Cheers erupted again.
"Also on my side is the Catholic Church." T. J. turned and shook the hand of the Bishop. "While my followers and those of the Pope may occasionally have our differences, when we are faced with a common enemy, we put aside our differences and unite." He again grabbed the hand of the Bishop and, this time, raised it in the air as if they had already won the battle. "We will rally here on Monday morning and march to the trial. On that day let your voices be heard. The nation will be watching!"
As the crowd was breaking up, the CNN camera turned to two reporters covering the trial, "So, John, how do you rate this, the opening shot of The Chosen?"
"Peter, I've got to tell you that I am overwhelmed with the size of the crowd. That he could summon what must be ten thousand people, including the Bishop, is amazing. With those comments about lions and dragons and tigers, he obviously sees himself as Sir Lancelot, his armor polished and ready for battle. He and J. Robert Tisdale should make quite a force."
***
The camera panned to the crowd as they drifted off and then faded into another crowd, this one a rally for the pro-choice forces. When they learned what T. J. was doing, they decided to do likewise, only they chose the heart of the Houston medical center as their site, right in front of Baylor College of Medicine. If a rally had ever been held there before, it was unknown to anyone in attendance. In fact, if the Medical Center Police had known that it was to occur, they would have tried to stop the rally, but it formed quietly and quickly. First, a few people gathered on the sidewalk. Then more filled the parking lots and soon overflowed into the streets to be joined shortly by the media. TV vans and helicopters converged as the press learned about the pro-choice rally not far from where T. J. had assembled his forces. Not as big as T. J.'s rally, it easily topped one thousand.
The location of the pro-choice rally, with the crowd surrounded by medical facilities that were among the finest in the world, was a carefully planned decision. The subliminal message was that abortion was okay. It was taught here. Abortions were done here and, as one speaker said, if it were not for Roe v. Wade, these hospitals would be overflowing with victims of back-alley abortions.
A CNN commentator observed, "The effect is dramatic and the message is clear."
CHAPTER 60
It was Wednesday morning, five days before trial. Judge O'Reilly had moved her courtroom to the South Texas College of Law Auditorium. She got there at seven-thirty so that she could survey the accommodations and make some decisions. Like most Houston lawyers, she had been there on many occasions, usually for seminars. Sometimes she spoke. More often, she listened to lectures on new developments in law, evidence and procedure. She knew that the occasional trial was held in this auditorium, yet she had never really viewed it as a courtroom. Looking down from the highest row of seats, there were three sections. The middle section looked like it would hold about three hundred people and the two other sections, probably two hundred apiece. Beside her and to her right was the audio-visual booth. Cameras had been mounted on each wall close to the bottom where the "courtroom" would be. She concluded that the participants would soon ignore the cameras and focus on the drama that was about to play out in this hall. She walked slowly down the stairs to the multipurpose stage, now configured as a courtroom, complete with her elevated bench, a witness stand, and a jury box, at her request designed to hold fourteen jurors, twelve plus two alternates. In front of the bench were two long tables surrounded by comfortable padded chairs. Against one wall was a screen that could be used as a television or to display exhibits.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned and looked to where the audience would be. She had told the administrative judge that she would need a two hundred-person panel. At first Judge Hardman thought she must have been joking. After a short conversation, he agreed with her assessment. They would lose close to half of the jurors at the start because they held strong pro-life or pro-choice views and would certainly not be objective. Until the jury was picked, she would use the first rows in the middle section for the panel and the remainder of the auditorium would be for whomever showed up first, press or public. The press wouldn't like the fact that she showed them no favoritism. The bailiffs would give a number to each person who asked to observe. The number would be surrendered when he or she entered the auditorium. When they were out of numbers they were out of seats. She thanked Southwest Airlines for the idea.
