Mercy (54 page)

"I'm trying to get a feel for the courtroom without the noise. You know, is it a positive place or a negative one."

Jamie swung one leg over the separating railing. "I guess that depends on if you're the prosecutor or the defendant."

"So," Ellen said, laying a hand on his knee. "What are you going to do when t his is all over?"

She looked up at him with such fierce expectation that Jamie almost laughed.

"I'm going to Disney World!" he crowed, spinning over the railing to land b eside Ellen. Then he sank into the seat next to her and rubbed his eyes. "I don't know," he said. "I really don't know." Jodi Picoult

"Well, what would you like to do?"

He considered this. He didn't want to work; he didn't think he'd be able t o program computers very well when he couldn't even master his own mind. H

e didn't much feel like going back to Cum-mington either. The point of kil ling Maggie in Wheelock was so that he wouldn't attach the memories to the ir hometown; funny how at the time he had actually thought he'd be able to outrun them.

"I'd like to drive through all fifty states," he said, surprising himself. "O

r maybe move to the West Coast and get a fresh start." He found himself listi ng one idea after another, the images tumbling out of him. Ellen put a hand o n his shoulder.

Jamie spoke for over an hour, his eyes straight ahead, Ellen beside him. As the pictures developed in his mind, they were more and more real, until he could truly see himself hiking through the Black Hills and taming lions an d bowling a perfect 300. He blew his future farther and farther out of prop ortion. He never considered how much he began to sound like a child, who bu ilt foundations on the hopes of being the president, an actor, or a famous quarterback, and who stubbornly refused to believe it wouldn't come true. On Sunday night Graham called Jamie at Angus's house. Jamie had been read ing the paper on the living room floor. "Hello?" Graham cleared his throat before saying anything. "How are you doing?"

"Good. What's up?" Jamie grinned. "Did they declare a mistrial?"

"In my dreams." Graham hesitated. "Jamie, there's not an easy way to say this

, but I don't know if you've thought it out for yourself." Jamie felt the walls caving in around him. He lay down on his stomach, his chin propped on the floor. "What?"

"Don't bring your car on Monday. I'll give you a ride." Jamie closed his eyes and hung up the phone.

On Monday, the courtroom was packed. The reporters who had been present for the past two weeks seemed to have spawned another fifty of themselve s, so they spilled from the rows into standing-room-only at the back. So me Wheelock residents were

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there, some Cummington families. There was a space by the door where the armed guards would soon stand.

Graham stood and adjusted his tie. He had dressed in an olive suit today, li ke Jamie's, a silent show of support. He wondered if any of the jurors would notice. At nine-thirty, he began to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said,

"you have been listening to a love story. A star-crossed one at that, but s till a love story. This case is about a woman named Maggie, who fell for a m an named Jamie, and both were supposed to live happily ever after." He turned around and stared at Jamie. "But that didn't happen. Unfortunately, this story is about a love that didn't last, because of the physical destruc tion of Maggie and the psychological destruction of Jamie.

"The law is not only about right and wrong. It also makes a distinction bet ween people who are bad, and people who are sick. That's why you've heard f rom several psychiatric professionals during this trial. In this case, the State's psychologist offered a judgment on Jamie's mental state based on ei ghteen minutes. Eighteen minutes. He concluded whether or not a man was cap able of taking someone else's life and knowing the consequences in less tim e than it takes me to shower in the morning."

Juror Number 6 smiled.

"The State's psychologist did not talk at length to Jamie about the person he loved most in this world, more than himself. He did not talk to Jamie about her illness, about her chances for recovery, about the strain that the absenc e of hope had placed on them. And still he thinks he can offer an expert opin ion."

Graham crossed to the jury. "We know that when a bone is placed under too mu ch strain, it will break. So will the mind. You have heard testimony that at the time of his wife's death, Jamie was not able to think clearly, to consi der a statement she'd made and to judge it rationally.

