“So you think the defense has really blundered by not opting in?”
“Maybe not. It leaves the prosecution in the dark too. We don’t know anything about the defense—who their witnesses may be, or what they may have to say. It’s possible that Charles knows about the retinoscope being found and that his mother identified it as being hers. This may lead him to claim that he loaned it to someone or that it was stolen, or lost, or who knows what.”
“You said Vandera apparently wasn’t planning an alibi defense. Why? Wouldn’t you expect that?”
“Yes, we did expect it. So, we filed a written ‘demand for alibi defense.’ On our demand, they have to provide the specific place he claimed to be and any witnesses who would support his claim. Since they didn’t provide it, they can’t put on witnesses saying he was at home, at Joe’s Bar, or surfing out on Tybee Beach. However, it doesn’t prevent his testifying that he was somewhere else. He just can’t bring in witnesses to support him.”
“So what do you expect he’s going to do for a defense?”
“Frankly, we don’t know. It’s got us guessing. But his defense is his problem. My problem is to get this case ready for trial and prepare for whatever defense he brings. So, ready to listen to my opening statement?”
“Sure.” Jennifer walked into the jury box and took a seat in the midsection.
Scott stepped behind the lectern, turned on its small light, and placed several note cards across the top. Then he stepped out in front.
He began, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury....” And for the next six or seven minutes, he explained the offense of burglary and gave a basic outline of the evidence that the state would be presenting. He described the scene in the pharmacy area when the pharmacists arrived. He noted the tools that were left, but he made no mention of the retinoscope. He addressed Vandera’s unexplained absence for two days after the burglary and the fresh cuts on his arm that were observed when he returned.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, what I have described is the crime of burglary. I have told you when, where, and how it took place. What I have not yet revealed is the one crucial piece of evidence that ties the defendant surely and inescapably to this crime. When that is presented, you will be convinced, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Charles Vandera is guilty as charged.”
Scott walked over to the lectern, scooped up his note cards, and walked to where Jennifer was still seated. “What do you think?” he asked. “Are you ready to vote?”
“Not really. And I surely couldn’t vote him guilty right now. You want my critique—someone who hasn’t spent the first day in a law school class?”
“Sure, that’s why I asked you to come. Of course, I want your critique. The jury hasn’t spent a day in a law school class either. Tell me, if you were on the jury, what would you be thinking right now?”
“I would be thinking about what you didn’t say and why. Even if I believed all the evidence you told us about, you haven’t connected this burglary to Vandera. I would be doubting your case. Right now the jury is going to have to accept on blind faith that you have evidence to tie Vandera to the case, and they just may not do that. They may think, ‘Well, if you have that evidence, why aren’t you telling us about it now?’ I think first impressions are extremely important, and I don’t think that was a good first impression—except for your delivery. Now that was good. Handsome guy, great voice, great courtroom presence. I just might overlook the fact that your evidence is missing.” Jennifer smiled.
Scott managed a smile too. “I’m glad I have thick skin. But I know you’re right. I feel the same way. I was just hoping it wouldn’t come off that way to a jury. You say it does, and I have to live with that unless I decide to let the jury know up front about the retinoscope. Anything else?”
“Yes, I do have something else, but I’m kind of tentative on this—I may be way off base. You start your opening with ‘ladies and gentlemen of the jury.’ I read somewhere that it’s best for the prosecutor to address the jury with the phrase ‘members of the jury,’ the theory being that this is an inclusive phrase, while ‘ladies and gentlemen of the jury’ is a divisive phrase.”
“A divisive phrase? Lawyers have been addressing juries in that manner ever since women began to serve on juries. Seems to me to be a very respectful salutation.”
“But don’t you see you’re putting your jury into two groups, ‘ladies’ in one, ‘gentlemen’ in the other? The defense may want them separated, but the prosecution wants them as a unit; ‘members’ does that. You want them to think like a unit. Your verdict has to be unanimous. Just a suggestion. You did ask for suggestions, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did, but I’ve never, ever, heard anything like that and never thought of it. Sounds like psychobabble to me. Where on this green earth did you hear that, Jen?”
“I’m not sure. Read it somewhere. After I decided to go to law school, I began reading everything I could get my hands on about trials—especially books by trial lawyers like Gerry Spence and F. Lee Bailey.”
“F. Lee Bailey’s books?”
“Yes, I have a couple.”
“He was some trial lawyer. Do you know what happened to him?”
“No, what?”
“Disbarred. Got in trouble down in Florida—accused of misappropriating a client’s funds and lying to a federal judge. Disbarred in both Florida and Massachusetts. How about that, go from having your face on Time as one of the most famous lawyers in the country to being disbarred.”
“I didn’t know that. Burn the Bailey books?”
“No, of course not. I read one of his books this summer. Lots of practical stuff in it. I also like Jake Ehrlich.”
“Jake who?”
“Ehrlich. He was a criminal defense lawyer from the forties and fifties. From San Francisco. He defended Billie Holiday, Errol Flynn, Howard Hughes, and just about every Hollywood star who got into trouble. He wrote over a dozen books, but they are out of print and hard to find. An old lawyer in my home town, a friend of my mom, gave me a couple of Ehrlich’s books from his own collection when he heard that I was going to go to law school. There’s a book about his life titled Never Plead Guilty. The school library has a copy; good book.”
