“Well put,” Norman roared.
I had spoken out of reflex, without really thinking that I was about to start a trial with this man and that the last thing I needed was to antagonize him.
“That’s good, very good,” Judge Grosso said without smiling. “Well, you all have a good day.” Grosso walked away, and Taylor followed him.
“Look at him, that little shrimp,” Darren said, still staring at Grosso. “They shouldn’t make anyone under five-six a judge.”
“I wish I’d tried a case against Grosso when he was still a prosecutor,” Norman said. “I’d have beaten his ass.”
“What do you mean when he was a prosecutor? He still acts like a prosecutor,” Darren said.
“What have you got going today, Michael?” John asked.
“I was supposed to have an insanity case, but it got postponed.”
“We have the Altman case. You’re still in on that one, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I guess so. Any chance of dismissing it?” I asked, trying not to sound too anxious.
“I already spoke to Grosso about throwing the case out.”
“Oh, really?” I was surprised John had not mentioned to me that he intended to speak to Grosso about a dismissal. It was clear to me now that John really didn’t want to try the case. “What did Grosso say?” I asked.
“Five bullets.”
“That’s what he said, ‘Five bullets’?”
“What he said was the first was self-defense, the second manslaughter. By the fifth, Grosso said, we’re talking first degree, premeditated murder.”
“First degree? You can’t be looking for first degree!”
“Michael, that’s what he said. He thinks the woman is taking us for fools.”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“I don’t know. I don’t think Grosso believes any women.”
“Great.”
“All I want is to move it quickly and get it over with. Grosso’s pushing for a quick date,” John said.
“Why? What’s the rush?”
“He thinks he’ll get some press with it,” John answered. “I can’t believe all the interviews I’ve turned down on this case.”
“What the hell does he need press for?”
“I think he wants to run for public office.”
“Really?”
“The rumors are governor.”
“Great. There should be a height requirement for governor,” I said.
Chapter 20
LATE THAT AFTERNOON I met Jenny at the luncheonette around the corner from my office. She had asked to see me, but wouldn’t tell me why. She was waiting at a table when I arrived, dressed in a smart brown silk business suit, her hair cut short and boyishly parted. All in all she looked on top of things, and very serious.
“Michael,” she said soon after I sat down, “you know I’ve never been critical of your relationship with Molly.”
I nodded. I knew what was coming.
“I know you love her more than anything in the world,” she said. “You’d kill for her, as you would say. And Lord knows, I have my own guilt about not spending enough time with her. But lately I gather you’ve not been coming home most nights, and, well…”
“Jen, you know I have this murder case. It’s coming to trial in the next few days,” I said. I had a vivid memory of the argument I’d had with Jenny soon after we’d separated. She had made clear to me that she wouldn’t try to work out a reconciliation, but was intent instead on a divorce. I couldn’t recall whose temper had exploded first. But I did remember Jenny calling me a self-centered little boy and me calling her a cold, castrating bitch. We’d had this “elevated discussion” in a cheap cafeteria surrounded mostly by homeless people in from the cold. I didn’t have the faintest recollection, as I now sat with Jenny in this luncheonette, how we had wound up in that cafeteria then, but I certainly remembered well how all the other patrons stared at us as we shouted at each other. I really didn’t want to let the present conversation get out of control.
“It’s not fair to Molly,” she said. “All of a sudden you’re gone. You’ve never done that before. It’s like changing the ground rules.”
“Molly seems fine.”
Jenny looked into my face intently. “You’re sleeping with that woman, aren’t you?”
I struggled to think of what to say, but before I could think of an answer, she stood up and left.
Chapter 21
I HELD OPEN THE door of the courtroom for Lisa. As we headed down the center aisle of the crowded room, I took a deep breath. I recognized a few of the ever-present fans from earlier trials sitting in their spectator seats. John Phalen was already seated at his end of counsel table, the side closest to the jury box.
“Mr. Roehmer,” Judge Grosso said, pointing at me as I was about to sit down.
“Good morning, Judge,” I said, and remained standing.
“You haven’t been in my court before, and I’d like to straighten out a few things at the outset so that we don’t have any problems.”
“You can sit down, Lisa,” I said, pointing to the chair next to me.
“I may be new to the bench but your reputation has preceded you. I want to make it clear that I’m not going to put up with any improper behavior,” Judge Grosso said, looking over at the newspaper reporters arrayed in the first row of the spectator seats. “Do you understand that?”
I placed my briefcase down on the table. “Judge, I’ve been trying cases for over twenty years, and one thing I’ve learned is that I shouldn’t engage in improper behavior. Lord knows, we all just try to do our job as best we can.” My first thought was that this little man in black robes must be out of his mind. The two court officers, the court clerk, and the judge’s law secretary were watching me.
“Well, you don’t need to get cute with me. I expect you to behave within the bounds of proper decorum. I’m just putting you on notice right up front about that.”
“I appreciate the notice, and I will certainly try to restrain the demons inside me,” I said, “as I’m sure you will try to do the same.” I didn’t have to add the last part, but it came out of my mouth before I could catch it.