"You've heard proof that at his wife's funeral, Jamie was overwhelmed with grief. Is this the way a murderer would act? You've heard how Maggie and Jamie spent their last few days alone. Would a man callous enough to plan a murder take his wife to watch the sunrise in the Berkshires, make love t o her repeatedly, take her out to dinner and dancing? You've heard proof f rom Mag-Jodi Picoult

gie's best friend that Maggie was going to ask Jamie to kill her, and this w oman, Maggie's best friend, does not harbor any grudge against Jamie. Even t he police chief who arrested him admitted that Jamie's case could not be con sidered plainly in black or white."

Graham scanned the faces of the jury. They weren't giving anything away. "Y

ou know," he said softly, "I understand what makes you nervous. It's unsett ling to hear about a man who loved his wife so much that he'd be capable of doing this. It makes us all feel a little guilty, because we probably woul dn't go to such an extreme. Admitting that Jamie had the courage to do such a thing also forces us to admit that we wouldn't. That we don't have the s ame kind of strength, or the same depth of emotion for our husbands and wiv es and lovers.

"It's very strange to talk about love at a trial like this. More often, you h ear about hate. Hate drove him to take out a rifle and gun down all the peopl e on the Long Island Railroad. Hate drove him to set a bomb in a London pub. It's clearly believable to us that hate can spur a person to action. Why not love?

"After all, if hate can steal our sanity, so can love. Love can rob a person o f his power of reason. We've heard it all before: Oh, what can you expect from him, he's in love. Or, hove is blind. Or, hove conquers all. Think of the str ength we attribute to love in our cliches. Is there any doubt that we're vulne rable to it?"

Graham walked back toward his client, so that when the jury followed him wit h their eyes they'd see Jamie as well. "If I had a way to enter love into th e evidence like the arrest report, I would have. But that isn't an option. W

hat I ask you to keep in mind is this: Jamie is a big man. Six foot four, an d in good physical condition. He's strong. But he couldn't defend himself ag ainst love. It worked its way past his judgment, past what he'd been brought up to consider right and wrong, through the heavy burden of stress he'd bee n suffering with for months. If Jamie committed a crime, it was that he love d his wife too much. But is that something for which he should be punished?" Graham sat down. It was 9:52.

A

udra Campbell faced Jamie. "If we could have made Maggie MacDonald hale and healthy again, I'm sure every one of us

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would have wanted to." She turned to the jury. "There has been so much grief and sympathy in this courtroom over the past two weeks that it's easy to le t your heart get carried away in the flow and to forget the real issues. Wha t this case has to be decided on, however, is not emotional but fact. And wh en you clear away all the pathos, what's left is the evidence." She began to pace in front of the jury box, making eye contact with one jur or or another from time to time. "Mr. MacDonald has no criminal record. He is well-spoken and intelligent and he's been a good American citizen. Mr. M

acPhee would have you believe that because of these things, his client shou ldn't have to be judged within the framework of the criminal system. Howeve r, the law does not say that if you've lived an exemplary life up to that p oint, you can go over the edge and break the rules just once and get away w ith it."

She paused with her hand in front of the juror with the red hair. "When you sift through all the extenuating circumstances that Mr. MacPhee has brought into this courtroom, you'll find that the evidence is still there, clear and indisputable. On September 19, 1995, after a period of planning and deliber ation, Mr. MacDonald took the law into his own hands and killed his wife." Audra paused for effect. A juror to her right coughed into his hand. Graham watched the jurors look at Audra, into their laps, at Jamie. He could no l onger guess what they thought of Audra or himself. "I'm sure everyone in th is courtroom has watched someone close to them suffer. It may have been for a shorter period of time than Maggie MacDonald's illness; it may have been longer. I'm sure you have all experienced some degree of stress in this so rt of situation. But none of you broke the law.

"I hope you will remember this when you look at the facts. The facts, not t he emotions and the grief and the horror. Because although these things hav e a place, they must be considered separate from the evidence, and the evid ence can lead to nothing but a conviction. "

She sat down, and beside Graham, Jamie let out the long breath he'd been ho lding.

o

wUle-O

T^esponsibility makes a man taller. Women too. A. Jamie scanned the faces of the jury as they listened to Judge Roarke's final instructions before t hey disappeared to deliberate the case. Every one of them--even the wizene d old guy who looked like a turtle and the round-shouldered woman with the bad dye job--seemed to have grown three inches. Every one of them had his or her attention fixed on the judge's booming voice; and like chrysalises emerging from their spun shells, Jamie realized, the men and women sittin g before him were not at all the same men and women he thought he had come to know and understand over the past two weeks.

