The Justice Game (36 page)

    But if Luthor knew things about these jurors that would make them favorable to Jason’s case, why hadn’t he provided details? Face it, the whole thing was dirty. Had to be. Luthor was blackmailing Jason. Chances were good that he was blackmailing these jurors as well. Even if he was blackmailing them for Jason’s benefit, wasn’t Jason now a party to Luthor’s fraud by not reporting Luthor’s e-mails?

    And what if Luthor was blackmailing the jurors to get a decision for the plaintiff? If Jason allowed the jurors to stay on, the web of lies he had started ten years ago would ensnare another victim—Jason’s client.

    On the other hand, he couldn’t even bear to think about the consequences of the truth being exposed after all these years. What would he say to Bella? What about LeRon’s family—Jason had compounded their grief by making them think their own son had been driving. Why open those old wounds again? And then there were the legal ramifications. Even for a decade-old cover-up, he could be disbarred—maybe even do jail time.

    Virginia required unanimous jury verdicts. Even if Jason allowed Jurors 3 and 7 to stay on the case, they couldn’t decide it on their own. Two jurors couldn’t sway the panel if Jason had the others firmly in his camp.

    He couldn’t tell anything from their faces. Both jurors just sat there impassively, answering the judge’s questions, avoiding eye contact with Jason and everyone else seated at counsel’s table. A few other jurors were dismissed for cause, and Jason was pretty sure that both Juror 3 and Juror 7 would now be on Andrew’s list of recommended strikes.

    In a few hours, it would be time to choose.

At 4:30, Judge Garrison ran out of questions and relinquished his starring role to the lawyers. About half the jury panel had already been eliminated for cause. Jurors 3 and 7 had made the initial cut and would be on the final panel of thirteen. The only thing that would keep them from serving on the jury would be if Kelly or Jason used one of their three preemptory challenges to excuse them or asked questions that revealed a bias.

    Kelly went first and did her best to goad the gun lovers on the jury into saying something inflammatory so she could get them kicked off for cause. She also pitched some softball questions to her favorite jurors so they could again reiterate how fair and impartial they intended to be.

    When it was Jason’s turn, he took the occasion to argue his case in the form of questions. If he could show that his client had done nothing illegal, would they be able to put aside their sympathies and render a defense verdict? Did they understand that just because guns can be dangerous, it doesn’t mean that you hold the manufacturer responsible for everything that happens with that gun? Even if you don’t agree with the Second Amendment, are you willing to follow it as the law of our land?

    Neither lawyer was able to reveal any serious prejudice that would disqualify other jurors. When they had finished asking their questions, Judge Garrison gave them an opportunity to huddle with their respective clients to see if they had missed anything.

    “Any more questions?” Garrison asked after a few minutes.

    “No, sir,” Kelly said.

    Jason stood. “Just one.”

    Garrison sighed and told Jason to proceed.

    Jason walked to the front of the jury box and gave them another smile. “Judge Garrison and the lawyers have asked you a lot of questions today, and Judge Garrison has explained, in general terms, what this case is about. I was just wondering, before we get started, what questions you might have for us.”

    “What?” asked Kelly, immediately on her feet. “I object.”

    Jason turned toward a red-faced Judge Garrison. “Get up here,” the judge barked.

    When they reached his bench, the judge leaned toward Jason. “What was that stunt?
We
ask the questions during
voir dire,
not the jury. How many cases have you tried?”

    Jason spread his palms. “I thought the whole point of
voir dire
was to find out about the jurors. What better way than to see what questions they have? I wasn’t going to answer them—but Ms. Starling and I would be fools not to govern our case accordingly.”

    Kelly was flabbergasted. “Judge,” she stammered, as if the absurdity of it was so plain that she couldn’t find words to describe it. “I mean… that’s ridiculous.”

    “I agree,” Judge Garrison said. “Return to your counsel tables.”

    Jason and Kelly did as they were told and Garrison turned to the jury. “Mr. Noble is not allowed to solicit questions from you at this stage,” Garrison said. “Hopefully, all your questions will be answered during the presentation of evidence.”