After jury selection, the middle section would be reserved for the public with the press occupying the two side sections. Ruby tried the judge's chair on for size, twirled around in it once, and pronounced it satisfactory. As she surveyed her bench, she glanced at a television monitor, which she assumed was placed there so that she would always know what picture was being broadcast to the rest of the world. As she evaluated the silent auditorium, she contemplated the decisions she had made thus far in this case and the ones that lay before her. She anticipated certain issues and would be faced with them in about an hour. There were the other issues, the evidence and procedural decisions that she could not even anticipate that could, conceivably, make or break the case for either side. In her mind an image surfaced of Ruby in referee's stripes in charge at the Super Bowl, the world's attention focused on the game. She was in the middle with giant, violent men running by her from all directions. When she blew her whistle, they all stopped and stared with rapt attention. Whatever her ruling, it would stand. There would be no instant replay.
The second person to enter the courtroom was an old man. Hobbled with arthritis and needing the assistance of a cane, he was thin, stoop-shouldered, completely bald, and wore wire-rimmed glasses perched on a small nose. Judge O'Reilly knew him personally, as did most of the judges in the courthouse complex. Retired for a number of years, he found his entertainment not from television, sporting events, or the theater, but instead from the live drama of the courthouse. Usually, on Monday morning he would show up in the jury assembly room and visit with the bailiffs who were waiting to escort jury panels to waiting judges. He would circulate among them, asking about the trials that were starting in their various courts. Once he conducted his survey, he would hobble off to the chosen court, find a place on the back row and observe jury selection and opening statements. If he found the trial to his liking, he would be in the back row every day, watching the drama unfold. The local trial lawyers called him by name and respected his opinions about how a trial was going, how the evidence was being received and which side was winning. Tod had tried several cases with him in daily attendance, and almost every day he would sit down beside him and seek his advice.
Judge O'Reilly greeted him as he appeared at the top of the auditorium, "Good morning, Mr. Buschbahm. I am now convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will have the best show in town. You're even showing up for pre-trial. Should I be flattered or worried?"
Mr. Buschbahm smiled and spoke in a soft voice. "Perhaps neither, or perhaps both, Judge O'Reilly. Time will tell. Certainly, I have never had the pleasure of observing a trial with so much publicity. I presume that there will be reporters and such. Is there a particular place where I should sit?"
Judge O'Reilly outlined her seating plans and added, "Mr. Buschbahm, there is no reserved seating for this trial, although, Lord knows, the press wants them. If anyone deserves a reserved seat, it's you. So, if you'll pick your seat, I'll tell my bailiff to make sure that seat is empty each day until you arrive. That'll have to be our little secret."
"I'll not be a blabbermouth, Judge, and I appreciate it. If it's okay with you, I'll just take one of these aisle seats on the back row so I won't have to climb up and down those stairs. My arthritic knees and stairs just don't get along anymore."
The first lawyer in the courtroom, as she now called the auditorium, was Wayne Littlejohn. Tod had ordered him to be there before eight o'clock. First come, first served. As he sat his briefcase down smack-dab in the middle of the table nearest the jury box, he spoke to Ruby. "Morning,
Judge. I'm surprised to see you here this early."
"Good morning to you, too, Wayne. I didn't sleep so well last night. Woke up early and decided I might as well get down here to survey the lay of the land in peace and quiet."
"I won't interrupt, Judge. Tod just sent me down here to grab this table. I hereby claim possession of it in the name of all that is right and good, and for Tod Duncan for the length of this trial, however long it may be."
"Hear, hear, Mr. Littlejohn," Judge O'Reilly responded, pleased to have a little levity for the occasion. "According to the unwritten rules of this county and the power vested in me, I recognize Mr. Duncan's ownership of that table for the length of time described. However, I must decline to take judicial notice that it is for all that is right and good. Impartiality must rule the day in my court."
Wayne joined her in laughter, and the judge excused herself to make some early morning phone calls, leaving Wayne to look around and disappear into his own thoughts about the biggest trial of his young career.
