He grabs that scrap of information and holds on to it for dear life. He drags Samara onto it with him, and together they cling to it as tightly as they can.
'Will the foreman please rise,' says the clerk.
Mr. Merkel stands.
'In the case of The People of the State of New York versus Samara Tannenbaum, has the jury reached a verdict?'
More butterflies, more fibrillation.
'No.'
'Thank you. Please be seated.'
It has only been a formality, one of the many rituals that take place during any trial. Yet even knowing that, and knowing full well from their note that the jurors haven't reached a verdict, for Jaywalker the little charade has amounted to a near-death experience. As for Samara, who doesn't know the rules of the ritual, he can't even begin to imagine what it must have been like. But outwardly, at least, she refuses to crumble.
The judge reads the jurors' note aloud and responds to it as he earlier indicated he would. When Mr. Merkel raises his hand with a question, the judge politely refuses to hear it. Instead, he sends the jurors back to the jury room, with instructions to communicate through another note.
So five minutes later there's another buzz, another onset of fibrillation and another note.
Dear Judge Sobel:
We the jury are disappointed in your an swer, but will abide by it. At this point, we are extremely close to reaching a unani mous verdict. We request that you allow us to continue our deliberations until 8:00 p.m., to give us a chance to resolve our differences. If we are unable to do it by then, we would like to stop for the eve ning.
Stanley Merkel Foreman
With both lawyers in agreement, Judge Sobel com poses a note of his own and has it delivered to the jury room. Essentially, it informs the jurors that their request will be granted.
7:00.
One hour to get through.
By now it's absolutely clear to Jaywalker that the jury stands eleven-to-one for conviction, or at best ten-to two. From her glassy eyes, he guesses that Carmelita Rosado is his holdout. If there's another, he'll put his money on Juror Number 10, Angelina Olivetti, the actress waiting tables between casting calls. Two young women, both on the quiet side. Jaywalker thought about chal lenging both of them, but ended up having to save his per emptories for other jurors he feared more. While neither Rosado nor Olivetti struck him as particularly defense oriented, he was at least able to take comfort from the fact that they seemed weak. In other words, while they might go along with the majority, they weren't leaders. They weren't the kind of jurors likely to organize a stampede to convict Samara.
Now that same weakness has suddenly turned into a li ability. Will the two of them, or one of them, if that's what it's already down to, have the strength to withstand the pressure now being applied by the rest of the jurors?
'Where were you during the testimony, on another planet or something?'
'Weren't you listening?'
'Are you saying the rest of us are all wrong?'
'What part of 'Guilty' don't you get?'
'You know you're the only thing that's standing be tween us and going home, don't you?'
'As long as you know you're the one who's locking us up in some godforsaken, flea-bag motel.'
'I don't want to say anything, but I've got an eighty-six year-old mother at home, waiting for me to give her her insulin shot and put her to bed. But I'm sure you couldn't care less.'
7:30.
Halfway there.
According to one court officer, there have been a few raised voices in the jury room but no outright shouting. Shouting would be good, a suggestion that someone has dug in and is being stubborn. Raised voices are harder to read.
7:46.
The same court officer reports to Jaywalker that he's heard some crying from what sounds like a woman juror. Crying is bad. Crying can only mean despair at having to convict, coupled with frustration over not being able to force the judge to be lenient. Crying is very bad.
7:48.
Has the clock stopped moving? Has someone been tam pering with it?
7:50.
Jaywalker can no longer sit still. His bladder has been calling to him for a half an hour now, but he's afraid to leave the courtroom, afraid that as soon as he does, the buzzer will sound twice, afraid that his leaving the court room will cause that to happen. So he paces the floor, out of nervousness, and to keep from wetting his pants. If he can just hold out for another ten minutes, he figures, so can Carmelita Rosado or Angelina Olivetti.
Or so his magical thinking goes.
7:57.
Judge Sobel reappears and takes the bench. Jaywalker and Samara resume their places at the defense table, Burke at the prosecution's. Jaywalker's legs are crossed tightly, his knees knocking together almost audibly. Let them think it's nerves, he tells himself. He remembers his former client, the one who used to wet himself every time he had to stand before the judge unless Jaywalker was there to hold his hand and squeeze it tightly.
'It's not eight o'clock yet,' says Burke.
'Bring in the jury,' says the judge.
'Would the foreman please rise.'
Mr. Merkel stands.
'Mr. Foreman, in the case of The People of the State of New York versus Samara Tannenbaum, has the jury reached a verdict?'
'No, not yet.'
Jaywalker exhales.
As soon as the jurors had been led out to a late dinner and an even later overnight stay, Tom Burke rose and renewed his application to have Samara remanded. 'It's obvious to all of us that the jury is on the verge of-'
'Excuse me,' said Jaywalker, also rising, 'but I'm on the verge of wetting my pants. I need a three-minute break. Then I'll be happy to come back and talk about this for as long as you like.'
'There's nothing to talk about,' said Judge Sobel. 'Mr. Burke, if you're afraid the defendant is going to flee, station your detectives outside her building tonight, front and back. Mrs. Tannenbaum, I trust you'll be here promptly at nine-thirty tomorrow morning?'
'Yes, Your Honor.'
'Mr. Jaywalker. Mr. Jaywalker?'
But Jaywalker was already halfway down the aisle. Magical thinking or not, his strategy seemed to have worked. Now if only the janitorial crew hadn't already locked the door to the men's room, it would be an unmiti gated triumph.
To think about it, all that had really happened was that Samara wouldn't be convicted tonight. Tomorrow, of course, would be another story. Right now, that tiniest of victories felt like pure nirvana to Jaywalker. It felt almost as good, in fact, as it did when a turn of the knob succeeded in opening the men's room door.
30