    From the looks on their faces, Jason could tell that the jury was at least grateful he had asked. One thing he had learned from interviewing jurors at Justice Inc. was their frustration at never getting to ask their own questions. If they were such a critical part of the trial process, why didn’t anybody care what they thought?

    At least now, they knew that Jason cared.

    When Jason sat down, Case McAllister leaned over and whispered one word.

    “Brilliant.”

The bailiff approached Kelly Starling and handed her the list of thirteen remaining jurors. She checked some notes, whispered to Blake, and crossed a name from the list.

    The bailiff brought the list to Jason. He huddled with Andrew Lassiter on one side and Case McAllister on the other. Not surprisingly, Kelly had struck the highest-rated juror, putting the symbol for “plaintiff” next to her mark. “That one was a no-brainer,” Andrew whispered. He pointed to Juror 2 and shrugged. “Here’s our no-brainer.”

    Juror 2 was an African American principal who had demonstrated a distaste for big corporations that made money from a culture of violence and death. Jason had tried to get him dismissed for cause but the man swore he would keep an open mind.

    Jason looked at Case, who nodded his assent. The principal was sent packing.

    Kelly and her client took considerably longer with their next strike. When the bailiff returned with the sheet and Jason saw the line through Juror 9, he was somewhat surprised. Lassiter’s system had at least four jurors ranked higher.

    “That’s great!” Andrew exclaimed. His voice was a whisper but loud enough that Kelly probably overheard.

    “Shhh,” Jason cautioned.

    “They don’t get this stuff,” Andrew whispered excitedly. “They should never have struck number nine.”

    Andrew pointed to the next obvious strike for Jason—Juror 3. To Jason’s chagrin, he saw that Juror 3 and Juror 7 now had the two lowest remaining scores.

    “I can’t strike him yet,” Jason whispered. “I’d get a Batson challenge.”

    Case law prohibited lawyers from basing their strikes on a juror’s race. If a lawyer’s opponent raised a Batson challenge, the lawyer making the strike would have to articulate a legitimate reason for making the strike that was not race-related.

    “You’ve got race-neutral reasons,” Andrew insisted. “He’s got to go.”

    “Do him third,” Case suggested. “Get rid of Juror 7 next.”

    Jason squirmed for a second and considered his options. He looked at Jurors 3 and 7—no overt hostility showed on either face. Maybe he was just looking for a reason to keep these two jurors on the panel, but he was starting to think it was worth a gamble.

    Justice Inc. had orchestrated Jason’s hiring in the first place. Then an anonymous source named Luthor had helped Jason find a valuable expert. Now this same Luthor was suggesting that Jason keep these two jurors on the panel.

    The MO had all the markings of Justice Inc. Inside information about the jurors and about Jason himself. The company certainly had a huge financial incentive for influencing this case. The only thing that didn’t fit was the threat of blackmail. Justice Inc. liked to skirt around the edge of the law, but Jason never thought they would stoop to something so blatantly illegal.

    Jason looked at the sheet again. The juror with the lowest score, other than Jurors 3 and 7, was Juror 12. Jason pointed to her name. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about her.”

    “What?” Andrew whispered. “We’ve been through this. Put your
feelings
aside.”

    “I’m not a robot,” Jason protested. “I’ve got to have jurors I can connect with.”

    Andrew responded with a string of statistics from the focus groups, the importance of this factor versus that factor. “She’s a bona fide bumper-sticker liberal,” he pleaded, pointing to Juror 7. “Get rid of her with this strike and Juror 3 with your next one.”

    The bailiff was hovering over the table, his arms crossed. The entire courtroom waiting with bated breath.

    “Give me that sheet,” Case said. “We look like the Three Stooges.”

    He turned to Jason. “You sure about this?”

    Jason looked at the table.
No.
“Yes,” he said softly.

    Case struck a line through Juror 12, putting the defense symbol next to it. “I hired
you
to defend my company,” he said. “Not some computer program.”

    When the bailiff brought the sheet back for the third strike, Andrew Lassiter didn’t say a word. “I’m sorry, Andrew,” Jason said, striking out the name of Juror 11.