Not a single juror looked at him. He wondered if this was done out of guil t, or revulsion, or simply because they did not want to give anything away

. He wondered how many of the twelve already knew the way they would vote, how many of them felt that retiring for discussion was nothing but a tech nicality.

Judge Juno Roarke thanked them for their time and patience during the trial. Then he cleared his throat, moving his eyes down the line of men and women as he outlined their duties to the court. "In this state," he said, "the cri me of murder in the first degree is defined as murder with malice aforethoug ht." He paused, let it

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sink in. "In order to reach this verdict, the prosecution must have proved th at the defendant's act was premeditated, willful, and deliberate. The prosecu tion has the legal burden to prove that the defendant exhibited all of these characteristics, beyond a reasonable doubt." The judge explained in detail th e meaning of the legal term. "If, after you have heard all of the evidence an d applied it to the directions and rules of law on which I've instructed you, you have a reasonable doubt that the defendant is guilty of the offense with which he is charged, then you must acquit him of that charge. If, on the oth er hand, you are satisfied that guilt has been proved and no such reasonable doubt remains, your verdict must be guilty." He took a deep breath. "Alternat ely, if that charge doesn't seem to fit, you might find the defendant guilty of the lesser included offense of manslaughter in the first degree, which is defined as intentionally causing the death of a person while acting under ext reme emotional disturbance."

Graham turned to Jamie and smiled. It looked forced.

"Now," Judge Roarke explained, "the defense claims that the defendant should be excused from conviction by reason of insanity at the time this act was c ommitted. The legal definition of insanity means that at the time, the defen dant did not understand the nature and the quality of his act." Jamie saw one of the jurors, the artist he had thought to be on his side, nod ding in agreement.

"If you find this to be the case," Roarke continued, "you also need to deci de if the defendant understands the nature and quality of his acts today." He bobbed his head, as if he was satisfied with himself. "There must be una nimity in your decision. If you have any questions about the law or about y our duties, if you need testimony reread or want to see the evidence again, please contact the clerk, and perhaps I'll be able to help you." He picked a piece of paper off the desk before him. "When you come to your decision, this ballot will help clarify your answers." He smiled benevolently at the jurors, as if they had already done something very, very good. "This is th e most important part of the trial, ladies and gentlemen. I urge you to rem ember your sworn duty." He furrowed his brow for a moment. "You can give yo ur lunch orders to the clerk on your way down the hall. Thank you." 391

Jamie watched the jurors slip through the side door like a string of matche d beads. He put his head down on the defense table and closed his eyes. He stayed that way for a long time, until all the buzzing reporters had left t he courtroom and Allie had given up trying to get him to answer her and the spectator rows were empty. Then Graham put a hand on his shoulder. "We're going for a walk," he said.

STATE V. James MACDONALD

INDICTMENT NO. 1098-96 ( ) 1. We find the defendant GUILTY

of murder in the first degree. ( ) 2. We find the defendant NOT GUILTY

of murder in the first degree. ( ) 3. We find the defendant GUILTY of manslaughter in the first degree. ( ) 4. We find the defendant NOT GUILTY

of

manslaughter in the first degree. ( ) 5. If you have found the defendant NOT

GUILTY of murder, did you find him

NOT GUILTY by reason of insanity

at the time of the offense? ( ) 6. If you have answered YES to No. 5: Does this insanity continue?

had started to walk outside with Jamie, but there were so many reporters smok ing and jawing on the front steps that he realized it would be like throwing him into a lion's den. "Let's try up here," he said, dragging Jamie up two fl ights of stairs to the offices in the Pittsfield Superior Court. He hated this part of the trial. Now he could do nothing, absolutely nothing