Jury Town

by Stephen Frey

  A few strides down the corridor, Wolf turned right into another hallway, which had a pungent, fresh-carpet odor.

  “Welcome to Jury Room One,” Wolf said, holding open the first door on the left. “There are fifteen more exactly like it. Remember, this entire wing is new. It was not here when Archer Prison was operational.”

  “I love it,” Victoria said as she followed Wolf. “It’s sharp looking and roomy.”

  “As we discussed at the start of all this a year ago,” Wolf said, “I’ve tried hard to make everything at the facility as spacious as possible. We don’t want people ever feeling claustrophobic if we can help it. We’re doing everything possible to fight that cabin fever you’re so worried about, Victoria. Fortunately, Archer Prison was designed for a thousand inmates, so we started from a good place in terms of space for two hundred.” Wolf pointed at the jury box. “Have a seat, both of you.”

  Fourteen chairs were arranged stadium-style in two rows against the far wall. Seven chairs in front and seven behind, those in back offset with those in front and raised eighteen inches for maximum viewing capability with plenty of room to pass by to get food and drink or take a bio break without disturbing others. Fourteen seats—two extras for alternates in case of illness or emergency—with a solid-oak, waist-high partition in front and to the sides of the chairs, perfectly replicating an actual courtroom jury box.

  Victoria pulled back the gate at one end of the back row, climbed the solitary step, and eased into the first chair. “Comfortable but not too comfortable,” she said approvingly. “We don’t want people nodding off while court’s in session.”

  “We’ve got the climate control programmed so that temperatures in the sixteen jury rooms will vary automatically and constantly between sixty-eight and seventy-four degrees. Research indicates that if the temperature varies that way, people have a harder time dozing.”

  “This is nice,” Cameron said, relaxing into a seat in the middle of the front row. “Hey, they spin,” he said, rotating toward Victoria.

  “That’s so we can use these as deliberation rooms as well,” Wolf explained. “So people can face each other like they would if they were sitting around a table after the two sides have rested.”

  “Any concern that jurors in the back are physically higher than those in front and therefore will have a psychological edge as they argue?” Cameron asked.

  “Fair point,” Victoria agreed. “Maybe we instruct the foreman to—Oh God!” she shrieked as the entire back row began to descend until it was level with the front.

  “Thought of that,” Wolf said with a satisfied smile. He gestured toward the wall opposite the jury box and the four huge screens affixed to it. “Ninety-five-inch Samsungs,” he said as he picked up a remote and aimed it at a stack of electronic equipment in one corner, which was encased in thick, clear plastic. The screens quickly flashed to life and to a trial in session. “You’re watching a video of a trial that ended last month in Petersburg. But you get the idea. The jurors will have constant views of the witness stand, the defense table, the prosecutor’s table as well as a panoramic perspective of the entire proceeding.”

  “Those pictures are really nice.”

  “They should be for what the screens cost.” Wolf pointed above the stack of electronic equipment to a large camera bolted into the wall. “Through a feed to their laptops, the judge, the attorneys, and the defendant will be able to see the jury at all times through that camera.”

  “Good.”

  “Audio will also be two-way. So jurors can hear everything said in the courtroom, and the judge can communicate at all times.” Wolf held up the remote again and pushed several buttons. A moment later the trial disappeared and was replaced on all four screens by the movie Avatar as the lights in the room dimmed. “When juries aren’t in session, this wing will turn into a multiplex. We’ll have sixteen different movies playing. We have a library of five thousand films, and we’ll publish a schedule every morning of what will be playing once court is over for the day.”

  “Any chance somebody clever could hook these screens up to outside programming?” Cameron asked. “We can’t have that.”

  “The only outside programming available to them will be the trials themselves,” Wolf answered. “Every morning our technical people will be required to make each connection to each courthouse individually. They will continue monitoring those connections all day from the control room. And, every afternoon, when court’s over, the techies will cut each connection to each courthouse individually. But listen,” he said somberly as he placed the remote down on the jury box banister and headed for the door, “I learned in my nearly two decades at FBP that people are very smart and very creative, especially people with time on their hands. We’ll have to monitor everyone and everything very, very carefully.”

  Victoria and Cameron followed him out, hustling to keep up.

  “As you know, your office is that way, past mine,” Wolf called to Victoria, gesturing to the left as he came out of the jury-room hallway and turned right onto the administration wing corridor. “The office of the head of the guard corps is also up there.”

  “The guard facilities are in a different building, right?” Cameron asked.

  “Their lockers and lounge are in that brick building on your left just as you come through the main entrance to the property.” Wolf waved at several doors on the right. “These are the medical facilities.”

  “Wait,” Victoria called, taking a moment to check the large infirmary. New equipment glistened beautifully. “Remind me about procedure here, Clint.”

