'Okay, counsel,' Rotelli cut in with an unimpressed manner. 'I get it. Mr. James.'
Slowly, James rose. 'If there was any untoward delay, Your Honor, Ms. Bramwell here can account for that to this Court and the jury.' His voice became solemn. 'Mr. Mauriani is seeking the ultimate penalty—death. Now he wants to exclude vital evidence on a technicality. Any prejudice to the prosecutor pales in comparison to death by lethal injection.'
Briskly, Rotelli nodded. 'I have to concur,' he told Mauriani. 'Where two lives are in the balance, justice requires us to hear Ms. Bramwell out. Motion denied.'
Mauriani was very careful to look somber.
* * *
Fifteen years later, he walked Teresa Peralta Paget to her car.
They had emptied the second bottle of cabernet, with Terri finally accepting a glass. The man simply wanted company, she thought, and she owed him the courtesy of not feeling set apart.
And Mauriani reacted with a courtesy of his own; dignified and solicitous, he walked her to the car, carefully repeating the directions he had already given her. When she drove away, he remained at the head of the driveway, watching.
She arrived home late, around ten-thirty, and encountered Carlo sitting in the kitchen, waiting for her as she had asked.
'Did Mrs. Price recall anything about Tasha?' she inquired.
Sitting on the stool at the kitchen counter, Carlo sipped from a steaming cup of coffee. 'Some,' he answered. 'But more about Yancey James.'
* * *
It was the last time, Eula Price remembered, that she spoke with the lawyer alone.
They sat in Eula's living room on the night before the trial began. 'Tasha Bramwell,' James said in forceful tones, 'could become the cornerstone of our defense. But taken by herself, I can assure you, Mrs. Price, that she just won't be enough to save your boys. A death penalty case is complicated, and the prosecutor's office is bringing their full might down upon us.'
'What can we do?'
'More investigation—to find all the evidence we can, from whatever source, that this terrible crime is contrary to your grandsons' basic natures.' He paused, as though reluctant, then added firmly, 'We're going to need more money, Mrs. James. To fund our further investigation before it's too late.'
Eula felt panic, a swift palpitation of her heart. 'What about the money from the house?'
'Gone,' he said flatly. 'Investigation fees. The last dollars went into checking out Tasha Bramwell.'
Tears came to Eula's eyes. 'Lawyer James, I got no more money. This trouble's taken it all.'
James lowered his gaze in sorrow. 'Not even savings?' he asked.
Beneath the words, Eula could feel his desperation. 'Just pension money,' she answered, feeling her voice become husky. 'We already used up all Joe left me.'
Shaking his head, James reached for the familiar white handkerchief. 'Then all we can do,' he said mournfully, 'is whatever we can. Can't do any more than that.'
SIXTEEN
THE NEXT MORNING, IN THE CONFERENCE ROOM WHERE THEY sat reviewing trial transcripts, Carlo scanned Mauriani's questioning of prospective jurors. 'It reads almost like he's helping James,' Carlo remarked. 'He retained two African Americans on the jury who as good as said they thought cops target blacks.'
Terri poured herself a second cup of coffee. 'He was worried about jury demographics,' she answered. 'Mauriani wasn't about to risk a reversal on the grounds of racial exclusion. But I assume the two black jurors said they'd have no problem imposing the death penalty.'
'Yup. The judge kept bouncing people with qualms about capital punishment.'
'Not surprising. A jury with scruples isn't likely to impose it.'
Carlo frowned. 'But if all the jurors were pro-death, weren't they also likely to be pro-prosecution?'
'You'd certainly think so,' Terri answered dryly. 'But Rotelli and Mauriani were only following the law.
'A year before Rennell's trial, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that death-qualified juries don't violate a defendant's right to an impartial jury drawn from a fair cross section of the community. That's another way the death penalty warped Rennell's trial—Mauriani got to pick a jury more likely to convict him.'
'You don't suppose,' Carlo suggested, 'that crossed Mauriani's mind when he decided to seek the death penalty.'
Terri nodded. 'In a city this liberal, you can knock out a slew of jurors. But, in retrospect, he thinks any twelve people off the street would have sentenced Rennell to death.'
'Because his case was that good?'
Terri put down her cup. 'Partly that,' she answered. 'Partly James. And partly because, in Mauriani's colorful phrase, the jury found Rennell Price 'guilty of offensive smiling.' '
* * *
Mauriani first noticed Rennell during Yancey James's disastrous cross-examination of Thuy Sen's mother.
The prosecutor's decision to lead with Chou Sen was simple—of the two parents, she was the more emotive, and only she had even a limited command of English. Gently, on direct, Mauriani had led her through the tragedies that had brought the Sen family to this moment: the murder of Thuy Sen's maternal grandmother and grandfather