“I can see we’re going to have trouble here. But I can tell you now that I’m not going to be the loser in any contest.”
“If Your Honor is going to get emotional about having me in his court, maybe you should excuse yourself from trying this case and transfer it to another judge.” I knew there was no way in hell he was going to let this trial slip away from him, not with this audience.
“I will not excuse myself. I was trying to get some guidelines straight. Let’s get on with the case.”
I sat down at counsel table. I felt like grabbing the judge’s greasy hair with both hands and smashing his face down into his desk. Instead, I smiled.
“A new jury panel is being sworn in this morning, so we’ll start picking our jury this afternoon.” Grosso banged his gavel and walked down the three steps from his bench and left the courtroom.
“Can we get a different judge?” Lisa whispered to me.
I shook my head. “This trial is going to be a lot harder than I expected,” I said.
Chapter 22
AS THE COURTROOM EMPTIED out, Lisa said she wanted to go home. I told her I would meet her back in the courtroom later that afternoon. She walked out the door, and I was suddenly alone and seething. Having a judge as an adversary in a trial was a major drawback for a lawyer, and a bad situation for any client. But I had the feeling I was not going to have much luck in getting Grosso on my side. This was just the kind of dilemma that I used to talk to Bear about. He’d always managed to come up with a sensible solution.
I decided that I would have a chat with Dick Bennett, who had been such a good friend of Bear’s. Bennett had been the judge in the trial against Betz, so he certainly knew a lot about the case, and he had told me at Bear’s funeral that he knew how important Bear had been to me and that he would be ha
ppy to talk to me if I ever felt the need for fatherly advice.
The judges in the courthouse took turns swearing in the new jury panels. By coincidence, Bennett would be swearing in the jury panel that would produce the twelve jurors who would decide Lisa’s fate. Bennett would give an orientation speech to the new jurors that would set the tone for their two-week encounter with criminal justice. The judge’s job was to inspire the jurors to do their duty.
I entered the large room of what was called the jury control room, and took a seat in the back row, the last of twenty rows. In the front of the room was a long counter, and immediately to the right of it was a large American flag. In front of the counter was a lectern, and on the wall behind it was a large clock. It was 10 A.M.
Richard Bennett, dressed in the black robes of his profession, was standing at the lectern in front of the room looking out at the almost two hundred men and women summoned from the community. He must have just been introduced, because he was only now opening the black, three-ringed notebook resting on the lectern.
The room was silent as the random mix of people from the community respectfully, anxiously, waited for the judge to speak. Bennett was to talk about the majesty of the law and the importance of jury service in the American system of justice. He, like the other judges with years of experience on the bench, had delivered his version of the speech dozens of times before. Bear used to enjoy handling this assignment and over the years had done it many times.
“Ladies, gentlemen, members of our community,” Bennett began, “from grammar school on we have learned about our rights as Americans, but aside from voting, most of us have had few opportunities to participate actively in the democratic process. In a criminal trial the citizens themselves make fateful decisions in a direct expression of power.”
Two court attendants in uniform were standing at the back of the large room, one of them apparently telling the other a joke. A clerk sitting at a desk at the side of the room was chewing gum and filling out forms.
My mind wandered as Judge Bennett took the jurors through the familiar litany. I remembered the day that Bear, in his robes, had sworn me in as a prosecutor. Jenny had held the Bible for me in Bear’s chambers. I was so nervous that when I removed my hand from the Holy Book, I left my handprint on the leather.
“If you do your duty as you are instructed,” Judge Bennett said, softly, almost to himself, “you will reap the rich reward reserved for those who rise to the call of public service.”
I was impressed, as I always was, at the attentive and respectful attitude the jurors showed toward a judge. They were clearly hanging on to Judge Bennett’s every word.
Allen Swid sat down next to me. He had written articles on the Betz trial, and he had already written about the case against Lisa. He held a small spiral notebook in one hand and a pen in the other.
I nodded at him.
“I was in the courtroom this morning. It looks like it might be a rough trial for you, Mike,” Swid said.
“I thought I saw you smiling,” I said.
Swid turned to a page in his notebook and read to me. “Of the variety of ways that judges exercise power, none is more immediate or more awesome than their control over lawyers.” He put the notebook down and looked at me, waiting for a reaction.
I tried to smile. Someday, I thought, Molly will be just starting out in a career, and might sound as naive as this young man. I shook my head. No, Molly would never be such a jerk.
“I’m working on an article, a feature article, maybe even a cover story for a magazine. It’s about judges,” Swid said.
“That’s very interesting,” I said. Allen knew I was being sarcastic.
“It’s really amazing how respectful the jurors are to judges, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
Swid wrote some notes in his little book. He looked up again at me. “Judges, after all, are the critical focus of the justice system, leading the average person through the maze of legal mysteries that ultimately guarantee our constitutional rights. Wouldn’t you say?”
“No question about it. I couldn’t have said it better.”
Swid wrote some more notes in his little book.
