by Derek Blass
The image of his face was burned in her mind even after shifting her vision. A long scar ran down his forehead and to his left eye, which was covered by a patch. His hands resembled concrete blocks on the end of a tree limb. There was a general aura of coldness around him. She glanced back and felt relieved that he wasn't still looking at her. She felt the net of focus loosen and watched as both sides worked furiously on their selections.
The prosecutor called out a number and the truck driver next to her stood up. He slid out of the jury box and as he did said to her, “Thank Jesus for that.” Then the other attorney called out a number. The young man who had identified himself as another teacher stood up and left as well. He had said he liked, “Democracy and a fair police force.” When the defense attorney asked him if he knew about this case, the man answered affirmatively. Tawny must have been out of it because she hadn't heard anything about this case. She didn't pay much attention to the news anyway.
The attorneys went back and forth with their selections. When they were left with only two strikes each, Tawny started to wonder if she was really going to be left on the jury. It kind of made her feel good, as if in not being stricken, she was selected. She looked around at the other people remaining and saw the jockey and the woman with the white blouse. The nice black man who had given her a seat also remained.
She heard the prosecutor say, “Eighteen.” No one got up immediately. The judge said, “Juror eighteen, you may leave.” A woman finally rose from her seat. She was lanky and a bit crazed-looking to Tawny. While she stood up, she didn't move from her seat just yet. Instead, she peered at the judge, who seemed mildly amused by this occurrence. Then the woman started yelling.
“These police officers do what they can! You don't know what they deal with on a daily basis!” She was generally directing this tirade to the people in the gallery, most of whom were deflecting the words by directing their attention elsewhere. Two of the bailiffs jumped to action and grabbed the woman.
“I will put you in county jail if you don't stop this right now!” the judge yelled. The woman paid him no attention, “The dead man was just a leech! Living on our system, a drain!”
“That is quite enough!!” the judge yelled as he stood up and slammed his gavel down on the bench. The woman stopped talking but struggled with the bailiffs. They got a hold of both of her arms and dragged her out of the courtroom. The judge managed to slap a day in jail on her before she was fully out. He turned to the remaining jurors and said, “You will disregard what just happened. The case you may hear is controversial, but it is your imperative, your duty, to have no prejudgment when this case starts.” He sat down and adjusted his robe. “Go on, counsel.” The attorneys struck three more people without incident. Tawny looked around, a bit shocked. She was on her first jury.
F O R T Y-F O U R
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The judge let them take a break after the attorneys finished jury selection. It was actually an exhausting procedure for everyone involved. Even Shaver found himself fatigued. The breaks didn't mean anything to him. He didn't smoke, he had no one to talk to. They were actually more isolating than when everyone was sitting around him, constantly keeping him at the periphery of their attention.
The hoard of people filtered back into the courtroom as the judge directed the prosecutor to begin his opening statement. Shaver watched as the prosecutor swayed in front of the jurors, like a multi-headed snake. He began with an introduction to the case, combing and plucking the jurors in preparation for the evidence he was to present. The man was convincing, Shaver thought to himself. A ball of nerves shuddered momentarily in his stomach before he suppressed the emotion.
Then the prosecutor told a story of that old man, undoubtedly woven together from equal parts bullshit and fairy tale. A transparent attempt to rile feelings that left Shaver feeling ill. As if these people cared about that man.
“Don't be confused, ladies and gentlemen, this is a case about murder. Don't be fooled either. There was no defense, no justifiable use of force here. Instead, an old man was murdered in his bed.” The prosecutor turned and pointed at him. “This is a cold-blooded killer, capable of aiming directly at a helpless man's chest,” the prosecutor raised his arms as if holding a gun and came right up to Shaver, “and pulling the trigger three times. No hesitation. No remorse.”