“I like the title.”
“Yes, clever title—and Charles Vandera is taking his advice. But now, back to your suggestion, ‘members of the jury.’ I’m going to try that, Jen; maybe there’s something to it.”
Scott and Jennifer heard the front door to the courtroom open. They looked up to see a man entering. “That’s Professor Nolan,” said Scott. “He teaches Property.”
“Nolan? I will be in his class,” said Jennifer.
The professor walked down the center of the courtroom towards the jury box where they were seated. He was about the same height as Scott and appeared to be in his early thirties. His light-brown hair hung to his shoulders in the back and almost covered his ears on the side. With pale-grey eyes and soft features, he had what might best be described as “average guy looks”—reasonably handsome but not someone who would turn heads on the beach. Scott and Jennifer stood, and Scott introduced her. Jennifer informed him that she would be in his class, which was meeting for the first time on Monday.
“I hope Scott is tutoring you, Jennifer. He was one of my better students, but, unfortunately, I don’t think he’s going to be practicing real property law. I believe he wants to be a prosecutor, right, Scott?” He was addressing his question to Scott, but his eyes had remained on Jennifer, shifting and darting across her entire body.
“Well, Professor, at least for a while. I have a trial coming up Wednesday, and I asked Jennifer to listen and critique my opening statement.”
“Did she give you any pointers?” His eyes remained on Jennifer.
Scott hesitated a moment before answering and then said with a forced laugh, “As a matter of fact she did—said I had a lot of work yet to do.”
“So you apparently are interested in trial work al
so, Jennifer?” asked the professor.
“I am,” she replied. “And I just hope I’m cut out for it.”
“Well, you’ll find out before you graduate. We have a solid trial advocacy program here at Savannah Law. The students compete in a number of trial competitions. Scott, you’ve been active in these competitions. When are they scheduled?” For the first time since the introduction, he turned to face Scott.
“The first one is the William Daniel Competition in Atlanta in November; at least it was last year,” said Scott.
“Jennifer would be eligible to try out for the team, wouldn’t she, Scott?”
“Not right away, Professor. The team advocates are selected from second- and third-year students. Evidence and Trial Advocacy are prerequisites for the team.”
“Well, I would think those courses would be required for the team advocates but not the witnesses. Witnesses are considered part of the team, aren’t they, Scott?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Who selects the witnesses?”
“The coaches,” replied Scott.
“Would that be something you would be interested in this semester, Jennifer?” asked Nolan. He supplemented his gaze with a smile.
“I am interested,” she said as she responded to his smile with one of her own.
“Good. Maybe something can be worked out. Professor Leyton is in charge of the program. I’ll speak with him about getting you involved, and I’ll give you a call.”
And then, for only the second time since entering the courtroom, he turned to look at Scott.
“Now, Scott, I want to ask a favor of you. You are aware that Dean Adams is stepping down at the end of this school year?”
“I have heard that. Sorry to see him leave. I think he’s been good for the school.”
“I agree,” said the professor. “I plan to campaign to replace him. I’ll announce this shortly after the faculty meeting Tuesday afternoon. I expect Dean Adams to officially notify the faculty of his retirement at that meeting. But it’s no secret. He’s already informed the Board of Trustees. I’m not sure who, if anyone else, on the faculty will be vying for the job, but I’m going to aggressively pursue it. And that’s where I need your help.”
“My help?”
“Yes, of course. The Dean Search Committee will be appointed by the Board of Trustees. I don’t know who will be on it, but they surely will have student representation; most search committees do. They’ll probably have a student group interview each candidate, but more than that, I’m sure that you, as president of the Student Bar Association, will be a voting member of the search committee. So I’m asking for your commitment to support my candidacy.”
“You really think they’ll have a student representative?”
“I have no doubt; I’m sure they will. Now, can I count on you?”
Scott hesitated a moment before responding. “Professor Nolan, you have been with the school since its opening, and everyone is aware of your excellent reputation. And your father played the major role in establishing Savannah College of Law. How can you miss?”
“Thanks, Scott. I may need to get in touch with you. Do you have a cell phone?”
Scott wrote the number on a piece of paper and handed it to Nolan.
“I will keep you informed as things move along, and you keep me posted. And Jennifer, I’ll get back to you after I speak to Professor Leyton. Do you have a phone where I can reach you?”
“Sure, probably my cell phone would be best. I usually carry it with me. But I’ll give you the number at my apartment also.” She took the same paper that Scott had just handed the professor and wrote both numbers on it.
“Thanks. Now, in the meantime, make sure you keep getting your beauty sleep—it’s working just fine.” As he said it, he winked at Jennifer and departed.
Jennifer and Scott stood without speaking as the professor walked up the center aisle and exited through the door he had entered.
“Did he wink at you as he left, Jen?” asked Scott, his annoyance showing.
“I think so. But maybe it was just a tic,” said Jennifer with a grin.
