Marine One (24 page)

The judge had required everyone in the jury pool fill out a questionnaire. The jurors were identified by number. We had copies of all the questionnaires and had stayed up late the night before going over them. Rachel and I had huddled together in my office to make a list of those we planned to challenge for cause depending on who from the larger group ended up in the actual jury box. You don't know that until the clerk calls out the numbers randomly selected from the larger group.

My final list was given to Braden and Lynn Carpenter, two of our contract attorneys, in the morning so they could compare our thoughts to their own. WorldCopter had also insisted we use and at least "include in our decision process." The consultant was sitting in the audience looking like any other observer. If we had time to talk, we'd compare notes, but if not, the consultant would send me a "Must Strike!" list by BlackBerry. It made it a little more challenging, but I refused to have a jury consultant sit at counsel table during voir dire the way some lawyers did. It's the kiss of death with a jury, in my opinion. It was like bringing a psychologist with you on a first date.

Judge Betancourt motioned to the clerk and said, "Call the first twenty-four." Judges selected juries differently, but this judge had decided to bring twenty-four people up, twelve into the box, and twelve outside the box, for initial questioning. This would allow us to question them together and know who was coming next if someone inside the box was stricken. In addition to trying to remove somebody for admitted bias, we were each entitled to three peremptory challenges, where we could strike a juror without any explanation at all. I watched as the clerk called each person by juror number, each of whom was then told exactly where to sit, from seat number one, whose occupant would become juror number one if sworn in, through juror number twelve, and then four alternates. Federal court, of course, has no alternate jurors. The requirement is a minimum of six jurors in a civil trial, with no fewer without a stipulation by all parties. Judge Betancourt had told us she intended to seat twelve because it was going to be a long trial. Fine with me. I'd have preferred fifty. Hackett had to convince
all
of them; he needed a unanimous jury to win in federal court.

The clerk called out the numbers. The twelve in the box were a diverse group of old and young, men and women, black, Hispanic, and white. It was a cross section of America. I liked the looks on their faces. They were intelligent, and ready. One of the concerns, one of the things I was watching for, was eagerness. People really wanted to sit on this jury. They would be able to tell their grandchildren about this trial. Some were probably thinking they could cash in on this experience somehow. They'd be interviewed by innumerable television shows like a cat with a new toy. But they wouldn't know they were the toy. They'd get their fifteen minutes of fame, then the interest of the world would turn to the next question or crisis. If you were able to discern who those people were, it would be best to ask them to leave, especially on my side of the case. Because what kind of book would be most likely to sell? One about a defense verdict saying the French company did nothing wrong, or the first trillion-dollar verdict in the first presidential wrongful-death case that found a foreign corporation killed the president?

The judge began the voir dire herself by asking questions that had been agreed upon before the trial by the parties. The prospective jurors were asked whether they knew any of the attorneys. Many knew
of
Hackett, but nobody knew him. They were asked about their knowledge of the case from the press and whether they had formed an opinion based on the press reporting. No, no. No one had, they all assured the judge. They were asked about their understanding of helicopters, the safety of helicopters, the safety of flying, foreign corporations, foreign manufacturing of goods destined for the American military, and their ability to be fair to a foreign corporation. All the usual kinds of questions that any high school student would know to ask when trying to find out whether a juror was biased.

The prospective jurors assured everybody in the room that they were certainly not biased against either party and would absolutely give a fair hearing if allowed to serve. Most of the jurors were nearly gleeful. The press hung on every word, although they knew the jurors only by number. The judge didn't want the press doing background investigations on every juror to try to figure out how they might vote or digging up dirt on them to throw the trial into disarray. They were to be known by numbers only until the conclusion of the trial or they were dismissed from the jury pool.

After the judge completed her preliminary questioning, she looked at Hackett. "Mr. Hackett, you may examine the jury."

HACKETT BEGAN WITH flare. He would select a juror by number, all of which he had memorized. He followed up gently on several of the questions that had been asked by the judge, then picked one woman, juror number six, the last person in the top row to the left, and asked her questions that were obviously aimed not only at her but at everybody in the jury pool.

He glanced around the entire room, even looking at the remaining jurors sitting in the gallery, to make sure everyone was listening. He wanted them to know that he was going to ask them all essentially the same questions. He began with his voice so low that the room grew even quieter as everyone strained to hear him. "Good morning, ma'am. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to consider sitting on this jury panel."

She smiled. "I didn't really have much choice. They sent me a subpoena." This caused a great deal of laughter in the courtroom and broke the tension.