    When Jason handed the sheet back to the bailiff, Andrew closed his laptop. For a moment, Jason thought his friend would walk out of the courtroom right in the middle of the jury-selection process.

    If he had, Jason wouldn’t really blame him. Jason had just flushed weeks of work and thousands of dollars down the drain. The truth was, he did have a bad feeling about the last two jurors he had struck.

    But the deeper truth, the one that made him sick to his own stomach, was that Jurors 3 and 7 would have been gone if not for Luthor’s e-mail. Perhaps he had stacked the odds against himself, perhaps not. Hopefully he could still pull it out. Or, in a worst-case scenario, at least get a hung jury.

    Because Case had gone to bat for him, Jason was more determined than ever to try his hardest. Maybe in the process, Jason could expose Luthor and whoever was behind this attempt to manipulate the justice system.

    Or perhaps these were just the rationalizations of a traitor. MD Firearms had hired Jason to defend them. On the first day of trial, he had been too busy defending himself.

Judge Garrison gave the jury another stiff lecture about not discussing the case with anyone, then dismissed the panel and invited the lawyers back to his chambers. When they arrived, Garrison took off his black robe and motioned toward two unoccupied chairs.

    “We’re off to a good start. But, Mr. Noble?”

    “Sir?”

    “We could have done without your asking the jury that question.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “You don’t have any stunts cooked up for tomorrow, do you?”

    “Not yet.”

    Garrison had been glancing through some papers on his desk but the comment stopped him cold. “Say what?”

    “Just a little humor, sir.”

    “Yes, well . . . let’s try to keep this thing on track and keep the showmanship to a minimum.”

    Jason wanted to ask if that applied to judges as well, but he let it go. For the next few minutes, they discussed scheduling matters and how long the case might take.

    “Have the parties discussed settlement?” Judge Garrison asked.

    Kelly responded first. “My client’s not willing to settle. It’s a matter of principle.”

    “Yes, yes, I’ve heard that a few times.” He turned to Jason. “Why don’t you put some money on the table so we can find out how much those principles cost?”

    “I’m sorry, Judge. For my client, it’s a matter of money—and she’s not willing to pay any.”

    Garrison sighed. “Well then, be ready to start opening statements at nine.”

    After he warned the lawyers not to make any inflammatory comments to the press, he sent them on their way.

    Kelly stopped Jason in the hallway and handed him a manila folder.

    “These are some documents responsive to your discovery requests,” she said. The look on Jason’s face must have telegraphed his suspicion at not receiving them earlier. “Before you blow a gasket, you should know I just received them myself,” Kelly continued. “Most lawyers wouldn’t even produce them to you—they would just surprise you with them on cross-examination.”

    “Cross-examination of whom?” asked Jason.

    “The documents speak for themselves,” Kelly said.

    Jason ignored reporters on his way out of the courthouse and walked straight to his truck. When he opened the truck door, it felt like a blast furnace inside. He threw his suit coat over the passenger seat and loosened his tie.

    He started the air-conditioning, braced himself for the worst, and opened the manila folder. He perused the bank documents—an offshore account under Ed Poole’s name—and the pages of cell phone records.

    Jason didn’t recognize any of the phone numbers and didn’t understand the full significance of the offshore account, but he did know one thing—if Kelly Starling intended to use the documents on cross-examination, they must be bad.

    Which in turn led to another sickening conclusion—Luthor had set Jason up. Jason’s main expert witness had a serious Achilles’ heel. Luthor had undoubtedly known about it all along. And now, like an idiot, Jason had dug an even deeper hole by keeping Luthor’s suggested jurors on the panel.

    He cursed and pounded a fist on the dash. Why hadn’t he seen this coming?

    Perhaps because he didn’t want to see it. He was so intent on keeping his past a secret that he had closed his eyes to the obvious and stepped right into the middle of Luthor’s trap.

    A tap on the window shook Jason out of the fog. He looked at Case McAllister and rolled down his window.

    “You okay?” asked Case. “You look a little peaked.”

    “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

Kelly Starling didn’t check her phone messages until she was on her way to the Hilton Oceanfront hotel, her temporary headquarters for the next two weeks. Sometimes being part of a big firm had its privileges.