“Yeah, I’m sure it was. That was some conversation. You get an invitation to join the trial team as a witness without going through the tryout procedures, and I get invited to support his so-called aggressive pursuit of becoming the next dean at Savannah Law. And did you hear him say he wants me to keep him posted? Posted about what?”
“What I noticed, Scott, was that when he asked for your commitment to support him, you avoided his question.”
“You are perceptive. But I don’t think he even noticed.”
“No, I don’t think he did. He apparently was pleased with what you said and just missed what you didn’t say. But to me it was obvious. You never said you would support him. Why?”
“I have my reasons. But for starters, I didn’t like the pressure he was trying to apply by asking for my commitment in front of you. I don’t know who else will be in the running. He says we will be interviewing all of the candidates. How can I know which candidate I will support until I see the field? Why should I commit now? Frankly, I don’t like what I just saw. He meets you for the first time, has a five-minute chat, can’t take his eyes off you then leaves with a wink—and he wants me to support him as dean?”
“Oh, Scott, don’t start imagining things. He was just being friendly. But let’s suppose he did have what one might call a ‘wandering eye.’ Am I not a worthy target?” Jennifer asked with hands outstretched and in a mock-hurt voice.
Scott thought for a moment; then he smiled. “That’s a great question. You are going to make a super advocate. And of course, the answer is yes.”
“You said you had your reasons for not saying you would support him. Then you said, ‘for starters,’ you didn’t like him asking you directly. OK, that’s for starters. What else is involved?”
“I think it would be best if we just left it at that.”
“Come on, Scott. Level with me. You don’t like him—that’s obvious. You must have reasons.”
Yes, Scott did have his reasons. He thought the professor was either spineless or corrupt, and probably both. It stemmed from a classroom incident during Scott’s first year. Two students had been caught cheating during the final exam in his Property course. Not only did the proctor observe them passing notes, but there were two other witnesses to the incident, one being Scott. The notes were confiscated by the proctor, and statements by the two witnesses and the proctor were delivered to Professor Nolan. When grades were posted, all students received passing grades. The two students were never prosecuted by the honor court, and they remained in school. One of the students was related to a member of the Board of Trustees. Still, Scott saw no good purpose in telling Jennifer of this two-year-old incident.
“Yes, I have my reasons. But, as I said, let’s let it go at that. Maybe I just need a bite to eat. This is your last free night before your law school classes wrap you in total drudgery, so let’s go to dinner—and I’m buying. How about Six Pence Pub on Bull? What do you say?”
“Six Pence Pub it is; that’s one of my favorite restaurants,” said Jennifer, and they walked from the courtroom to Scott’s Camaro parked nearby.
CHAPTER 6
The Six Pence Pub was also one of Scott’s favorite restaurants. It was small and casual, served good food, and was reasonably priced—a nice place to take a date. Service was quick. They both ordered shepherd’s pie, a specialty of the house. The conversation was lively and light. However, the earlier meeting of Professor Nolan in the courtroom was still on Scott’s mind. He took his beer mug in both hands, mischievously looked over the top at Jennifer, and winked.
“I’m just playing professor,” Scott said, smiling.
Jennifer smiled back but otherwise ignored the comment. “Speaking of the professor, you told him that you were aware of the role his father played in establishing Savannah Law. What was his role?”
“I don’t know a l
ot about it; I wasn’t here, but I’ve picked up bits and pieces. Howard Nolan, Professor Nolan’s father, was the moving force behind the founding of the law school. He became chairman of the Board of Trustees and all on the board were his friends—all prominent Savannah movers and shakers.”
“Which means that Professor Nolan will have a big advantage? All his dad’s friends are on the board?”
“Well, not exactly,” said Scott. “Howard Nolan died two years ago, during my first semester. There was a big write-up about his civic activities, especially his contribution to the school. And there was something in the article about a scandal—well, an ‘alleged scandal’ may be more appropriate. I don’t recall much about it, but apparently some of the board members were so upset they resigned. So, the board may not be stacked with Howard Nolan’s friends now. My aunt worked as a secretary for one of the trustees who resigned.”
“You have an aunt here in Savannah?”
“Well, I did. She was instrumental in my coming to Savannah Law. She died quite suddenly a year ago.”
“I’m sorry,” said Jennifer. “Were you close?”
“We became close. She was my mom’s older sister, a widow, who had lived in Savannah for about forty years. When my mom mentioned to her that I was interested in law school, she told her about Savannah Law. She had an apartment over the garage in her back yard and offered it free of charge to me if I would come here. It’s less than three miles from the campus. Both of her children had moved out of state, and she was pleased to have a relative nearby.”
“You were lucky,” said Jennifer. “Nice to have a rich aunt.”
“No, she wasn’t rich, but she was a very nice aunt. She even suggested that I get a roommate. She said I could have him—she required it be a ‘him’—pay rent to me and share expenses. So, I applied to Savannah Law, got accepted, hooked up with Jeff as my roommate, and that’s how I ended up here.”
“What happened to your living arrangements after your aunt died? Are you still in the apartment?”
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