Shaver bore a hole through the prosecutor with his eyes. The two men stood staring at each other. Far too long. Mason broke the contest first—out of necessity. He redirected his attention to the jurors and continued. “This is a monster that needs to be put away for the rest of his life. The State is asking for murder in the second degree. The State is asking you to protect your fellow citizens from sharing Mr. Rodriguez's fate.”
As the prosecutor wrapped up his opening, Shaver heard an extra amount of commotion behind him. He looked and saw that people were standing up and rushing to the windows. This seemed to awaken the judge from his reverie. He pounded his gavel a couple of times, but almost the entire gallery was crowded around the windows at the back of the courtroom. “Bailiffs, go settle these people down!” A woman shrieked and fainted. Two of the bailiffs pushed through the crowd and created some space around her.
“Don't even think about it,” Sphinx said to Shaver.
“What're you talking about?” Shaver asked as he looked at all of the bailiffs dealing with the crowd around the windows.
“What's going on back there?!” the judge bellowed.
“People are fighting!” someone screamed.
“Who?!”
“Everyone!” someone cried back to him. “People are fighting each other...the cops are fighting the people! It's a sea of bodies! It must have tripled in size since this morning!”
Shaver started to go to see for himself until the judge screamed out to the bailiffs, “Bailiffs! Secure the prisoner!” Three of the bailiffs came to their senses and redirected their attention to Shaver. Just then the a chorus of footsteps sounded from down the marble hall outside of the courtroom. They stomped in relentless unison until they burst through the courtroom doors. Six policemen stormed in.
“Your Honor, we need to stop this trial right now!”
“For what?”
“Have you seen what's going on outside?” another officer asked incredulously. “Let's get you out of here.” Half of the officers stood by the courtroom doors and the others moved toward the judge.
“There is no way,” Judge Melburn said. “This trial will continue!” Where the gavel failed this statement did not. The officers halted in their tracks. The people who had been watching what was going on outside stopped and looked at him.
“Your Honor, you can't be serious,” one of the officers said in a high-pitched voice.
“Well I can and I am.”
“There is a mob outside fighting to get in here. People are getting attacked, smothered and trampled in the process. It's all we can do to stop them from getting into the courthouse—so we need to get you out now!”
“You do your job and stop them. We'll do our job in here and continue this trial. There will be no intimidation of my courtroom,” Judge Melburn said with a bit of reckless pomp. The attorneys, the jurors and the gallery looked at him in astonishment. Shaver was the only one that appeared unaffected. In fact, he looked pleased.
“No, this isn't right,” a man said as he came toward the bench. “You need to get us all out of here! I just came to watch a trial, not be a part of a siege!” A bailiff put his hand into the man's chest. “Listen, you can't stop me! I want out!” Some of the other people voiced their agreement with the man.
The judge slammed his gavel down, but it may as well have been a plastic toy. “Everyone will sit, and everyone will be quiet!” Shaver smiled but kept his calm. The jurors were always watching. That's what Sphinx told him.
Sphinx stood up and said, “May I proceed, Your Honor?” The judge nodded. A deep, low-toned boom went off outside and se
nt a light vibration through the courtroom. The hanging chandeliers slowly rocked back and forth. People in the gallery huddled together.
Sphinx moved to the podium, set down some notes, and then dove into his opening statement. “One man's word versus another's. That's all you're going to get in this case. One of those men, Sergeant Colin Shaver, sitting right here, is a fourteen-year veteran of the police force.” Sphinx moved around as he spoke, as fluid as water through a creek. He used hand flourishes, dramatic expressions. It was a good show. “He has been serving and protecting this city against its worst elements. Its cancer.” He moved toward the prosecutor.
“Now, this man wants you to believe that Sergeant Shaver, after fourteen years of service without reprimand, snapped and shot an innocent, helpless man in the chest three times. How's he going to prove that to you?” Sphinx pointed at Martinez, who Shaver had not looked at since the trial started. He did now. That little shit enraged him.
