Save Your Breath (Morgan Dane #6) - Melinda Leigh Page 0,6

too. The case against him had been solid. He could have received twenty-five years rather than life in prison. He was only thirty-two. He would have had some years left after his sentence had been served. Convicted, he’d been sentenced to life without parole.

Mrs. Olander’s lips puckered. “Because the jury foreman didn’t disclose the fact that she’d been a victim of domestic violence.”

“How do you know this?” Morgan made a note on her legal pad.

“She was interviewed last week.” Mrs. Olander’s chin came up. “The TV show host did a better job of researching her background than the court.”

The court did not research every juror’s background. Prospective jurors filled out a brief questionnaire and were questioned during jury selection in a process known as voir dire.

“Being a domestic violence victim would not automatically disqualify her from serving on the jury,” Morgan explained.

A deep, despondent frown dragged at Mrs. Olander’s mouth. “Well, it should.” Her eyes misted. “How could she possibly have been fair to my Erik?”

While a juror with a personal history of domestic violence might identify with Natalie, it was hardly a given. The situation wasn’t as cut and dried as Mrs. Olander thought. She’d probably watched too many episodes of Law and Order. In real life, courtrooms were far less dramatic.

“The juror would have been asked if there was anything in her background that would make her incapable of being impartial,” Morgan said.

“Clearly she lied.” Mrs. Olander blotted her eyes with the tissue again. “My son’s conviction should be overturned.”

“It’s not that simple. Even if the juror’s background did prove to be grounds for appeal, the best possible outcome for Erik would be a new trial. The court would not just set him free.”

Mrs. Olander’s shoulders caved in. “Well, it should. The woman concealed her background. If that isn’t enough to overturn his conviction, what is?”

“There are no perfect juries,” Morgan said. “This is understood by the court. Every person who serves on a jury brings a lifetime of experience with them. The court asks only that jurors enter each case with open minds and base their decisions solely on the evidence presented at trial.”

“That’s not right!” Mrs. Olander spat out the words. “How can a prejudiced juror not be grounds for appeal?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t grounds for appeal, only that it wasn’t a certainty. How long ago did the juror’s domestic abuse allegedly occur?”

“I don’t remember exactly.” Mrs. Olander rubbed the brass clasp of her purse with her thumb. “Maybe twenty years or so. What does it matter?”

“That’s a long time ago. The juror may have truly believed she could be impartial.”

“That’s impossible.”

Is Mrs. Olander speaking from personal experience?

Morgan let it go and changed the subject. “What is your financial situation? Erik’s defense must have been costly.”

“Yes. It was.” Mrs. Olander’s frown nearly met her jawline, and her swollen eyes were bleak. “And business hasn’t been good for years. Small farms like ours are being squeezed out of the market. Only the big operations can survive.”

“You sold the farm.”

Mrs. Olander nodded. “We took out a mortgage to pay for Erik’s initial defense, but it wasn’t enough. We couldn’t keep up with the new attorney bills and make the mortgage payments. We’re behind on everything. We’ve lived in that house for twenty-five years, but the truth is the cows barely earned enough to feed themselves. We have to move out soon. I thought I’d care, but I don’t.”

“Appeals involve large amounts of legal research and the writing of long, intricate briefs, which translates to many billable hours. An appeal would be expensive.”

Mrs. Olander’s eyes were desperate. “My son is sitting in a prison cell, and he will remain there for the rest of his life unless we do something.”

As much as Morgan sympathized, mother to mother, the case wasn’t right for her. She opened her desk drawer and withdrew a small notepad. On it, she wrote the name of a larger legal firm in the area. They occasionally referred clients back and forth, depending on the circumstances. Some clients were better served by a one-lawyer shop, like Morgan’s. Others—like Erik Olander’s appeal—required a full staff of clerks.

Also, Mrs. Olander’s seeming lack of grief for her daughter-in-law seemed off to Morgan. Everything about the woman felt wrong. Morgan’s instincts said Erik Olander had killed his wife in a fit of rage, exactly as the prosecutor—and the evidence—had described.

She tore the paper from the pad and offered it to Mrs. Olander. “Appeals aren’t the sort of cases I usually