Lethal Defense

by Michael Stagg

  “Yes, Your Honor,” we both said.

  Judge Gallon nodded, and Stacy opened the door to the jury room. A raucous conversation went quiet. A moment later, the jury filed out.

  None of them glanced over at us as they sat down and all of them seemed to be making a point of not looking at the backs of the pictures of Dillon Chase that were on the ground next to the easel in front of the jury box. I saw the Hipster reach out and pat the Single Mom on the leg, who nodded.

  I had no idea what it all meant.

  When they'd all sat down, Judge Gallon said, “Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict?”

  The Retired Math Teacher stood up. I felt a twinge. She’d been elected foreperson and she had not liked my case at all. “We have, Your Honor,” she said.

  “Stacy?” said Judge Gallon.

  Stacy went over to the Retired Math Teacher and took the piece of paper from her. She delivered it to the judge who read it, checked another sheet, then nodded. Judge Gallon's face never cracked, not once, and her neutral expression didn't change as she handed the sheet of paper back to Stacy, who in turn brought it back to the Retired Math Teacher.

  If this seems like an agonizing process designed to absolutely torture the parties and the lawyers, it’s because it is. I smiled at Hank, who nodded.

  As Stacy brought the verdict back to the foreperson, I nudged Hank and he and Lindsey and I stood up. Jeff did too.

  “What say you?” said Judge Gallon.

  The Retired Math Teacher took the glasses which hung on a chain around her neck and put them on. When she spoke, her voice was clear. “In the matter of State of Ohio versus Hank Braggi on the count of murder in the first degree, we the jury find defendant Hank Braggi not guilty.”

  Hank squeezed my arm but remained quiet. He knew there were two more to go.

  “On the counts of murder in the second degree, we the jury find defendant Hank Braggi not guilty.”

  Hank squeezed harder. Enough to break it.

  “On the count of voluntary manslaughter, we the jury find defendant Hank Braggi not guilty.”

  There was a murmur throughout the courtroom and Hank put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, eyes glittering. I smiled.

  “Counsel, would you like to review the verdict form?”

  “Please, Your Honor,” we both said.

  As Stacy brought it over to us so we could review the signatures, Judge Gallon began speaking to the jury. “Members of the jury, I thank you for your service. What you've done is one of the most important things that we can do in our society and I appreciate the time and attention that you spent. You are now released from your obligations to keep your deliberations confidential and you may speak to whomever you wish about this matter. Often times, I know the lawyers would like the opportunity to speak with you to find out what mattered to you during the course of the trial. You do not have to do so, but I can tell you that, if you do, it is very helpful to those involved. Again, however, you are under no obligation to do so. Thank you again for your time and attention and you are excused.”

  As the jury filed back into the jury room to collect their things, I walked over to Jeff and extended my hand. He immediately took it. “Congratulations, Nate. That was well done.”

  “You tried a good case, Jeff. I thought you had it.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

  “With someone else, I hope,” I said.

  He smiled. “Me too.” Then he went about gathering his things.

  I turned to Danny. “Go in there with the jury and ask them what they thought.”

  Danny's eyes got big. “Why me?”

  “Because they won't tell me the truth. If there's something I was doing that annoyed them I want to know and they won't tell me so go in and asked them what they thought about the case.”

  Danny looked nervously at the room. “Right now?”

  “Right now.”

  Danny had no sooner walked by me when a bear engulfed me in a hug. Hank. Good Lord was he strong.

  Strong enough to break me in half.

  “Am I free?” he said.

  “You are,” I said. “But you'll probably want to double-check with him.” I pointed to Cade who came through the gate and smiled.

  “You want to do this somewhere privately?” Cade said.

  Hank grinned. “Get this goddamn shackle off me right now,” he said and put his massive foot up on a chair, revealing the monitor on his ankle. Cade reached down with the key, unlocked it, and pulled it off with a snap. “You're free to go, Mr. Braggi.”

