They are waiting outside in the hall for pry selection to end. The politic judge knows this, ‐,Mr. Kauffman, can you hear me?" I say. ‐10h yes, I can hear."

‐,Do you know anything about this case, sir?"

"No." ,Do you see the defendant sitting here?" He cranes his neck a little to look, to take in all of Talia, not puficularly impressed by what he sees. "Have you ever heard of the defendant, read anything about

"No," Sees lightning and hears thunder, I think. ‐that's all, Your Honor." I take my seat and leave this problem t . Kauffman, I know that you heard the judge talk earlier ‐.7, the likely duration of this trial.

Do you really think you up to the day‐to‐day demands of being here, listening to long lit@ of testimony?" 1 :1W 11W oil

"I say ..." Nelson's

turning toward the table to look at Meeks. ‐vi@ mind" '@7@"Pvoi returns to the counsel table and looks at a pad where @,A,Jotted some notes.

Kauffman, do you have any health problems, matters to require you to see a physician on a regular basis?" his age this is a good bet. ,?."q [;@

cons6ation " he says

"Gives me pills for it." '*77rs the last ti@the you were hospitalized, Mr. Kauffman?" sets the juror thinking, his eyes looking up, taking in all to little panels on the ceiling. A good minute goes by he counts on his fingers. nineth e e‐e‐e‐n.. Afty‐six. No, no,"

he says. "Mighta Hemorrhoids." r re sure?" says Nelson. Yeah, hemorrhoids, real painful," says Kauffman. @t‐ s laughter in the audience. ‐,io@ I mean the year." yeah, about then." ad oil the table,

‐Iml 110 son p to his little p Nel paes back iead I anyone, sir. 11130

y,)" live witt thing otto do with any stion. him a little c ding tul .

11 he says. This Is ` for Seniors, shor, of a *)LWU* "Pioneer Home one stop . the center of the city, high rise in cooking but aren't quite hospital, for those Who need .1'. C onfinement.. up to coming here 4 t

"Sir do you really think You're to detailed 9i 11" Vs nossibly month" to listen" pie o and now it Nau I ook is the expr , Kauffman's 1 eriatric POP'I'sm‐ he says. buying Nelson's 9 .tians to the lions"' "They used to feed Chris make it right. 11 Irtroom, a little applause I t@r in the co, t om2 1A olde, @s table, conferring ‐1 the retreats to in t, consider at what cost, cause,they have on the panel. seat. jurors Honor., Nelsork takes his ‐Mat's all, YOUR . Acosta looks at me. "Mr. Madriani, for cause to me, YOUR Honor.'@ "This juror is acceptable 269 ,auffman and smile. I would wave, but other jurors might think it improper. It's a calculated risk, the assumption Nelson can't live with Kauffman. ‐,Mr.

Nelson?"

"your Honor, we would move that Mr. Kauffman be excused for cause. "Not that I've heard," says Acosta. ,Your Honor, it's obvious that this trial is likely to go on for weeks. It's going to be extremely rigorous."

"And I hope you're up to it, Mr. Nelson."

There's more laughter fro@m the audience. "Fine, Your Honor."

Nelson's not interested in being the butt IT, political pandering. He takes his seat. The judge looks at me again. "Peremptories. "ANO, Your Honor."

"Mr. Nelson." Nelson's in conference with Meeks. It seems they do not agree. "j, .6, he tears himself away. "Your Honor, the people would like to thank Mr. Kauffman 77. excuse him."

"Mr. Kauffman, you're excused."

The panel is staring at Nelson like some tyrannical first mate as just tossed the oldest and most infirm at. h from the lifebo s looking around like he's not sure what this means. juror whispers in his good ear. I have to leave, judget' @"Yes, Mr. Kauffman, I think so. Maybe you could help him Acosta's prodding his bailiff for a little help. The marshal two men on the panel get him around the railing and point the door.

9.',M0MP,r s seat is quickly filled, a tall man, well proportioned, TIM(

cardigan and tan slacks. s still moving, shuffling like flotsam and jetsam '771 the door, while other jurors talk to him from aisle seats audience, patting him on the arm, a folk hero. tiw on my feet at the jury railing, starting on the cardigan ip@'@Jf4 say, "you'll have to excuse me, but I don't have the list. Could you give me your name?"

@;‐X,: Rath," he says. is bald as a cue ball, with a slender, intelligent face and 1121" wrinkles of thought across the forehead. "Can you tell us a little about yourself? What type you do?"

"Retired," he says. I'm wandering nex the jury box. Harry has the list juror questionnaires, so I'm blind as to Rath's backgro

"What kind of

work did you do?"

"Military," he says. "I'm retired from the Air Force."

I get bad feelings in my bones. This kind face, I deceptive. Rath's not volunteering anything. Nelson's pulled tionnaire from Meeks and is looking at it. He drops and lifts his gaze to the judge, round‐eyed, like there, concern here. "Tell us about the kind of work you did in the mili you retired."