“He is going to use the testimony of this man, and this man only. He may parade some experts through here. Some serious, plain-looking expert from the State to talk about ballistics. You can't forget though, it's all about this man's word,” he said pointing at Martinez, “versus Sergeant Shaver's word.”
“Who is this man? This centerpiece of the State's case? Unlike Sergeant Shaver's fourteen years of service, Officer Martinez has six years. Unlike Sergeant Shaver's years of service without reprimand, Officer Martinez has twice been reprimanded for insubordination. Let's talk about breaking the rules while we're at it. The man that the State is going to use as the core of its case, the core of its argument that you should convict Sergeant Shaver of second degree murder, can't even follow rules. On at least two occasions, when his superiors told him what to do, he refused. More importantly, in this case he broke all of the rules.”
“There is a simple rule of law called chain of custody. You may have heard of it or seen it on television in your favorite legal dramas. The rule deals with evidence and how that evidence must be protected. Why do we have this rule? To protect people who have been accused of crimes from having tampered or inaccurate evidence presented against them. To make sure that what you see is fully accurate. Why? Because at the end of all of this,” Sphinx said with a sweep of his arm across the courtroom, “you're deciding this man's life,” he said while moving to stand behind Shaver.
“Officer Martinez broke that cardinal rule of chain of custody. He tampered with evidence related to this case. He demonstrated his comfort with breaking rules in other ways as well. Officer Martinez led a group of vigilantes, including his criminal brother-in-law from Mexico and the man you see sitting next to him, Cruz Marquez, to Sergeant Shaver's house. As if hunting prey, he cornered Sergeant Shaver in his house and then nearly killed him while trying to take him into custody!” Sphinx had strewn together those sentences in excitement and ended almost out of breath. “There is a process we use when apprehending alleged criminals, ladies and gentlemen. A process guaranteed to us by the laws of this country! It's called a warrant! Officer Martinez was willing to violate that rule of law as well!”
Sphinx stopped to take a drink from his water glass. It was also a moment for absorption, to let the weight of his words fall over the jurors. He pulled at one of the cuffs on his suit jacket and then set the glass down. Another tremor from outside the courtroom made the water in his glass ripple.
“It's fitting, isn't it, that there's so much chaos outside. Chaos is what marked the indefensible hunt for Sergeant Shaver. Much like the crazed crowds that howled around the burning corpse of an accused witch, the State is on a witch hunt for Sergeant Shaver. There is no proof that Sergeant Shaver committed any crime. There is no certainty as to what gun, of the five officers that were at the scene, shot Livan Rodriguez. The State has to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt, and this case is chock-full of doubt. On your verdict form, 'no' to second degree murder.” Sphinx returned to his seat and leaned back.
“I don't think they have a chance,” he said to Shaver.
* * * *
Sandra stood on the courthouse steps and looked at the swell of flesh below her. She pulled a long, black wisp of hair away from her face and adjusted the collar on her suit jacket. The crowd stretched two blocks back, and covered every square inch of the park in that area. She had never seen anything like this. Four rows of police in riot gear positioned themselves at the bottom of the courthouse steps. The sun was halfway to the horizon and splashed shadows along the buildings encircling the park.
The crowd of people went crazy when she came out of the courthouse. She almost turned back to go inside, but Cruz was right behind her. Sandra noticed that his tie was loosened and the sleeves of his shirt were pulled up his arms. He pointed to an area for disabled people at the front of the mass of people. It was too loud for them to communicate clearly. They got to the designated area which was actually full of reporters. Each of the reporters was desperately trying to report above the screams of the crowd.
Two separate chants were going, sometimes audible individually but usually a muddled slur of indecipherable vowels. “Gas the pig” and “Free Shaver.” A reporter tried to grab Sandra by her arm but Cruz deflected the man's hand. He put his body to her side and shielded her through the crowd. They finally got through and took a minute to survey the mass. People were still arriving. Their sheer number was daunting. It seemed that at any moment the thin thread of civility that existed could break and send the crowd into a state of bedlam.
