The recorded 911 call cut out, and Geoff let the tension from the clip hang in the air before speaking.
“Those faces you just saw on the screen were thirteen innocent lives lost on March 11, 2016. The sound you heard was him.” He stepped back and pointed directly at Jeremy, who kept his gaze facing forward, in the judge’s direction.
“Those thirteen lives lost were mothers. Fathers. Sisters. Brothers. Friends. Grandchildren. Coworkers.”
Geoff paused for effect.
“Everyone goes through a point in their professional career where things don’t go their way. We get passed up for promotions. We get told one thing, and another thing happens. We get rejected for a raise after working so hard. We go through breakups, and gain and lose friends. This is normal. This is called life.
“What is not normal is to respond to these life events by bringing a semiautomatic weapon to the workplace and shooting every breathing person in sight. There’s no place for that in our society. We are a humane race. Killing is wrong. Opening fire on defenseless, innocent people is downright despicable. Anyone who thinks otherwise deserves to be removed from society.
“Over the last couple weeks, you’ve heard a lot of graphic testimony. Your lives will be forever changed by being on this trial. You’ve seen images and heard things that cannot easily be erased from the mind. Every single person you saw take the witness stand will also be affected forever by what that man did.
“You’ve heard a lot about mental health, especially in the past few days of this trial. It’s your due diligence to take mental health into consideration. I will never dismiss mental illness as a cause for bad actions; however, I also ask you to look at the big picture.
“That man over there felt as if the world were collapsing around him. In the months leading up to March 11, 2016, he lost a girlfriend in an ugly breakup, he was rejected not once, but twice for a promotion with his company. He had to work under a new manager who he felt was less qualified than himself. He was placed on probation by his company. He was turned down for a raise during his annual review, after having received generous raises every year prior.
“And while all this was happening, money started to disappear from his checking account. Cash was withdrawn. A semiautomatic rifle was purchased. Anger turned to rage. We’ll never know for sure why the money was withdrawn. We didn’t get to hear from the defendant directly. You are left to fill in those blanks.
“If something doesn’t make sense, then it’s probably not true. There are a lot of gaps in the story regarding his mental state of mind. There’s been two different possible mental illnesses presented: one that would excuse his actions, and one that deems him legally sane at the time of the shootings. Legally sane means that he knew exactly what he was doing on March 11, and knew it was wrong.
“A firearm was purchased, along with hundreds of rounds of ammunition. He bought them ahead of time, suggesting that this disturbing thought had been brewing in his mind and was not a spur of the moment decision.
“The office’s exit doors were barricaded with two-by-four pieces of wood. Every exit was locked except for the front doors that he entered through. This door was the furthest exit from the shooting, and I propose that he planned it this way on purpose. All of this points to some sort of planning. Were those two-by-fours just randomly convenient to him when he decided that morning he would shoot his coworkers in cold blood? I doubt it.
“You have thousands of pieces of evidence to go through. You have hard facts. Use these, along with your common sense, to decide what makes the most sense.
“Crimes of passion are done as a knee-jerk reaction. There’s no calculation that goes into a crime of passion or rage. If he had gone to his car and come back in with his assault rifle right after he was rejected for a promotion or raise, then we’d be having a different conversation. But that’s not what happened. This attack happened months after the rejected promotions, and weeks after the rejected raise. A travesty like this would have taken a long time to plan.
“When you deliberate, I want you to remember not only the lives lost, but also the thousands of lives affected by this horrific crime—a crime that was done with intent, and was calculated from beginning to end. Thank you.”
The courtroom remained silent as Geoff returned to his seat. He sat back and crossed his arms. There were no more notes to take, no more cross-examinations to make. He was done and the case was in the jury’s hands.
Jeremy stared across the aisle and wanted nothing more than to choke the blond motherfucker with his bare hands. The opening statements were tense, and Jeremy had been nervous at the time. Now, with the tension settled and having been in the same room with Geoff for more than two weeks straight, Jeremy felt no more nerves. He saw the justice system for the cat-and-mouse game it was, and the district attorney had played it as well as expected.
He didn’t like the way he’d pointed that scrawny finger at him, and certainly didn’t take kindly to the way he addressed him as that man. He might as well have called him that monster in the cheap suit.
But Jeremy also felt gratitude toward the D.A. He had just mentioned the thousands of lives affected by the shooting, and that was the point: affect lives, expose mental illness on the grandest stage possible, and change the world. Jeremy thought all the talk of schizotypal and bipolar disorders were utter bullshit. He had no mental illness. He didn’t enjoy shooting his coworkers (except for Shelly), and had no desire to do something like that again. All he wanted was justice for those poor souls, forever trapped in their own minds, shunned by society when all they want is some goddamn help.
Linda stood, and Jeremy could feel her confidence radiate like heat waves as she approached the podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, good afternoon.” She stood five feet in front of the jury box and had their complete attention.
“This has been a draining and emotional trial. Probably the hardest one I’ve worked on in my long career. I’m just as disturbed as you all by the images and testimony we’ve seen. The actions committed by my client are nothing short of disgusting.”