"Well, thank you for being here anyway. I know it's a burden. You've already told the judge that you can be here for the three weeks that this trial is expected to take. Are you willing to pay close attention to the evidence for that entire time?"

"Of course."

"There's going to be some evidence that will be quite gruesome. Pictures of dead bodies, discussion of the manner of death. Are you prepared to listen to that evidence?"

"Well, I don't look forward to it, but, yes, I can hear it and understand it."

"You understand that I am here representing the first lady, or I should say the former first lady, Mrs. Adams. The wife of former president Adams."

"Yes, of course."

"And do you also understand that I, with my colleagues, am also representing the families of the other people who were killed in this incident? Including Mrs. Collins?" He pointed to her. "And Mrs. Rudd, the wife of the copilot?"

"Yes."

"Can you give each of them a fair trial? Because their damages will be different. The president's damages, the value that you will be asked to place on his life, could be enormous. It might be argued by the other side that the damages for a combat-veteran, Marine Corps sergeant who was the crew chief would be less, but can you give him as fair a hearing? Can you give his family as fair a trial as you would give the first lady or former first lady?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

Hackett paced momentarily, forcing everyone's attention back on him. He had noted a distraction, a noise outside that sounded like a commotion or a confrontation. He let that noise die down without being obvious about it. People then returned their attention to him from the windows. He told them he was going to ask for a
lot
of money. He wanted to make sure they didn't have some conscientious objection to awarding piles of money.

He asked a black man with silver-rimmed glasses in the back row, "Can you give WorldCopter a fair trial? Because I don't know what evidence they're going to put on." Hackett turned toward me and then back to the jury. "I don't know if they have any evidence, but I just want you to be open-minded if they do produce evidence that you think is relevant. I want you to consider it, even if you're completely persuaded at the conclusion of my case. Can you do that?"

I wanted to throw something at him. After a few more questions it was finally my turn. I asked a few innocuous questions, particularly of those jurors who'd indicated they had family members in law practice or that had worked in law firms. I questioned all the jurors for five minutes or so each and tried to emphasize that this was a complex case, that it would require the testimony of experts in metallurgy, piloting, and mechanical engineering, and that if they had formed a conclusion before they heard all the evidence-before they heard all my experts-they would then have to persuade themselves that they had been wrong. I told them people didn't like to be wrong, and if I had to persuade them that an earlier conclusion they had reached was wrong, it made the entire process unfair for my client. They had to not form that conclusion until the end of the evidence, until the closing arguments were done, and the judge had instructed them on the law. While they were all agreeable instantly to that concept, I knew that none of them would follow it. Jurors usually pick sides at the conclusion of opening arguments, and most stuck to those decisions right through to the jury verdict.

I finished just as the clock moved to noon, and the judge announced our ninety-minute lunch break. Justin had saved a table for our team in the cafeteria on the second floor, where I compared notes with our jury consultant, who'd been sitting in the first row, Rachel, Braden, Justin, the general counsels for both WorldCopters, and of course Kathryn with Mark Brightman, who was sitting in the audience in his expensive suit trying to look indispensable.

As usual, the jury consultant tried to tell me which jurors to challenge, but frankly, I was content with the entire panel. I'd take them just as they were, but of course Hackett wouldn't. He'd try to strike some for cause, then use some of his peremptory challenges, and we'd have new jurors to question. So I made my list of the jurors Hackett was most likely to strike, and the ones I would strike in order if he started. Our jury consultant was unhappy with my list and tried to tell WorldCopter that I was making a mistake, but he was getting a deaf ear from everybody.

When court reconvened at one thirty, the jurors sat in their chairs anxiously, the gallery was in its place, and the attorneys were at the counsel tables. The clerk announced the judge, everybody sat, and the judge asked me if I had any additional questions to ask the jury.

"No, Your Honor."

"Very well then-"

Hackett stood. "Your Honor, if I might. I am informed that my clients are waiting outside, and I'd like the court to wait one moment before we begin our challenges, such as they might be."

The judge nodded. "Hurry it up, Mr. Hackett."

Hackett turned toward the aisle as the back door of the courtroom opened and the first lady and the other five widows walked in. They were quite a sight. The first lady was of course impeccably dressed and looked as if she could be president. She was dignified and confident in her walk, but not such a fast walk as to be disrespectful to President Adams or the court. The other widows followed behind, dressed very differently but all perfectly for who they were. I was ready to bet a lot of money that Hackett had hired a fashion consultant.

