Otherwise, how could they have known? Could Steven be that dumb? Could anyone be that dumb?
“Steven Timmerman is not dumb, and he is not resentful, and he is not violent. He took very little from his father, choosing instead to work his trade. It is ludicrous to think that he murdered so as to gain what he had spent so long turning down.
“Now I want to talk to you about Thomas Sykes. Thomas Sykes admits to an affair with Diana Timmerman. He was at Walter Timmerman’s house two hours before he was murdered, and his phone was used to place what can only be described as a suspicious call to Steven Timmerman, the first time he had ever called him.
“And Thomas Sykes stood to make eighty million dollars if Walter and Diana Timmerman died. But he would make that only if Steven Timmerman were not in a position to claim his rightful inheritance. What a coincidence.
“And, ladies and gentlemen, sometimes all the facts are not readily available, and the ones that are can only take you so far. So you have to go with your gut feelings about people and the way they act.
“Thomas Sykes looked like a deer caught in the headlights on the witness stand. He was trapped, and he sounded like it, and he looked like it.
“Now, you may not know with certainty that Thomas Sykes murdered Walter Timmerman. I’m not saying you should; he has not been investigated by the authorities, and there is much more for all of us to learn.
“But consider this: Judge Henderson will explain to you that to find Steven Timmerman guilty, you must do so beyond a reasonable doubt. If you think that there is a chance, even a relatively small one, that Thomas Sykes is guilty, then you must have a reasonable doubt as to Steven’s guilt.
“It’s as simple as that.
“Steven Timmerman is a victim. He’s lost his father, and he’s lost his freedom. His father is gone forever, but you have the power to give him his freedom back. Thank you.”
When I take my seat, Steven puts his hand on my shoulder and softly says, “Thank you; I think you were fantastic.”
“I wish you were on the jury,” I say.
He smiles. “So do I.”
I’LL NEVER AGAIN describe waiting for a verdict as the most stressful thing I have ever faced. Not after sitting in that hospital room while Laurie was in a coma, fighting for her life. Nothing compares to that, but waiting for the jury to rule is no day at the beach.
I’m naturally pessimistic when it comes to this point in the trial, and Kevin is naturally optimistic. The truth is that neither of us knows what the hell he is talking about. Jury verdicts are impossible to predict.
It’s an accepted maxim that the longer the jury is out, the better for the defense. That is because defense teams usually consider a hung jury to be a victory, and the longer a verdict watch goes, the more likely that somebody on one side or the other is holding out.
Of course, like everything else, this accepted maxim is by no means always accurate. I have seen juries vote to acquit in an hour, and vote to convict after two weeks.
So the way I deal with my stress is to hang out and try not to think about the verdict. The longest I have successfully avoided those thoughts is about twenty minutes, but as I recall they were a very peaceful twenty minutes.
I make it a point to visit Steven once a day, though it’s unlikely I make him feel any better. I scrupulously don’t give him my opinion as to the outcome; instead I mouth meaningless phrases like “I’m cautiously hopeful” and “We’re not going to know until we know.” Real profound stuff.
We’re in the third day of waiting when Laurie comes into the den. It’s in the morning, and she knows I like to obsess and agonize in the den in the morning. After lunch I prefer obsessing and agonizing in the living room, and after dinner my choice is to obsess and agonize while pacing around the house. The variety appeals to me.
Laurie generally knows enough to leave me alone at these times, so her entry is a small surprise. I worry for a moment that she is going to tell me that the jury has reached a verdict, but I haven’t heard the phone ring. I’m not sure why I hate being told that a decision has been reached, but it might be that it’s because at that moment it feels officially out of my control.
“Hi,” she says. It’s not a particularly interesting way to open a conversation, but the tone in her voice indicates that she has something on her mind.
“Uh-oh,” I say as I stand up and gird for the worst. For some reason I gird better standing.
“I know you don’t like to talk when you’re waiting for the jury, but I’ve figured things out as well as I’m going to, and I know you were anxious to have this conversation, so…”
So intense was my focus on the jury that the situation with Laurie had almost been totally out of my mind, but now it is staring me in the face. I don’t want to hear bad news now, but if I don’t hear what she has to say, I’ll agonize and obsess about it as well. That won’t be good; when it comes to obsessing and agonizing, I’m basically monogamous. One thing at a time.
“Say it really fast,” I tell her. “Whatever it is, say it really fast.”
She laughs. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“You’re not going fast enough.”
“I want to live here, with you.”
Did she say what I think she said? “Did you say what I think you said?”
“If you think I said I want to live here with you, then yes.”
I go over and kiss her, mainly because that way she won’t be able to talk and tell me she changed her mind. Then I ask, “What about getting married?”
“That’s up to you,” she says. “I’m fine with it, but I don’t need it. We love each other, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and that’s enough for me.” She smiles. “Besides, I’m already in the will.”
I kiss her again. “What made you decide to live here?”
“Probably what I went through. Life is too precious, and it’s too damn short. I hope we each have a hundred years left, but if we don’t, or even if we do, I want to spend it with the person I love.”
“And will you be my investigator again? Coincidentally, a position just opened up.”
She smiles. “Maybe. I haven’t thought that through. And I’m going to have to spend some time in Findlay, transitioning to my replacement. And I’ll want to visit a lot; I have so many great friends there.”
“I understand; that’s perfect.”
“I feel good about this, Andy. I’m very happy with what I decided.”
“You’re the second happiest person in the room,” I say.
We kiss again, and the phone rings. I answer it, and Rita Gordon, the court clerk, says, “Andy, they’ve reached a verdict.”
I hang up and turn to Laurie. “You’re now the happiest person in the room.”
“I’VE NEVER EXPERIENCED anything like this,” Steven says when I see him before court. “I never really realized it was possible to be this scared.”
I’m not about to tell him that his fear is unwarranted, because it isn’t, and because he wouldn’t believe me anyway. There is nothing like this in any other area of our society. In a few minutes, twelve strangers are going to tell Steven that they’ve decided he can live in freedom, or in misery. And then they’ll go home, and that will be that.
Richard and his team arrive a few minutes after we do, and as he walks in, we make eye contact. I get up and meet him off to the side of the room, and we shake hands.
“Good luck,” he says.
I nod. “The same to me.”
He smiles. “There’s always more at stake on your side of the table, Andy. I know that. I want to win, but I’m sure not anxious for you to lose.”
I ask him something that I never, ever ask anyone, especially a prosecutor. “Do you think he did it?”
