Kelly hit the button and showed the profit margins on an MD-9. “Here’s why-two hundred dollars per gun. Nearly a million dollars last year from Peninsula Arms alone.”
She paused, letting that number sink in. “Now, in case you think I’m just making this up-that MD Firearms isn’t really motivated just by money, they did us the favor of putting it all in writing. How fitting that in a case about distribution of firearms, Mr. McAllister over there should be so kind as to create a memo that can only be referred to as a ‘smoking gun.’”
Page by page, Kelly took the jury through the McAllister memo. The man had analyzed the profits made through four troublesome dealers, including Peninsula Arms. He had argued that shutting off these four dealers (which, Kelly pointed out, together accounted for over 50 percent of the guns traced to crimes in the northeast cities) would generate lawsuits by the dealers and serve as a tacit admission that MD Firearms had a duty to monitor its dealers.
“According to Mr. McAllister, a cost-benefit analysis suggested that MD Firearms should continue selling guns to all licensed dealers-even if they were acting illegally in the sales of those guns.”
Kelly got mad just thinking about it. She didn’t have to manufacture emotion-her anger was real. If McAllister and Davids had acted responsibly, Rachel Crawford might still be alive.
“Do you know what’s missing from Mr. McAllister’s cost-benefit analysis?” Kelly demanded. “Do you know what just happened to slip his mind, just fall through the cracks?”
She stopped, jaw clenched, lips pursed. “The cost of innocent human life-that’s what. The devastation to a young couple like Rachel and Blake Crawford. The death of a tiny baby twenty-two weeks into gestation, little Rebecca Crawford, tucked safely inside her mother’s womb.”
Kelly paused, pulling the images from the 3-D ultrasound up on the screen. “Unfortunately for MD Firearms, Mr. McAllister is not the only one who gets to do a cost-benefit analysis on whether they should have stopped selling guns to Peninsula Arms.
“You, ladies and gentlemen, get to do your own cost-benefit analysis. Was MD Firearms acting responsibly by knowingly selling to dirty dealers? Or did their failure to exercise reasonable care cost Rachel Crawford her life?”
Kelly let the question hang there for a moment as she prepared to change gears. She wanted to tell the jury about Ed Poole. She needed to make sure Jason Noble either put him on the stand or paid the price for pulling him as an expert.
“The defendant has retained an expert witness named Ed Poole,” Kelly explained. “A former chief of police for the city of Atlanta. He’s going to tell you that the man who shot Rachel Crawford could have obtained his gun from the black market. That it wouldn’t have made any difference if MD Firearms had cut off dealers like Peninsula Arms.
“But then I’ll get a chance to ask him a few questions on cross-examination. And without giving away what I’m going to say, I’ll promise you this: By the time he leaves the stand, you won’t be willing to believe a word the man says.”
Kelly lowered her voice. She went to her counsel table and picked up the MD-9 used to kill Rachel Crawford. “This case is really the story of a gun,” she said. “This gun.”
It took her ten more minutes to tell the story. The illegal purchase by Larry Jamison. His vendetta against Rachel Crawford because of the investigative report Rachel had prepared. His plan to take Rachel hostage and execute her on live television.
“Unfortunately,” Kelly said, her voice nearly a whisper, “his plan worked to perfection. What you’re about to see is graphic, but it’s the reason the stakes are so high when a company like MD Firearms does a cost-benefit analysis about the way it distributes its products. What you’re about to see, what many of you have already seen, are the last few minutes of Rachel Crawford’s life…”
67
Jason Noble leaned back in his chair, frowned a little, shook his head occasionally, and jotted a note or two. He stifled a yawn for the jury. On the outside, the epitome of boredom. On the inside, butterflies in full riot mode, heart pumping, perspiration factory working overtime.
He noticed that Kelly Starling had no trouble keeping the rapt attention of the men on the jury. She had recently cut her short blonde hair, making her appear even more businesslike. She wore a white blouse, gray suit, heels, understated earrings, a silver necklace, and a touch of lipstick-very classy, but nothing to purposely draw attention to herself.
She didn’t have to. She walked around the courtroom with elegant grace, her eyes blazing with intensity, yet still she managed a beguiling smile here and there. The four men on the jury followed her every move. The three women kept glancing over at her client. She was, thought Jason, a formidable opponent.
She stood now at the edge of the jury box, out of the way, and for the first time nobody paid any attention to her. She played the video of the shooting. It started with Rachel live on the air, and then somebody yelled something about a gun. The screen went dark for what seemed like an eternity.
When it came back on, Jamison was on camera along with Lisa Roberts, the news anchor, and Rachel. Jamison forced the women to introduce themselves and told the television audience they had just heard a bunch of lies. He paced behind Lisa and Rachel, then pointed the gun at Rachel’s face.
While Jamison ranted about the investigative report, Jason watched the looks on the faces of the jurors. Most of them grimaced, bracing themselves for what they knew was coming. They seemed to be holding their collective breath.
Jamison questioned Rachel about her sources, threatening her as he did so. He forced Rachel to apologize and beg for mercy. He questioned Lisa: “Do you agree that it’s her fault?” Lisa shuddered and sobbed, “She made a mistake.”
Though the jury knew it was coming, the gunshots still managed to startle them. Some jolted back as they watched Rachel dive for the floor, Jamison pumping bullets into his victim even as his own body was torn apart by the SWAT team bullets. There was shouting and chaos. Both Rachel and Jamison lay dead on the set, blood splattering their bodies.
The screen went blank.
Kelly moved to the front of the jury box and stood there. She didn’t say a word. Her back was to Jason, so he couldn’t tell if she was crying or just trying to hold it together. The tension in the courtroom was off the charts.
“Ms. Starling,” Judge Garrison finally prompted. He said it softly, as if trying to nudge her from a trance.
“Silence,” Kelly said. “Since the time those gunshots were fired, for my client… there’s been nothing but silence. Where once there was the laughter of a spouse, a greeting when he came home from work, soft breathing on the pillow next to him at night, all those sounds that brought joy and contentment in life… now, there’s just silence.”
Kelly hit the remote again, and the screen displayed the ultrasound images. “Where once there was a heartbeat, there is silence.
“What would my client give to spend one more day with his wife? I’ll tell you what he’d give-anything in the world. You can’t put a price on a soul mate.”
Kelly stopped and turned toward Jason’s counsel table, her eyes locking on Case McAllister.
She turned back to the jury and lowered her voice. “Not even Mr. McAllister could do a cost-benefit analysis on that.”
Watching on the large flat-screen television in his office, Robert Sherwood gave Kelly’s opening an approving grunt. He took a long pull on his cigar and wafted the smoke toward the ceiling. Kelly Starling had risen to the occasion.
At Justice Inc. she had been a good lawyer-a pleasant face, an ultracompetitive personality, and a hard worker. But she had never shown the flashes of brilliance that Sherwood had seen from Jason Noble. Five years of trial experience had changed her. Sherwood had expected a solid opening. But this one bordered on greatness.
At heart, Robert Sherwood was still a trial lawyer. He loved watching the cases unfold. He had spent the
