“Every moment of every day, we are eyewitnesses to what happens before us. Moments ago, a man got up from that chair, spoke to me, and left the court. Since there's not much else to do around here, I assume most of you watched him. You were eyewitnesses to it.”
There is a slight murmuring among the jury, as Kevin reaches under the defense table and picks up a large piece of paperboard. He hands it to me, and I bring it over to the jury, after first registering it as a defense exhibit.
The board has six photos on it of six different men. They all look vaguely similar and are all dressed alike. Any one of them could be Kevin's cousin, as long as no one was watching closely.
“One of these pictures is of the man that just spoke to me. I wonder if any of you could identify him. And if you were to try, would you also be willing to say, ‘I am so sure that was him, that I would send someone to be put to death, based on my certainty.’ ”
The look on their faces clearly reflects the fact that they have no idea which photo is the correct one, and they are afraid that they will actually be called upon to try and pick it out.
“I think not. And remember, there was no shock or excitement connected with this. You were paying attention, but nobody had a knife, no one was bleeding to death in front of you, and you weren't afraid for your lives. Do you think that would have made your job easier, or harder?”
A pause for effect. “I'd guess a lot harder.”
Many of the jurors are nodding along with me.
“Tough, huh? And just think, you were all …”
Again I beat a drumroll on the jury railing.
“… eyewitnesses.”
I don't go on much longer, mainly because I don't want to screw up a good thing. Also, Wallace hasn't gotten deeply into the specifics of the evidence to be presented, so I don't have to go into how I will refute it. If I will refute it.
When I walk back to the defense table and sit down, Willie looks positively giddy. I'm afraid he's going to give me a high five and a chest bump, but he manages to stifle the impulse. I'm going to have to talk to him about looking impassive. My guess, however, is that Lee Strasberg couldn't teach Willie to look impassive.
Hatchet decides that it's too late in the day to start calling witnesses, so he adjourns. As we are filling our briefcases, with the jury already dismissed for the day, Wallace comes up to me, a slight smile on his face.
“Upper right,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
He points to the board with the six pictures on it. “The guy who was in the courtroom is the photo in the upper right hand corner.”
The truth is, I have no idea which is the correct picture. I look to Kevin, who has heard Wallace and who obviously knows which one his cousin is. Kevin nods. Wallace is correct.
I smile. “Lucky for me you're not on the jury.”
He returns the smile. “You got that right.”
MY WAY OF WORKINGWHILE A TRIAL IS in progress is to have nightly meetings with the rest of the defense team, so that we can prepare for the next day's court session. I sometimes have these sessions at my house, but in deference to the Nicole/Laurie situation, we're meeting at the office.
I have to assume that I am still in danger; the people that broke into our house and who attacked me in the office may well strike again, perhaps with more deadly results. I probably should get a bodyguard, but the stubborn side of me is resisting it.
The ironic thing about the threats is that I'm not sure what they are warning me against. It might well be the Miller case, except for the fact that it is illogical to think a lawyer would just give up a case in mid-trial, especially since he would just be replaced by another lawyer.
Besides, if I were someone looking to get Willie reconvicted, I would want this to move along as fast as possible. The more delay, the more attention that is brought to the trial, the more chance to find exculpatory evidence.
The other possibility, of course, is the photograph. I haven't exactly been relentless in hunting this down; all