Shortly thereafter, the room began to fill. Even though trial was still five days away, reporters and other courthouse onlookers drifted in and took seats. Law students and a handful of lawyers joined them. Claudia arrived ten minutes behind Wayne, and seeing him at his chosen table, she sat her briefcase down on the other and settled into the chair beside him, proclaiming in mock horror, "Boy, Johnny Bob's gonna have my ass. He sent me down here to get that table. I got in all that street construction mess and then couldn't figure out where to park. How come you people didn't fix up your streets years ago? Most cities, they usually put in the streets first and then the buildings come along afterwards."
"You got me, Claudia. Some bright guy or gal figured that they would just tear up all of the downtown streets at the same time. Must be for sewers or something. Hope Johnny Bob doesn't get too big a piece of your ass. I was sent down here for the same thing. One of us had to get here first and while I'm a chivalrous guy, I'm not so much one that I'm going to give up my table."
"Well, I'm shocked, but I'd at least expect you to put your coat down if I have to walk over a puddle after one of Houston's afternoon showers."
"That, m'lady, I would proudly do. So, what's your best guess on how long we'll be here today?"
Claudia replied, "Best guess is all day. We've got a bunch of issues and then we've got to talk about jury selection."
As the two opposing lawyers discussed the events to come, a reporter approached them. Victoria Burton was in her late twenties, slender with short blond hair, and dressed in a conservative gray suit. While not exactly movie star beautiful, she was not far from it. She introduced herself, "Excuse me, may I join you? I know your names already. I'm Victoria Burton. I'll be covering the trial for Court TV as well as doing some commentary for NBC."
Wayne gestured with his hand, offering her a seat with them. "Please do sit down, Victoria. Just for good measure, let me introduce myself. I'm Wayne Littlejohn and this is Claudia St. John Jackson. How long have you been with Court TV?"
Victoria sat at the table opposite them, laid her leather bound notebook on the table and responded. "I joined them two years ago. Graduated from Georgetown law school and clerked for two years for the Eleventh Circuit. I had a chance to do this or practice law and chose this. So far, it's working pretty well. If I think I've got a shot at shoving Diane Sawyer or Katie Couric aside, I may stay with it. Otherwise, I may join a law firm in a couple of years. However, if I could trade places with one of you at the counsel table on this one, I'd do it right now."
"Well, honey, they aren't all like this one," Claudia replied.
"Believe me, I know. I've covered some trials that would make taking the bar exam exciting by comparison. Listen, I understand the judge has lifted her gag order. Can I get the two of you on record and in front of the camera from time to time?"
"Victoria, from our side, you know that's gonna have to be Tod's call, and I suspect that Claudia will tell you the same about Johnny Bob," Wayne answered. As he spoke, there was a murmur from the gathering audience as Johnny Bob entered the doorway at the top of the auditorium, followed by Tod and Jan with their legal assistants close behind. As they approached the floor of the courtroom, Johnny Bob asked, "All right, who got here first and won the choice seats?"
Claudia looked a little sheepish and slumped into her seat as she motioned to the empty table. "I'm afraid that I got stacked up in that street construction, Johnny Bob. That's our table over there."
"Well, that's okay. I suspect I can make myself heard from there. Who's this pretty little lady?"
"Mr. Tisdale, I'm Victoria Burton with Court TV. I was just visiting with these other lawyers. I'd like to have the chance to spend a little time with you, Mr. Duncan, and Ms. Akers, just by way of background, and I'd like to get you all in front of the camera from time to time."
Johnny Bob walked over to his table, sat a big briefcase on it and responded, "Victoria, I suspect that the American public is going to see more of us than they want before this trial is over. If they haven't had their fill and if you want an interview from time to time, you can find me. Same probably goes for Tod and Jan."
"All rise." The bailiff and the entrance of Judge O'Reilly interrupted them. Victoria Burton returned to her place in the audience, and Judge O'Reilly told the entire group to have a seat.
"My, my, I've never seen such a crowd for a pre-trial and I understand that the cameras are rolling even today. Are you gentlemen and ladies ready to proceed?"