  Cyn stepped up. “As soon as he signs the paperwork to get our money back.”

  Hank waved a hand. “A detail.”

  “Two million details,” said Cyn.

  Hank grinned and raised an eyebrow. “I'm good for it?”

  “You most certainly are not.”

  “Bah, even you can't ruin my mood.” He turned back to me and squeezed my shoulder again. “You kept fighting, Counselor. Good things happen when you keep fighting.”

  Now I raised an eyebrow at him. “Most of the time.”

  “Right right right. Most of the time.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  His eyes clouded. “I'm not sure. I doubt the tour will have me back but I’ll try anyway. If not, I may just follow the tour and listen to Lizzy from the upper deck. Either way, I can't leave for a couple of days.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “I have a pig roast to throw.”

  “Hank, you don't have to do that.”

  Hank raised his hand. “I know you don't like to hear my stories, but according to the legends of my country, the men in Valhalla fight every day. They go out and they spill blood and they practice killing each other and then, at the end of every day, they feast on the boar Gullinbursti to renew their spirits and their flesh. Now I know it’s just an old tale but the underlying principle is true—fight hard every day. And when you're done, celebrate.”

  Hank grinned. “We, Counselor, are going to do some celebrating.”

  Cyn waited until Hank stood aside and stepped up. Her demeanor had changed a bit. Her tanned face was still flawless and her red hair was perfectly straight and her suit remained utterly unwrinkled but instead of cool precision, she now exuded a calm warmth as she extended a hand to me. “Congratulations, Nathan.”

  “Thank you, Cyn. You were amazing.”

  Cyn shrugged. “Perhaps. But the spear is only as good as its point no matter how stout the handle.”

  I was too relieved to puzzle that one out right then so I said, “Are you sticking around or heading straight out.”

  “I need to get going. We have another case starting in two weeks.”

  I felt a twinge of disappointment then said, “All right, let's pack this up. Hank, if you want to go with Cade, you can finish the final paperwork and we can meet back at the office.”

  Cade nodded. “I'll drop him when we're done.”

  Hank put an arm around Cade’s huge shoulders. “Come on, my little jail-keeper.” And it was a testament to Hank's good humor and genuineness that Cade didn't seem to mind.

  As we packed our papers and exhibits, Jeff finished collecting his and walked away with a nod. It took me a few more minutes and I had just about finished packing when the jury began to file out of the jury room. A few smiled and waved and I smiled back. The Hipster stopped at the gate and pointed. “Tell your client that his beard is outrageous.”

  I smiled. “Will do.”

  The Pepsi Driver looked like she was about to leave when all of a sudden, she darted over and gave me a hug. She wouldn't look me in the eye. Instead, she gave me a quick squeeze and then left, wiping her eyes as she did. I was taken aback and looked at Cyn who gave me a shrug and went back to packing.

  The last one out, still talking to Danny, was the Retired Math Teacher. She walked straight over to me and shook my hand. “Nate Shepherd, you don't know me but I taught at Carrefour South for thirty-
five years.”

  I nodded. “I remember that from your questionnaire, Mrs. Benson.”

  She smiled. “That means I was there the year you knocked Mitch Pearson out. Twice.”

  I laughed and looked away.

  “Don't you dare look embarrassed, young man,” she said. “You jumped up and down at the time if I remember correctly.”

  I smiled. “Well, I guess we all change, Mrs. Benson.”

  “You would think so but that Mitch Pearson certainly hasn't. He was the same in here as he was in my algebra class, just about as full of himself as a quarterback could be and only half-deserving. Always a bully, didn't treat anybody well, and finally got what was coming to him on the twenty-four-yard line from an outside linebacker who was sick of his bull-crap.”

  I actually laughed at that. I couldn't help it. But Mrs. Benson was giving me this stern look and I saw that, although she’d sounded like she was joking, she was dead serious.