“There should be a deep satisfaction,” Judge Bennett could be heard saying, “in having borne an important civic responsibility with honor and distinction, regardless of the results.”
“How much do you think the jurors really understand what he’s talking about?” Swid asked.
“Enough,” I said. “Enough to realize it’s a serious responsibility they’re being asked to take on.”
“Well, Mike, do you think Grosso is going to give you a fair trial?”
“You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you, Allen?”
“Nope. Just thought I’d try.” Swid rose to leave. “I’ll see you in court tomorrow.”
“Of course.”
I tried to catch where Judge Bennett was in his speech. Bennett was looking down at his notebook on the lectern. He had a pained expression on his face.
“Deep satisfaction. There should be deep satisfaction,” Judge Bennett said. “Pride… I don’t… Who knew?” He paused and looked down at his notebook. He seemed unable to continue.
I was struck by the silence. Bennett was clearly struggling. Something was wrong.
“I’ve been a judge now for almost eighteen years,” he said. “Eighteen years of criminal trials… one atrocity after another… an endless parade of monsters doing unspeakable… such savagery… to fellow human beings… You try… nothing seems to matter… they just keep coming.”
The clerk and the court attendants exchanged glances. It had finally occurred to them that something unusual was happening.
I stood and headed toward the lectern.
Judge Bennett began to sob. “The cruelty… I had no idea. When I began…”
I arrived at Judge Bennett’s side and put my arm around his shoulder. “It’s all right, Judge,” I said.
“The bastards…” Judge Bennett said.
“Tell the clerk to swear in the jury,” I gently said.
“Swear the jury,” Judge Bennett obediently said.
Shaken and confused by what they had just witnessed, the jurors stood for the oath. The clerk walked to the lectern.
“Please raise your right hands,” the clerk said.
The jurors obeyed.
“Do you solemnly swear,” the clerk read from a dog-eared three-by-five card, “that you will support the Constitution of the United States and the Constitution of this state, so help you God? Please respond ‘I do.’”
“I do,” the jurors responded.
A court attendant and I led Bennett into a small office, outside the jury control room. I waited with the judge as the attendant called his family to come to the courthouse.
Chapter 23
LATER THAT DAY, AN hour into the afternoon session, Judge Grosso was on the bench and fourteen people were in the jury box. The back of the courtroom was filled with the rest of the jury panel. John and I were at our places at counsel table. Lisa was seated next to me.
“If any of you have ever been convicted of a crime, please so indicate by raising your hand,” Judge Grosso said to the jurors in the box.
None of the jurors raised a hand.
“Have you or any member of your family ever been the victim of a crime? Please indicate so by raising your hand,” Judge Grosso said.
Almost half the jurors in the box raised their hand. “Welcome to urban America,” I muttered to myself.
“What?” Lisa asked.
“It’s not important,” I said.
“Okay. Let’s start with Juror Number One. That’s you,” Judge Grosso said, checking his notes, “Mrs. Rothbart.”
“My house was broken into about a year ago. Some things were taken,” Mrs. Rothbart said.
“Will that prejudice you in any way against this defendant?” Judge Grosso asked.
“I’ll never get ov
er it. I felt so violated.”
“Do you think you would hold that experience against the defendant in this case?” Judge Grosso asked.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Juror Number Three. That’s you,” Judge Grosso said, again consulting his notes, “Mr. Carey.”
“My wife’s pocketbook was stolen. She was just walking down the street,” Mr. Carey said.
“Will that prejudice you in any way against this defendant?” Judge Grosso asked.
“I guess not,” Mr. Carey said.
“Guessing is not good enough. Would it or would it not?” Judge Grosso asked.
“No, it would not.”
“Juror Number Seven.” Judge Grosso checked his notes. “Mrs. Grosstuck.”
“Our car was stolen. Does that count?” Mrs. Grosstuck said.
“Of course. Your property was taken,” Judge Grosso said. “Do you think that would prejudice you in any way against this defendant?”
“Should it?”
“Of course not. But I’m asking you if it will.”
“No, it will not,” the woman said.
“Good. Juror Number Eleven.” Judge Grosso checked his notes. “Miss Davis.”
“Can I speak to Your Honor privately?” Miss Davis asked.
“Yes. Come over here. This is what we call sidebar.” Judge Grosso pointed to the side of his desk farthest from the jury. “Counsel and the court reporter, please,” Judge Grosso said.
The juror made her way to sidebar, where she was joined by the court reporter, John, and me.
“Yes?” Judge Grosso said to the woman standing next to him.
“Your Honor, I was once raped,” Miss Davis said. “It was in college, almost twenty years ago. I was on a date, a blind date, and at the end of the evening he just forced himself on me.”
“Miss Davis, this case might involve allegations of rape or attempted rape,” Judge Grosso said. “I take it you are saying that that terrible experience would prejudice you in this case. Is that correct?”
“Objection,” I said. “Your Honor, you are slanting the questions so as to incline this juror to disqualify herself.”
Question of Consent: A Novel Page 14