They made their way to the front row and sat next to Mrs. Collins, except for the first lady, who made her way through the gate and sat next to Hackett. The Secret Service agents that had accompanied her sat in the front row directly behind her. Nothing like having your client make a grand entrance accompanied by an armed guard just before the conclusion of jury selection.

Hackett nodded to the judge.

"Are you ready to proceed, Mr. Hackett?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Mr. Nolan?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Mr. Hackett, any challenges for cause?"

"No, Your Honor."

"Mr. Nolan?"

"No, Your Honor."

"Mr. Hackett, your first peremptory."

Hackett stood. "Your Honor, plaintiff accepts the jury as impaneled."

I looked up in complete shock. I turned around to look at the jury consultant, who encouraged me with an immediate clenched face to challenge the first person I had listed on my notepad. I glanced down at the notepad, then over at Rachel, who was frozen. I looked up at the judge. "Your Honor, defendants accept the jury as impaneled."

The judge was surprised but pleased. "Will the jurors in the box please stand and be sworn?"

The jurors looked at each other and smiled with a pleased, surprised look, then stood. The clerk stood up, told them to raise their right hands, recited the oath, which they all repeated, and then they sat down. Several picked up the pads that had been on the floor next to their chairs, took out their pencils, and opened them to begin writing. The judge said to the rest of the jury panel, "Thank you very much for your willingness to sit on this jury. Your services will not be needed, and you may now return to the jury room."

They left the courtroom quickly, after which additional spectators were allowed to fill their vacant seats. The courtroom was once again full and humming. No one had expected the trial to get under way on its merits at one forty-five on the afternoon of the first day.

Judge Betancourt waited until there was quiet. Her face was so stern she didn't need to say anything to the newcomers. They knew that they were lucky, and that if they weren't quiet, they would be very unlucky very fast. When the room was completely silent, she said, "Mr. Hackett, your opening statement."

HACKETT STOOD, ADJUSTED his suit coat and cuff links, and said, "Thank you, Your Honor." He moved to the lectern and began without notes. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, as I told you earlier, my name is Tom Hackett." He paused and waited for each juror to look at him. "I'm here on behalf of Mrs. Adams, the former first lady, and the other wives who are now widows of those men killed when Marine One crashed on March seventeeth. I also represent their children. On the other side of this case is WorldCopter, a European consortium that is essentially a French corporation, and its American subsidiary. The evidence will be very clear, ladies and gentlemen. The reason that the president of the United States died, the reason all the men aboard that helicopter were killed, is because of WorldCopter.

"The president was on his way to Camp David for an extremely important meeting. It was so important that it is classified as top secret and we have not been allowed to learn the reason for that meeting. Even the first lady doesn't know the reason for the meeting." Hackett looked into the jurors' eyes. "But it was so important President Adams chose to take off late at night in the middle of a terrible thunderstorm to fly to Camp David.

"Was it safe for him to take off in the middle of that storm? Not only did he have what was supposed to be the strongest helicopter ever built, but he had perhaps the best pilot who ever flew a helicopter. What for you or me might be dangerous was well within the range of what was reasonable for this helicopter and this pilot.

"But that assumes the helicopter was built properly. The specifications had been approved by the Department of Defense to build the strongest helicopter ever made, one that could handle this storm. It was bought by the Marine Corps to be its primary helicopter for the next twenty years.

"But the evidence will be that this helicopter was
not
built to those specifications." Hackett stared at each juror. "How did this helicopter become Marine One, with all the protection for the president, and have a defect, a flaw, a problem so significant that it would cause the helicopter to crash? How did that
happen?

"It started back when WorldCopter submitted its bid to be selected to build the next Marine One. The evidence will show how they rigged the game so they would appear to the government to be an American corporation. How this European company entered into a joint venture with an American company to deceive everyone into believing that this could be called an American helicopter, because that was the requirement for building Marine One.

"They won the bid. They got the contract. But the Department of Defense required that those working on the helicopter, those building the parts for Marine One, get appropriate clearances. It was mandatory. No helicopter was to be used for Marine One at all unless everybody involved in the construction of that helicopter had the required clearance. And guess what? They didn't. Of the two hundred and fifty people who touched the parts that went onto this helicopter, forty-seven of them did not have their clearances. Forty-seven. And guess where three of those people worked? They worked in the room with the Golden Blade.

"So what is this Golden Blade?"