  “All visits will be recorded and carefully reviewed by staff afterward unless,” Wolf said loudly as Cameron began to object, “the visit involves something of an intimate nature. A gynecology exam, a colonoscopy, a breast X-ray,” he said, ticking off examples. “In those cases, of course, no recording will be made. However, there will be two members of the medical staff present at all times, and which members of the medical staff are in attendance will be determined by a random-number system generated by computer just prior to the exam. When the exams are over, everyone will be thoroughly searched, and the medical staff debriefed by me personally as long as I’m on premises. If I’m not, it’ll be my second in commands doing the interviewing.” Wolf removed the Stetson for a moment to run his hand through his ponytail. “We’ll limit contact between the jurors and staff as much as possible, whether it’s cleaning people, guards, medical people, or administrators. But the reality is, some minimal amount of interaction is unavoidable.” He put his hat back on. “The key to securing those interactions will be the random nature of the staff present and the duplication of staff involved. It will be very, very hard to sneak information to jurors, whether it’s to bribe them or intimidate them, if the sender has no idea which staff member will be in attendance and there are always at least two staff members around. In addition,” he continued, “no schedule for anyone will be consistent week to week, not even for the administrative assistants. And schedules won’t come out far in advance, two days at most. Finally, even jurors will have a hybrid lottery system in terms of doctor and dental visits, unless it’s an emergency, of course.” He held up his hand. “And I’ll be all over every emergency visit. It’s the easiest and fastest way to gain separation from the general prisoner—sorry,” he interrupted himself, “the general juror population. I’ll personally review in detail every emergency situation.”

  “How will jurors notify you and your staff of an emergency?” Cameron asked.

  “There’s a button in each juror room. Right beside the small screen built into the desk through which we’ll communicate with them. Tell them what jury room to show up in for a new trial, what dinner choices will be that night. Things like that.”

  “And through which I will send an inspirational message every morning,” Victoria spoke up with a wide smile.

  Wolf rolled his eyes. “Are you still planning on doing that, Victoria?”

  �
�Yes, sir, every morning. It’ll be my tradition. They’ll love it.”

  “Governor Lewis,” someone called out.

  Victoria turned toward an elderly woman who was standing between two tall boxes, clasping a broom.

  “Hello there,” Victoria called back, cutting in front of Cameron to greet the woman. “What’s your name?”

  “Rose,” the woman answered softly as she took Victoria’s hand.

  “That’s such a beautiful name.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I wanted to thank you for one of the programs you got approved while you were governor. It’s the program that guarantees every fourth-grader in the public schools gets a laptop and Internet connection, even if they can’t afford them.”

  “Complete Connection,” Victoria said, recalling the fight she and Cameron had waged against Majority Leader Franz to win funding for the initiative. “And yes, we had quite a battle in the General Assembly getting that legislation approved and financed. More than a few tight-fisted senators and delegates believed there were better ways to spend money than on education. We went twelve rounds, but we got it done.”

  “It did my granddaughter a world of good,” Rose said, her voice laden with emotion. “Alicia was way behind all the other kids in her class when she got to fourth grade. And then she got a computer because of you. All of a sudden, she was on the Internet all the time, looking up things and getting so smart.” Rose wiped her eyes. “Alicia’s in seventh grade now, and she’s top of her class, getting straight As. She wants to be a doctor, a doctor. I hope I live to see that day.”

  “I have a good feeling you will,” Victoria said, gently embracing the frail woman. “Thank you for telling me that,” she said. “You made my day.”

  “You’re welcome, Governor Lewis.” Rose gestured around. “What you’re doing here is really good, too. God bless you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That reminds me of a tour I gave President Obama,” Wolf remarked as they continued walking. The long, narrow corridor finally gave way to a sprawling, brightly lighted, circular area, which lay at the heart of the massive facility. “Everyone loved that man that day.”

  “She gets it constantly,” Cameron said.

  “I’m sure.”

  “This is amazing,” Cameron exclaimed in a hushed voice as he gazed at the brand-new tables and chairs, which were perfectly arranged below the ceiling soaring fifty feet above them. “It’s beautiful in here.”

  “It really is,” Victoria agreed, pulling out a tissue to dab at her nose, which was running. She shot Cameron a quick look, but he hadn’t seemed to notice.

  “What we’re looking out at now is called the Central Zone,” Wolf explained. “This is where jurors will eat and socialize. They can also stretch their legs here in the winter if all fifty of the gym’s treadmills are in use.” Wolf motioned around toward the edge of the area. “Extending like points of a star from the Central Zone are five two-story wings of rooms, as well as the admin corridor we just came down. You’ll see it more clearly in a few minutes when we climb to the observation deck.”

  Victoria’s heart skipped a beat. “Observation deck?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like at the top of one of those surveillance towers?” Cameron asked.

  “Just like that.”

  “I’m not big on heights,” Victoria said firmly.

  “Me, neither,” Cameron seconded.

  “You’ll both be fine,” Wolf said with a chuckle. “The engineers assure me that the rust you’ll see in the stairway doesn’t affect the structural integrity of the tower.”

  Victoria held up both hands. “Hey, I’m not going up any—”

  “Archer Prison was built seventy years ago, and the star design was typical back then,” Wolf continued, pointing at one of the large, two-story openings, which led to the living quarters. “Each cell wing could handle two hundred prisoners. There were a hundred on each floor with two inmates each to the eight-by-ten rooms. We’re using four wings for the jurors. We couldn’t take the building out any further without massive construction costs, so the rooms are still just eight feet deep. But now they’re fifteen feet long, which allowed us to put thirteen rooms on each side of each floor and still have plenty of room for showers on each wing. Every juror will have his or her own room along with a sink and a toilet.”