What the fuck is she doing?
“However, there’s a major problem here. My client is suffering from bipolar disorder. He was suffering before the shooting, during the shooting, and still is to this day. He currently is on medication to treat this disorder.
“I will not stand here and say that my client didn’t commit the crime. He did. He entered his office building with a semiautomatic firearm and shot thirty-five of his colleagues. However, that’s not what this trial is about.
“My client has been suffering from a mental disorder that none of us can relate to. Not myself, not Mr. Batchelor, not any of yourselves, for you wouldn’t be allowed to serve on a jury with such an illness.
“I want you to imagine having minimal control over your emotions. I want you to imagine having joy in life, then having it completely gone in a flash without knowing why. I want you to imagine your everyday struggles in life and how you would handle those without any sense of self-control.
“What do you normally do after a stressful day or week at work? Go home? Drink a beer and relax? Know that tomorrow is a new day and things can change?
“Mr. Heston used to do these things. He did them like you would. Then over time, like a cancer, this illness in his mind started to expand and slowly take full control.
“Mr. Heston was just like you. He liked to go out with his friends, celebrate with coworkers after a long week, go to sporting events with family. Slowly, the joy in those activities started to fade, and no one realized it. The life was sucked from him and those closest to him figured he was just settling into the typical grind of life.
“Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. In a time of dire need, Mr. Heston needed friends and family who simply weren’t there. He felt that he was in the most frightening position in life: alone.
“Mental illness is real. It’s not a ploy made up to try and get crimina
ls an easy way out. It’s very real—however, it’s not palpable like a broken arm. If you break an arm, everyone sees your cast and wants to sign it. They want to ask what happened. How long will you be in the cast?
“The problem with mental illness is that it cannot be seen. There’s no cast, no story to tell, just insufferable pain from a broken mind. Jeremy Heston tried to battle this alone, as no one could see his injury. A broken mind that no longer had a place to run acted out in violence. A broken mind had exhausted its options, with nowhere to turn. A broken mind that could have been treated if there were only a way to visibly see it.
“Mr. Heston had lost touch with reality. He still suffers from a mental disease that has been developing for years. When he walked into that office, the evidence is clear that he could not control his thoughts. He could not control his actions. He could not control his perceptions.
“Mr. Batchelor brought up the notion of holes in the story. I hope you were paying attention to the holes in his story. The ultimate sign of sanity in a case like this is premeditation. Did Mr. Heston premeditate this attack? Did he do any sort of planning? There is not a shred of evidence that suggests so. The question you need to ask yourself is: could this have been done on the spur of the moment?
“Mr. Heston purchased the firearm months before the attack, during a time of peace in his life. He enjoyed the sport of shooting, something he had done many times with his uncle. Mr. Batchelor claims the ammunition couldn’t have been purchased that morning, but nothing was ever proven about the time of purchase. There’s no paper trail to show a transaction. Those rounds could have been purchased the same day as the firearm. The two-by-fours in his car could have come from anywhere. They could’ve been in his car for months. It’s unfair and unjust to assume they were purchased with the intent of barricading his coworkers, without any proof of purchase. Your deliberation will be based on the facts, and there are no facts to support this claim of advance preparation.
“I ask all of you to be strong. The popular and easy verdict will be the guilty verdict, but please consider the big picture. A man is suffering from a serious mental illness and needs medical help. Acquitting him on the basis of his sanity will not be a popular decision, but that doesn’t mean it will be the wrong decision. History is at stake here and you can be on the right side of it. Don’t be afraid to go against the norm. Take mental health for the serious issue it truly is. Thank you.”
Noses sniffled and Jeremy swore he could hear his mom crying, but refused to look over his shoulder. He had the urge to stand and applaud Linda. She’d done it. She gave it her all and now he was in as good a position as possible.
Now he remembered Linda’s instructions to keep an eye on how the judge presented instructions to the jury. Even though judges had no say in the verdict, they still had an opinion, and the jury usually voted in the same manner as the judge. He could slant his instructions to favor one way or another.
“Thank you, Ms. Kennedy. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I will now instruct you on deliberations and how you should approach them,” Judge Zamora said. “Earlier I instructed you on the law and how it applies to the court proceedings. When you return to the deliberation room, your first task will be to appoint a foreperson to preside over the deliberations. The foreperson has no special privilege, their vote counts the same as everyone else’s; they are simply there to assure the deliberations are conducted in a quick and reasonable manner.
“As a reminder, you’re still forbidden from discussing this case outside of the jury room. You are not allowed to use technology to retrieve additional information, and can only use all of the evidence, which will be provided to you.
“During your deliberations, you are allowed to take breaks as you see fit. However, be aware that the case cannot be discussed unless all twelve of you are present. Please make sure the clerk knows of your whereabouts should you choose to leave the jury room. The clerk will also take your cell phones when you are in the jury room. When you have reached a verdict and signed the verdict form, you will call us and we will then gather the parties back to the courtroom to announce your verdict.