  “See, that's the thing, Mr. Shepherd,” she said. “Mitch Pearson was a first-class little prick in high school and eventually he got what was coming to him. And you shouldn't have to apologize for being the one to deliver it.”

  Mrs. Benson looked at me with a hard gleam that caught me off guard. “That happens sometimes, doesn't it?” she said. “Not always, but sometimes people get what's coming to them.”

  She took my hand and she squeezed it. “And other times, there's no justice in the world at all.”

  I saw the faintest watering in the corner of her eye. “Mrs. Benson?” I said.

  She squeezed my hand harder. “I had Sarah in my class too.”

  And that was all she said. She put her other hand on top of mine and she tried to speak but she couldn't which was good because neither could I. She nodded and I nodded back and she patted my hand and she left.

  Danny was watching it all. “They had a lot to say,” he said.

  37

  My phone buzzed. “Hi, Mom,” I said.

  “Well, Nate, you have your father so flustered that he didn’t go out on the boat this morning so I don’t need to tell you how serious this is.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “All of these people swarming around the cottage and dragging their trailers across the lawn, although I suppose they didn't leave any marks on the grass. And that smoker? I’ve never seen one that big and it’s squatting right there in the middle of my yard.”

  “Mom. Mom, slow down. I have no idea what you're talking about.”

  “You throwing a pig roast at our house without even saying anything, that's what I'm talking about!”

  “Mom, I'm not throwing a pig roast at your house.”

  “No? Then why is there an eight-foot-tall, cast-iron smoker in the middle of my yard with a pig in it?”

  “There is?”

  “An enormous pig, Nate, stuffed with onions and apples.”

  “When was this?”

  “Not an hour ago. The truck is from Newton Farms. You know the Newtons, have the place up on the north side of town where they keep pigs and cattle. Well, apparently they throw pig roasts too and you bought the deluxe package. Showed up and said they had to get it started right away if it was going to be ready by tomorrow night. Turns out a whole pig takes almost a whole day to cook.”

  “Who knew?”

  “Everyone knows that! Anyway, your dad goes right up and asked them what they're doing in his yard although he didn't put it exactly like that, as you can imagine, and they said that our son had arranged it and he said, ‘Tommy?’ and the man said, ‘No,’ and he said, ‘Mark?’ and he said, ‘No,’ and he said, ‘It can’t be Nate,’ and the man said, ‘That’s exactly who it was’ and that if we didn’t want to waste a whole pig that had already been paid for, we’d better let him set up and do his job and your dad steps aside for just a second and boom! There’s a smoker in my yard.”

  I smiled. Turns out Hank Braggi could act fast when he wanted to. “I think it's a gift from a client, Mom.”

  “A gift?”

  “We won our case today. I think the pig roast is a thank you.”

  “Well, why would he put it up here?”

  I thought for a moment. “Because this particular client feels that families and celebrations are important.”

  “Well, I can't say as I disagree with him there. I think the only reason your father allowed it is because the pig will be ready on Saturday. You know how he is about doing the grilling on Sunday.”

  I smiled. “I do.”

  “So looks like you'll be eating here two nights this weekend.”

  “It certainly does.”

  “All right, Son. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon then?”

  “Yes. Can Mark and Tommy's families make it?”

  “They’d better. We have a whole pig to eat.”

  “All right, Mom. I'll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, honey. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I shook my head then walked up the stairs to the third-floor temporary office. When I walked in, I saw an orderly row of boxes all packed up and ready to ship. The conference room, which had been covered in documents for weeks, was picked up, neat, and empty. Two men in uniforms of blue shirts and blue shorts were standing there as Cyn said, “Those boxes go to Minneapolis and that equipment goes to Memphis.”

  The tallest man nodded. “Anything else?”

  She shook her head. “Everything else stays.”

  The man nodded again and the two began carrying boxes out the door.

  “Next case in Memphis?” I said.