  “So there are a few extra rooms?” Victoria asked, distracted by her worry about climbing a surveillance tower. “Assuming we have two hundred jurors.”

  “Eight extras,” Wolf answered. “Two hundred and eight rooms in total.”

  “What about the fifth wing?” Cameron asked as he and Victoria hustled to keep up with Wolf, who was striding ahead through the maze of tables and chairs. “Is that the workout area?”

  “Yup. Kitchen over there behind that wall of slots to the right,” Wolf said with a wave, “and inmates will order from the menu above the—”

  “Jurors,” Victoria reminded him loudly.

  “Got to fix that habit,” Wolf muttered under his breath. “Jurors will order from the menu above the slot and have their meal come through the slot on a tray. Breakfast and lunch will be fairly standard, still excellent quality, but dinner will be different each night, and they’ll be apprised of their choices on the screens in the desks of their rooms. Right above Victoria’s daily words of wisdom,” he muttered. “There will be central condiment stations, and everything will be cleaned every night while the jurors are sleeping. We’re doing everything we can to remove the possibility of information passing between jurors and staff, including having rooms and showers cleaned while jurors are out of the living quarters. Again we’ll use random-number generators to figure out who goes where to clean. Candidly, this place will be a lot like Las Vegas in terms of staff observation.”

  “What do you mean?” Cameron asked.

  “People will always be watching people,” Wolf responded. “You know, like box men watching the dealers, floor men watching the box men, pit bosses watching the floor men. You get the idea. We’ll be trying to catch anything being passed from a staff member to a juror on a tray, wrapped in a towel, or stuck inside a medicine vial. We’ll be watching for hand signals as codes, too. And we’ll have eyes in the sky out here watching everything.”

  “But no cameras in the rooms or the showers,” Victoria said firmly.

  Wolf shook his head. “No, but everywhere else.”

  They reached the athletic wing and moved from the hallway into the sprawling workout center.

  “Hey, this is really nice,” Victoria said, gazing at the huge room full of high-tech exercise equipment. “This room was empty last time I was here.”

  “Everything came last week,” Wolf said, pointing to the ceiling. “Upstairs are four basketball hoops and several racquetball courts. There are enough machines in this room for all two hundred jurors to be working out at the same time.”

  “Beautiful.”

  “Let’s check out one of the rooms,” Wolf suggested.

  “No need,” Victoria responded quickly.

  Wolf glanced at her. “Why not?”

  “Just no need.”

  He stared at her for a few moments, then shrugged. “Okay, then let’s climb the surveillance tower.”

  Victoria glanced at Cameron, who was gazing back knowingly. She shrugged. She’d conquered most of the demons she associated with this place—but not all. Not yet.

  Wolf nodded to himself in a supremely satisfied way as he gazed into the afternoon from a hundred feet above the ground, casually leaning against a rusty vertical beam at the edge of the observation deck with one hand as he clutched his white Stetson with the other.

  As if he were looking out over his kingdom, Victoria thought to herself.

  “It’s beautiful up here,” he called over his shoulder.

  From the top of the surveillance tower, they had a panoramic view of the world—which, outside the facility property, was filled by tree-covere
d foothills as far as the eye could see. Even the narrow ribbon of blacktop leading into the facility from the outside world was obscured by the dense canopy. It would be beautiful, Victoria figured as a stiff gust hit the tower, if she weren’t terrified. It wasn’t nearly this windy on the ground.

  “It’s peaceful up here when you don’t have inmates down there in the yard obsessed with escaping, because what else is there for them to think about all day?” Wolf’s expression turned steely and his tone bitter as he gestured down. “Especially the ones sentenced to life who don’t care about killing you during a breakout, because, after all, what are they risking? More time on their sentence?”

  Victoria stood in the middle of the tower’s twelve-by-twelve-foot observation deck at the point where the steps emerged, knees flexed as she clutched the top of the stairway’s rusty railing. They’d spent the last few minutes climbing what seemed like a thousand steps of a lighthouse-like, circular stairway to get up here. She was in excellent shape thanks to a demanding aerobics regimen she attacked four mornings a week. But her legs had turned to jelly on the last few steps as the world outside the enclosed stairway reappeared. Her brain was screaming at her to retreat to the ground now.

  White-knuckled fingers still clutching the railing, she leaned toward the edge as far as possible. The top of the dark, brick wall was sixty feet below, encasing the old prison like a huge, square box. At each corner of the box, a surveillance tower soared skyward like turrets of a fort—they were atop the tower on the old prison’s northeast corner.

  Wolf was right, she realized. The facility did resemble a five-point star from up here, if she ignored the administration corridor, which led to another, much smaller building that had served as the inmate receiving and discharge center—and the new jury corridor.

  “Foothills and valleys covered by trees,” Wolf spoke up wistfully. “We’re in the middle of nowhere out here.”