of it in the morning is like experiencing it fresh all over again. Why doesn’t that happen with good things?
Laurie may leave. That is a simple fact; I can’t change it. Or if I can change it, I don’t know how, which is almost as bad.
A number of months ago we talked about marriage. She didn’t feel she needed it, but loved me and was willing to marry if it was important to me. I didn’t force the issue, but what if I had? How would it impact on this situation, on her decision? Would she even consider leaving her husband behind?
But we’re not married, and I’m not her husband, so what the hell is the difference?
I know it’s immature, but the chances of my taking on Kenny Schilling’s case just went up very substantially. I need something else to think about, and the total focus and intensity of a murder case and trial are a perfect diversion.
I can feel this diversion start to take effect as I arrive at the courthouse for the arraignment. The streets surrounding the place are mobbed with press, and this will not change for the duration of the case. Clearly, the public view is that Kenny is guilty. This is true not because he is widely disliked; in fact, he’s been a fairly popular player. The fact is that the public always assumes that if someone is charged with a crime, then he or she is guilty. While our system purports to have a presumption of innocence, the public has a presumption of guilt. Unfortunately, the public makes up the jury.
I have to confess that this sentiment against Kenny also contributes to my desire to represent him. Great basketball players like Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, and Kobe Bryant have always said that what they love most is winning on the road, against the odds in hostile environments. I can’t shoot a jump shot into the Passaic River, but I know what they mean. It’s not something I’m necessarily proud of, but the legal “game” is more fun, more challenging, when I’m expected to lose.
Kevin and I meet with Kenny in an anteroom before the arraignment. He’s more composed than he was in the jail, more anxious to know what he can do to help in his own defense. I tell him to write down everything he can remember about his relationship with Troy Preston, whether or not he thinks a particular detail is important.
I describe what will take place during the arraignment. It’s basically a formality and one in which Kenny’s only role will be to plead. The rest will be up to me, although in truth my role is limited as well. This is the prosecution’s day, and Dylan will try to make as much of it as possible.
The judge who has been assigned is Susan Timmerman, who coincidentally presided over the arraignment the last time Dylan and I tangled. She is a fair, deliberate jurist who can handle sessions like today’s in her sleep. I would be quite content if she is assigned the actual trial, but that will be decided by lottery sometime down the road.
Dylan does not come over to exchange pleasantries before the session begins, and seems to avoid eye contact as well. I say “seems to” because not being an eye-contacter myself, I can’t be sure. I’m not even positive what eye contact is, but Laurie says you know it when you see it. Of course, it’s hard for me to see it, because I don’t do it.
The gallery is packed, and Kenny’s wife, Tanya, sits right behind us, a seat I assume and hope she’ll be in every day of the trial. I also see a few of Kenny’s teammates in the third row. That’s good; their abandoning him would be a major negative in the eyes of the public. And as I said, twelve members of that public are going to be the jurors in this case.
Dylan presents the charges, and I can see Kenny flinch slightly when he hears them. The State of New Jersey is charging Kenny Schilling with murder in the first degree, as well as an assortment of lesser offenses. They are also alleging special circumstances, which is New Jersey’s subtle way of saying that if it prevails, it will pay someone to stick a syringe in Kenny’s arm and kill him.
There is a slight tremor in Kenny’s voice when he proclaims himself not guilty, and I can’t say I blame him.