"JAG," he says. "Excuse met' "I was part of the judge advocate general's office, lawyer," he says. I turn and look at him. There's a kind of confide expression on his face, like he knows he has coldcoc

"What type

of legal work did you do in the military.. "When you're there for twenty‐seven years, you do a everything," he says. "But the last tert years I represen under the uniform code of military justice. Your co the public defender," he says. "Area defense counsel."

He smiles at me, broad, benign, a brother in the cl I glance at Nelson.

He's putting a face on it, corn interested, unwilling to poison the other jurors with venom. But I know that in his gut he is churning, like on the Love Boat. I try to match his composure, But there are Ii jumping, erupting, crawling all over inside of nmwe. lawyer on the panel and the people out of peremptori Nelson's not exactly screaming, but it's the closest irai seen by a lawyer at a judge in my recent memory.

Ac this in chambers, with the door closed. This time the is with us.

"You can't allow him to sit." This sounds like an Nelson. He's pacing in front of the judge's desk, his the air. ‐‐If it doesn't violate the letter of the law, it certainly violates ,e spirit. The policy's clear,"

says Nelson. "The courts would ver condone a lawyer exercising that kind of influence, dictating Dsults to a jury of lay people behind closed doors. I can't believe ,it you would want that." ,"It's not what I want or what the courts want, Mr. Nelson. It's qmt the law demands." For decades the statutes of this state had disqualified any lawyer jury duty. Conventional wisdom held they would poison the ‐ininded justice dispensed by average citizens, dominate other . The organized bar went along with this, more interested standing in front of the jury railing and being paid than sitting ,nd it. For forty years everyone was happy with this arranget, Then a few years ago a lawyer‐baiting legislator looking headlines noticed these exemptions buried in the codes and foul.

Reasoning that lawyers owed a civic duty to jury ce, just like everybody else, he cowed the bar into silence, aged to suppress all rational thought on the subject, hustled bill through the legislature, and promptly died. It was, it is his sole act of note in an otherwise undistinguished and legislative career. Lawyers on both sides of the railing have taking his name in vain since. J wade into the argument, trying to take some of the heat off ta. wonder if the people would be here complaining, Your , if Mr. Rath was a former prosecutor," I say.

"No " says Nelson, "we wouldn't have to, you'd have already ;d him with a peremptory." 8 the hardest thing a lawyer has to do, argue with fundamenoth. prosecution has leveled an assault on the juror Rath that shame a Roman legion, all in an effort to excuse him for He has dodged each of these with the guile of a magician. I think, is a retired man, younger but like Kauffman, with time on his bands, a man whose heart pines for a return to Wartroom. n turns on Acosta and makes an impassioned plea for Peremptory challenges. Now he's going for the soft under‐.If the court can't change the law to exclude Mr. Rath, it can Be its discretion to grant the extra peremptories, he says. The die court talked about earlier. object. Absolutely not, Your Honor. The court's ruling on defense motion for : CHAPTER P" .1. 1 no such motion."

I tell Acosta that any additional percmptones given o ‐@;wficial ‐‐1; Of the state woul defendant. unds of 1@ Acosta can hear little bells tinkling, the 50 11 ‐ "M *)f 1 "Besides," I say, ,it's time to nrusu w to the UW.11 Expedition, getting on with it, the ir110‐Ti order of every judge. "You'd put your mother on ‐sure," says Nelson..,r ir "4@A to take her off."

I The answer is written in the prosec: son a

"This is a little dranla

now, ..UA‐‐Al the court how he was kicked on uns one, The judge is heading for the door, Nelson two him. Ufh@n everything else just this to Nelson, up close in his ear. %71 If equity." I say . "a, Of mock grousing. at this. It's good to Iv7‐.N He smiles, spares a laugil 4 sen of humor. "The law's the law. You and I unaware that we've Nelson"

Acos&s grumbling' ‐601k He,s blaming the law, unhappy that he irit in. I

;. him 6 my warm Of But for the moment he has Robert Rath, my alpha factor. LL in all, things have gone, well, far better than we had any Epti, to expect. I know that there will be darker days to come, 6) the moment we revel in our good fortune. LV is glowing over the jury. I burned the last peremptory i,@ older woman, and we came away with a panel of eight men 46111 women. The two alternates, in case of illness, death, or 71 ;Mil@ are both men. w" four women are, from appearances, all solid, stable types, (. who if the strings are played right should harbor no undue *i@,= Talia. is nothing more prone to error than forecasts of what a jury may do. But at this moment, I would stake my life that f twenty minutes of the time they retire to the jury room for

‐ Robert Rath will be anointed jury foreman. Though !4"WMITO hang back, a Jeffersonian kind of lawyer to whom is golden, Rath is smart, intuitive. He has the kind of @2(qail;, others can smell. ‐NO01 is all dapper this morning an expensive charcoal suit 17'1% cuffs, a pound of goly at each wrist. He will be his opening argument to the jury today, and impressions here I can see him across the room, a counter‐image of caught up in an aura of excitement, as if bathed in the spotlights.