Hackett lowered his voice. "In Paris, France, there is a separate room in the factory where these helicopters are built. In that room is a blade that is never touched, and against which all other blades are balanced. They complete the balance of each new blade with small, washerlike pieces of metal-tip weights-that slide onto a bolt and are tightened down with a nut. Once the new blade balances, it is ready to go.

"So what caused Marine One to crash? The tip weights that were put on one of the blades came off. When the tip weights came off, the aircraft began vibrating and shaking and ultimately shook itself to death. The blade ultimately came off and the helicopter plummeted to the ground and burst into flames.

"Why did the tip weights come off? Because the three men who work in the room with the Golden Blade, the three men who put the tip weights on the blade that came off of Marine One, were three of the forty-seven that didn't have their clearance. But there must be records you might say.
Surely
there are records showing the balancing of this blade and that it matched the Golden Blade.

"There have to be. Right? If you're going to balance a blade that will be on Marine One, you're careful about the records, right? Wrong. We went to France and I asked to see the records that show the balancing process for the blade that was found on the ground next to Marine One where it crashed. I wanted to know the serial numbers on those tip weights. But the records are gone. And WorldCopter has no answer. They don't know if the records ever existed, if the record keeping was sloppy, if the records have been lost, or if somebody destroyed them after the crash of Marine One. WorldCopter is unable to answer that question. Isn't that curious?

"Ladies and gentlemen, the evidence will be that the brave men who were aboard that helicopter didn't die from the crash. They died from the burns. Imagine the suffering, imagine the pain of knowing that your helicopter is going down. One of the blades came through the fuel tank and covered the occupants with burning fuel. As the helicopter plummeted to the ground, the president and the other occupants were burning to death.

"The helicopter then slammed into the ground, destroying some of the evidence, but not so much that we couldn't figure out what happened. So you can know exactly what did happen, I'm going to play the cockpit voice recording after the helicopter took off from Washington, flew towards Maryland, and crashed. Unfortunately, the recording stops just before the impact. But I think you can feel, you can hear in the pilot's voice, that something was going wrong. It's the last recording we have of Colonel Collins. Let's listen." Hackett crossed to the digital recorder sitting on his counsel table with a court microphone bent down toward its small speaker and hit PLAY. The room filled with Collins's voice as everyone sat mesmerized. It was the first time anyone had heard the recording played outside the NTSB room. This had been one of my motions, to preclude the playing of the tape. Too emotionally charged. My motion had been rejected after Judge Betancourt heard the tape herself.

After the CVR recording was finished, Hackett turned off the recorder and continued quietly, "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is pretty simple. WorldCopter did not do background checks on its employees, and they didn't have the clearances that they were required to have in order to build Marine One. Yet, they assured the Department of Defense that they were in compliance. Then when building the rotor blade that killed the president and all aboard his helicopter, they can't even tell you that it was balanced, what tip weights were put on, how much weight was put on, or the serial numbers for those tip weights. Whatever they did, they did wrong. The tip weights came off. That is their fault, plainly. So what do they say? They can't tell you because they've lost the records, or they never existed, or they've been destroyed."

Hackett paced. "There is more to this than simple negligence on the part of WorldCopter. We have reckless disregard for the safety of others, particularly the president of the United States and his crew on Marine One. It might even be more than reckless. There could be malice here. We may even find intentional conduct. We'll have to see how this evidence comes in, but you listen carefully." He paused, glancing up and down the rows. "You listen to what these witnesses say. You wait and see who shows up to tell us what happened from WorldCopter."

Hackett took a deep breath. "At the end of this trial, I'm going to ask you to award a substantial amount of damages to my clients. And by damages, I mean money. It's the only thing we have that we can force WorldCopter to do. We can't bring back President Adams and put him back in charge of this country. We can't bring back my clients' husbands and fathers or take the pain of the fire away. But we can ask you to compensate them for the loss that WorldCopter has caused. There will be a lot of evidence over the economic value of these cases, as well as the losses suffered through their loss of consortium-sexual relations-the loss of care and comfort, the loss of society. Losing the relationship. These cases have enormous value. I will be asking you for damages in excess of one billion dollars." Several jurors frowned at the number. "So listen for the evidence which will support that, which you will see very clearly. Thank you very much for your attention, ladies and gentlemen. I will speak to you again at the conclusion of the evidence, in my closing argument, and I'll tell you what you need to do to award my clients what they're entitled to in your verdict."

Hackett sat down and the first lady put her hand on top of his hand in gratitude. It was very touching.

At that moment the judge looked at me and said, "Mr. Nolan, your opening."