Johnny Bob was still taking papers out of his briefcase, but he looked up and responded, "Ms. Jackson and I are ready, Your Honor."
"If I may speak for Ms. Akers, we're also ready," Tod added.
"Very well, we'll proceed as follows. I've got a few instructions for everyone assembled. Then, we'll talk about the jury and we'll save motions in limine until the last since I know they will take some considerable time. If you folks in the audience would also listen to this, I suspect we'll have a full house every day. I've never presided over a trial where several hundred people will be in the audience. I must insist on absolute silence. That also means that you turn off pagers and cell phones when you enter. If one goes off during trial, it will be confiscated and you can pick it up when the trial is over. Because the audience is so large, once we start in the morning, no one will be permitted to enter until the mid-morning break and the same applies after each break and at lunch. I want to minimize distractions as much as possible and I'm not going to have people wandering in and out like you're at a movie theater. If you leave for any reason, you're out until the next break. Understood?
"I've added an additional three bailiffs to make sure that we keep order in here. Deputy Johnson here is my regular bailiff, and if you look around the room you'll see three other deputies, stationed at various places in the auditorium." Deputy Johnson stood beside the bench. A large, young black man, he had played linebacker for Texas A&M and was now in his third year of law school, taking night classes in that very building. He considered himself privileged to be able to work his way through law school by observing trials, never considering that he would be involved in one like this. While he maintained a solemn countenance beside the judge, he mentally waved to the camera and shouted, "Hi, Mom."
"Now let's talk about jury selection. I've asked Judge Hardman to call two hundred jurors to the jury assembly room in the courthouse complex on Friday. They will be given instructions to be here at nine o'clock on Monday morning. Are you all satisfied that two hundred will be enough?"
Johnny Bob rose to his feet, "Your Honor, having never been to a goat roping like this before, I have no idea. I certainly have no reason to disagree and hope that we can get it done with two hundred."
"It'll be close, Judge," Tod commented.
Judge O'Reilly continued, "I've prepared a short questionnaire for each of the jurors to answer on Friday. We need to know in advance if any juror or a close family member has had an abortion and whether any juror
belongs to any pro-life or pro-choice organization. Anyone disagree?" Watching the lawyers shake their heads, she continued, "How long do you need to try this matter? Your estimate, Mr. Tisdale?"
"Judge, Ms. Jackson and I are mindful of the Court's admonition that this will not be another 'O. J.' trial. We think that we can do it in about four weeks."
"I agree, Judge," Tod added. "This is not the first rodeo for me or Johnny Bob. We'll get to the heart of the matter with each witness and will do our best not to waste your time."
"Ms. Akers, I don't want to leave you out. What's your thought?"
"I don't know as much about rodeos and goat ropings as these gentlemen. Of course, I do know about trials and I think four weeks will be enough."
That brought a smile from the judge and a few laughs from the audience.
"Well, I'm sure that at an appropriate time, you can get Mr. Tisdale to expound on a goat roping. Let's go to the limines."
A Motion in Limine is a pre-trial motion that is usually filed by each side in a civil lawsuit. The primary purpose of such a motion is to bring potentially controversial issues to the judge's attention in an effort to get an advance ruling that certain matters should not be brought up in front of the jury. The judge spent the rest of the day listening to the attorneys as they fought over what evidence should be admitted and excluded. Each side had some minor victories and some losses. When the last of the lawyers admitted they had nothing more to say, the judge closed the day. "I compliment all of you for your efficiency. Let's hope that the rest of the trial can go as well. Unless you think of something else between now and then, I'll see you all here at nine o'clock Monday morning. By the way, the jury information cards and questionnaires will be available at one o'clock on Friday."
As the lawyers left the building, a few picketers from both sides remained. Of more interest was the interview that Victoria Burton was doing. The camera rolled as she stood, microphone in hand, beside T. J. who was winding up the interview.
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