left out the most important part. The judge will say that in order to convict, you must consider Willie Miller guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. I would respectfully suggest that you are up to your ears in reasonable doubt.”
I walk over to Willie and put my hands on his shoulders.
“This man has spent the last seven years of his life on death row for a crime he did not commit. All of us can only imagine the horror of that, but he has lived it.
“It is not your fault, you had nothing to do with it, and you cannot erase it. But there is something you can do: You can end it. You can give him back his dignity, and his self-respect, and his freedom.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you can go into that jury room, and you can do something absolutely wonderful. You can give Willie Miller his life back.”
I go back to the defense table, to the whispered congratulations of Laurie and Kevin, and the gratitude of Willie. I'm filled with a fear that I did not do or say enough to make the jury understand, and I want to get back up there and scream at them, to make them see the truth according to Andy Carpenter.
Hatchet gives the jury his instructions. My feeling is that he puts too much emphasis on the jury not considering the guilt or innocence of Victor Markham, but basically I think it's fair.
Actually, I'm pleased with Hatchet's performance throughout; I don't think he showed a preference to one side or the other. All in all, I'm glad he turned down the change of venue request.
Hatchet sends the jury off, and this case is officially out of my control. Before they take Willie away, he asks me what I think, and I tell him what I tell all my clients at this stage.
“I don't think, I wait.”
THE PRESSURE OF WAITINGFOR a jury to finish its deliberations is unlike anything else I have ever experienced. The only thing I could liken it to, and fortunately I'm just guessing, is waiting for a biopsy report to come back, after being told that the report will either signal terminal illness or good health. At that point matters are completely out of the hands of the patient and the doctor. Lawyers experience the same impotence while waiting for a verdict.
Every eccentricity, every idiosyncrasy, every superstition I possess comes out during this waiting period. For instance, I tell myself that if the jury gives us an even chance, we will win. Therefore, I do everything by even numbers. I'll only get out of bed in the morning when the digital clock shows an even number, I'll pump an even number of gallons of gas into my car, I'll only watch even-numbered channels on television, etc., etc.
Additionally, I'll also tell myself that our cause is in the right, which I react to by doing everything right-handed, by making three right turns rather than one left, and so on. There is no doubt about it—while waiting for a verdict, I become a crazed lunatic.
Fortunately for the rest of the world, I also become a hermit. I absolutely prohibit anyone involved with the defense from contacting me unless it is an absolute emergency. I want to be alone with Tara and my thoughts, and I want to do everything I can to try and keep those thoughts away from the case and the courtroom.
The Miller deliberations enter their third day with no word from the jury. They have not asked to have any testimony read back to them; nor have they asked to examine evidence. If they had done either of these things, Hatchet would have had to notify the attorneys, and we've had no such notification.
By accident, I hear a television commentator, a “former prosecutor,” say that the lengthy deliberation is a bad sign for the defense, but I turn it off before I can hear why.
I take Tara to the park to throw a ball, bringing my cell phone along in case the court clerk needs to reach me. We play catch for only about fifteen minutes; Tara seems to be slowing down as she gets older. If there is a God, how come golden retrievers only live until their early teens?
We stop at a caf the way home, where we take an outdoor table. I have iced coffee and an apple turnover; Tara has a bagel and a dish of water. We're just finishing up when the phone rings,