The police set up a makeshift headquarters comprised of an enormous white tent. Officers surrounded the tent, as if under attack. They carried automatic weapons and many of them had gas masks hanging from their belts. Body armor protected their arms, legs and chests.
“This is ridiculous,” Sandra said to Cruz, still having to raise her voice to be heard.
His face looked excited. “This is amazing! Look at all these people.” He stood in the middle of a road that had been blocked off, with his arms crossed, analyzing.
“I never would have imagined...” Sandra started.
“Me either. I just can't believe all these people are here. There must be fifteen thousand people—I don't know. I've never seen a gathering like this.” Someone came up to them and asked where the “anti-Shaver” groups were. Cruz pointed them in the right direction.
“Let's walk to the news station. I've got to get back there to deliver my report.”
“Have you ever seen coverage like this? By the way, where's Martinez?”
“I thought he was behind you?”
“Hmm, maybe he stayed inside,” Cruz said. “So, have you ever seen this many people? This many news stations?”
“I've never seen this many. I bet there are around a hundred different stations there.” They churned against a steady flow of people.
“It's especially telling that people are still walking there,” Cruz said as he turned around and took a couple of steps backwards. “It's five-thirty! These people look like they're going to stay overnight.” Indeed, some people were carrying sleeping bags, pots, and tents stuffed into tight little sacks. “Hold on—look at this.” Sandra stopped and turned around too. She saw a head bobbing through the crowd, coming at them. It was Martinez. He reached them out of breath.
“Christ,” is all he managed to say between breathes. His hair was crazed and puffy, and the suit jacket hanging in his hand scraped the ground as he bent over.
“Yeah, you've got quite a stage, Martinez.”
“You guys missed it. The judge is crazy.” Martinez stood up straight and put his hands over his head. “That damn crowd was hard to fight through.”
“Wait, what did the judge do?”
“He shortened the trial.”
“What?!”
“Yep. He must have seen what was going outside. A few minutes after he left the bench and you guys split, he came back out. He said that due to the circumstances, he was shortening the trial to two days. He talked to Mason an
d the other attorney about what witnesses they each have. Mason said just me and one expert. The other attorney said just Shaver. I think that kind of surprised Mason.”
“So then he shortened the trial to two days? You mean, two days after today?”
“No! Two days as in, today was the first. He said that we would get through the three witnesses tomorrow and then do closings. The attorneys are still there with the judge working on jury instructions. Mason said he would call you in a few hours, but that he didn't anticipate getting out of the courthouse until about nine o'clock.”
“Can the judge do that?” Sandra asked. She was walking in front of the men to make sure they didn't run into anyone. They were completely engrossed in the conversation.
“Absolutely,” Cruz answered. “If it isn't going to prejudice either of the parties, then the judge can do it. So Sphinx said he's going to call Shaver?” Martinez nodded. “That's rare.” They reached the front of the news station and stopped in a circle, looking at each other. “Are you ready?” Cruz asked Martinez.
“Ready? All I'm gonna do is tell the truth. Mason and I went through my examination a lot. I know what Sphinx is going to beat me up on. Shit, we heard all about it in his opening. None of that changes what Shaver did.”
“Guys, I've really got to get inside. This is probably going to be the biggest report of my life.” They had walked several blocks away from the courthouse.
“Can we come in and watch?” Cruz asked.
“I'd love that,” Sandra said with a look of relief on her face.
“Actually, I've got to get some food and then rest,” Martinez said. He gave Sandra a hug and wished her good luck. Then he walked away, moving sideways in the thinning crowd of people.
* * * *
Tawny sat in the jury deliberation room with everyone else. It was a meager step above the waiting room they had been in that morning. People were starting to get restless. Her stomach grumbled. Six o'clock and they hadn't heard anything from the judge. He told them they had to stay because of “developments.”