“Until your verdict is announced in open court, no juror is permitted to disclose to anyone the status of your deliberations or the nature of your verdict.
“Circumstances in the case may arouse sympathy for one party or the other. Sympathy is a common, human emotion. The law does not expect you to be free of such normal reactions. However, the law, and your oath as jurors, require that you not permit sympathy to influence your verdict.
“It is your duty to weigh the evidence, decide the disputed questions of fact, apply the instructions of law to your findings, and render your unanimous verdict accordingly. Your duty as jurors is to arrive at a fair and just verdict.
“Consult with one another in the jury room, and deliberate with a plan of reaching an agreement. Each of you must decide the case for yourself. You should do so, however, only after a discussion of the case with the other jurors. Do not hesitate to change your opinion if convinced that it is wrong. However, you should not surrender your opinion in order to be congenial or solely to reach a verdict.
“Are there any questions?”
The jurors shook their heads.
“Very well. You are excused to the jury room to begin deliberations for the final hour of the day.”
Judge Zamora banged his gavel and Jeremy felt destiny wrap its unforgiving fingers around his soul. The trial was over and his fate now officially rested in the hands of the jury.
33
Chapter 33
Monday, November 6, 2017
Cathleen Speidel knew what she had to do. The man who had approached her in early October remained vivid in her mind, and she couldn’t afford to take any chances.
She was the first to enter the deliberation room and she watched as the jurors settled in. The room had beige walls with a long, cherry-wood table at its center. White-cushioned swivel chairs awaited on each end, along with five others on each side of the table, to make a total of twelve. The only window in the room provided a stunning view of the Rocky Mountains, which had been hidden for most of the trial thanks to a nasty storm forming along the Front Range. Along the back wall was a lounge area, with a circle of four leather sofas, water and coffee machines, and a refrigerator stocked with snacks and lunch boxes brought by the jurors. A lone clock also hung on the wall, ticking away the seconds—the only means of telling time, since their phones had to be turned in before entering the deliberation room.
“I’ll volunteer as foreman,” Cathleen said from a middle seat when everyone took their places around the table. “Does anyone else have interest in doing it?”
The jurors looked around, shaking their heads.
“Sounds like it’s all yours,” a middle-age woman covered in jewelry said. “Be our guest.”
“Okay, then,” Cathleen said, grateful there was no objection. “Since we only have forty-five minutes left today, I think we should see where we are as a group so we can game plan for tomorrow. Let’s each put down what we think the verdict should be on a piece of paper. Don’t write your name on it, and put it in the center of the table when you’re done. Remember that we have three choices: guilty, not guilty, or not guilty by reason of insanity.”
Stay calm. This will be a process. Don’t be pushy.
Everyone grabbed a pen from the table and scribbled on their notepads, ripping off the sheet of paper and folding it into a small square to toss in the middle of the table.
After a couple minutes, when everyone had finished, she pulled the pile of papers toward herself, unfolding each and flattening them on the table. She tallied each vote on her notepad as she opened it.
“Wow,” she said as everyone watched in anticipation. “We’re evenly split. Six guilty, six not guilty by reason of insanity.”
She paused, her stomach churning. This is gonna be an uphill battle.
“Well, this is gonna be a long process,” A
aron Elliott said. Aaron was one of the three men on the jury, dressed in a fine suit every day in court.
“Does anyone want to share their thoughts on where they stand?” Cathleen asked. “It’s going to come out at some point, as we discuss the evidence and try to reach a unanimous verdict.”
Two jurors said they voted not guilty while three others favored of a guilty verdict. No one elaborated as to why they felt one way or another, and it didn’t spark the conversation Cathleen had hoped for.
“Does anyone else want to share right now?” Cathleen asked after a few seconds of silence. The remaining jurors who had not spoken remained silent.
A rapid knock came on the door and the deputy jury commissioner, Steve Linton, barged into the room with a line of suited people behind him. He had greeted the jurors every morning and kept their phones secured during the trial. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, and had a permanent expression that showed he was not there to take shit from anyone. His military buzz cut and thick-framed glasses sparked an immediate intimidation. Behind the harsh facade was a gentle and friendly soul that Cathleen thought all the jurors had come to like over their weeks together.
Steve used both arms to cradle a large box, and the handful of people behind him carried similar boxes.
“I have evidence for you good folks,” Steve said with a grin, dropping his box in front of Cathleen while the others placed theirs around the table. “There’s more coming, too. Feel free to organize all the evidence as needed. Nothing is in any particular order, we just packed things as best we could. At this point, this is your evidence—do with it as you wish, just make sure to return everything to its corresponding evidence bag.”
Steve and the others left the room and returned minutes later with another round of boxes.
The AR-15 used by Jeremy to commit the shooting stuck out of one of the boxes, shining under the lights, and they all stared at it in silence. A splatter of blood covered the barrel of the rifle.
The Burden (Insanity Series, Book 2) Page 15