  “It is.”

  “Not staying for the pig roast?”

  Cyn smiled. “So Braggi made good on his promise?”

  “He did.”

  “I'm afraid Braggi's celebrations tend to run a little long.”

  I smiled. “Don’t worry. My dad’s an early riser.”

  Cyn smiled again, which was more smiles in one night that I'd seen throughout the whole case. “Then maybe your dad will have more luck than Braggi's dad. I'm sorry, Nathan, I’d like to but I have to move on to the next case.”

  She extended her hand. “You tried a good case, Nathan. I know it was difficult but you never let it show. I respect that very much.”

  I shrugged. “All cases are difficult.”

  Cyn gave me a stare that was difficult to meet. “Still,” was all she said. And that was enough.

  An actual ring tone came through on Cyn's phone and she answered immediately. “Yes, Mr. Skald?” she said. She listened. “Of course, he's right here.”

  She handed me the phone. “Hello?”

  “Nate, this is Victor Skald. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you, Mr. Skald.”

  “Please, it’s Victor. Just like you. That was very well done!”

  “Thank you. I couldn't have done it without Cyn.”

  “That’s the truth. She is a marvel, isn't she? With her on your side the battle’s half won but we've all seen more than enough cases go south, haven't we?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It was even odds here at the home office, just as many people thought Hank was headed for a lethal injection as thought he might be walking free. But Cyn believed that you were the perfect man for the job and it turned out we were right.”

  “Thank you, Mr.…Victor. It was a team effort.”

  “Of course it was, but a spear with a blunt point is just a drumstick.”

  That was the second time I'd heard a spear expression that day. I shook my head. “That's very kind.”

  “Two things before you go celebrate,” said Victor Skald. “We knew there was a very good chance that Hank was headed for execution. He's not, so we’re paying you a bonus.”

  “That's not necessary, Victor.”

  “I know it's not, but we’re all very happy here and Hank's parents are thrilled. They paid us a bonus and we’re paying one to you.”

  “I can't accept that, Victor.”

/>   “Of course you can and you are. How you spend it is up to you. Make sure some of it trickles down to that young associate of yours.”

  “Of course. What about Cyn?”

  Victor chuckled. “Cyn has the arrangement of her choosing. We give her whatever she asks for. Don't worry about her.”

  “Thank you, Victor.”

  “And you're keeping the tablets and equipment.”

  “That’s not necessary either, Victor.”

  “I know it's not but you probably have files in them and sandwich stains on them so what would we do with them?”

  “Thank you, Victor.”

  “You're welcome, Nate. And if we ever have need of counsel again in Carrefour, we certainly know who to call.”

  “Certainly. Thank you.”

  “Tell Cyn I'll wait to hear from her when she gets to Memphis. Good-bye, Nate.”

  “Good-bye.”

  I hung up and handed the phone back to Cyn. “He said he'll wait to hear from you in Memphis.”

  Cyn took the phone and put it in her purse.

  “He's giving us a bonus.”

  “You deserve it.”

  “He said you have your own arrangement?”

  “I do.”

  “He also said you thought I would be perfect for this case.”

  “You were.”

  “Why did you think that?”

  Cyn stopped and looked up with those cool green eyes. “A former prosecutor, now independent lawyer, with a great reputation who grew up and played football in the town where the case is pending? Seems like a pretty logical choice for local counsel.”

  “You’re the most thoroughly prepared person I’ve ever worked with, Cyn.”

  She looked away. “Thank you.”

  “No detail is ever too small for you.”

  Silence.

  “Not about a case,” I said. “And not about your local counsel.”

  Cyn shrugged her purse over her shoulder.

  “Just tell me you didn’t leak the story.”

  “I would never violate a court’s gag order, Nathan.”

  I thought. “No, I don’t think you would. But the gag order applied to the facts of the case. Not to an attorney’s travel arrangements. Say to North Carolina.”