A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,157

would be in no hurry. He might even allow the lawyers to meet privately with a person on the list to probe even deeper. Each side would have twelve peremptory challenges, or rejections for no cause at all. If Jake didn’t like the sneer on a person’s face, he could cut her for no reason. These, though, were valuable, and had to be used with great discretion.

Any juror could be challenged for cause. If your husband was a police officer, so long. If you were related to the victim, hit the door. If you could not consider a death verdict, bye-bye. If you had been the victim of domestic violence, it was best if you didn’t serve. The fiercest fights were always over who to cut for cause. If the judge agreed that a person might not be impartial for a reason, then he dismissed him or her without burning either side’s peremptory challenges.

It had been Jake’s experience that most people, once they were subpoenaed and had gone to the trouble of showing up for selection, actually wanted to serve on the jury. This was especially true in the more rural areas where trials were rare and offered a little drama. However, when the death penalty was in play, virtually no one wanted to get near the jury box.

The longer he looked at the list, the more he became convinced that he could throw darts at it and take any twelve. As long as he got Rodney Cote.

Harry Rex thundered in Friday afternoon and said they needed a break. Portia was exhausted and Jake sent her home. He locked his office and insisted on driving. He and Harry Rex climbed into his shiny new Impala and, without stopping for beer, drove to Chester for a bit of recon. Along the way they argued trial strategy and scenarios. Harry Rex had become convinced that Noose would probably declare a mistrial when Kiera told the jury who had impregnated her, assuming that Dyer was caught off guard. Jake disagreed, though he was not completely confident he could pull off the ambush. At some point Monday morning, probably before they began jury selection, Dyer would want to meet with Kiera to go over her testimony once again. She was over seven months pregnant and that would be impossible to conceal.

They discussed putting Drew on the witness stand. Jake had spent hours with him and was still not sure the kid could withstand a brutal cross-examination. Harry Rex was adamant in his belief that the defendant should never testify.

It was Friday, and the courthouse was clearing out. They removed their coats and ties and made it upstairs to the courtroom without being noticed. Inside, they were surprised to feel cool air. Noose’s new window units were running at full speed and not making much noise. They would probably work overtime through the weekend. The courtroom had been cleaned thoroughly, not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere. Two painters were hard at work adding a fresh coat of white enamel while another was on his knees brushing the woodwork around the bench with a new finish.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Harry Rex mumbled. “This place has never looked so good.”

The faded oil portraits of dead judges and politicians had been removed, no doubt sent to the basement where they belonged, and the bare walls gleamed with shiny new paint. The ancient pews had been refinished. Twelve new chairs with comfortable cushions were in the jury box. The large overhanging balcony had been cleared of neglected filing cabinets and storage boxes, replaced with two rows of rented chairs.

“Noose is spending some money on the place,” Jake whispered.

“About time. I guess it’s his big moment, too. Looks like he’s expecting a crowd.” They had no desire to see the judge and after a few minutes headed for the door. Jake stopped for another look and realized that his stomach was in knots.

Before his first jury trial, Lucien had said, “If you’re not nervous as hell when you walk into that courtroom, then you’re not ready.” Before the Hailey trial, Jake had locked himself in a toilet next to the jury room and vomited.

Down the hallway, Harry Rex stepped into a restroom. He emerged moments later and said, “Well, I’ll be damned. The commodes are actually flushing. Looks like old Ichabod has really cracked the whip around here.”

They left the town and headed east, in no hurry to go anywhere. When they crossed into Ford