No Way Out

surprised Andi. It was very rare for Gene to cry.

“What do you think? I quit my job in the Big Apple and crossed the continent with you ’cause you couldn’t make it in New York and now you stab me in the back by getting them to serve me with an injunction so I can’t even do my job and help a rape victim?”

“It wasn’t my idea to get the injunction. I tried to use you as an excuse to refuse the case.”

“Use me as an excuse?”

“Conflict of interest. But they wouldn’t buy it. They said you could step aside.”

“You think maybe I didn’t want to step aside?”

“It wasn’t my decision.”

“You could have stepped aside! No one forced you to defend a rapist!”

“It’s my job,” she snapped, leaping off the bed. “And it’s alleged rapist!”

With these words, Andi stormed out of the room. With tears now streaming down her own cheeks, Andi went downstairs to the living room. She crossed over to the alcove that housed a desk and bookshelves, which they had set aside as a study and office. On the desk was a laptop PC, a docking station and a large monitor. Andi switched on the computer and waited for it to boot up.

When it had gone through its start-up routine, she clicked on an icon to launch an E-mail program and then clicked on a menu item to download her E-mail. It took a few seconds more for the computer to connect to the broadband and download the eMail. There were five messages. Four were from old, distant friends wishing her luck in her new job. But it was the fifth message that startled her. It read:

That rapist scum-bag Elias Claymore is unworthy of your assistance and deserves everything he gets. Make sure that you are not around when justice is finally delivered or you will only have yourself to blame.

Lannosea

An alarm bell went off inside her head, and the words “hate mail” flashed across her mind’s eye. But who sent it? And from where? Maybe they could be tracked down via their service provider. She scrolled up to the “From” field, and saw that it had come from a webmail address. It could have been sent from a public library or an Internet cafe. There would be no way to trace it to a person.

A range of emotions swept over her like a quick succession of waves. The first was a wave of fear; the second, anger. But if the first was a surfer’s tube-ride, the second was a tsunami.

And who the fuck was Lannosea?

Monday, 15 June 2009 — 10:25

“What’s she doing here?”

Elias Claymore’s reaction appeared to border on paranoia when Alex first brought Andi into the room at the Ventura Pre-Trial Detention facility that had been allocated for their conference.

“Allow me to introduce my co-counsel on this case,” said Alex. “Andi Phoenix.”

Claymore’s eyes darted away to Alex for a moment before returning to Andi, the suspicion lingering in his eyes.

“You didn’t say anything about co-counsel… nothing personal Miss Phoenix.”

“Oh, please, call me Andi,” she said, in a re-assuring tone that was clearly calculated to put him at ease.

She held out her hand warmly. Claymore hesitated before reaching out to shake it. Alex watched as they shook hands weakly. Then he held out his own hand, not to shake but to indicate a waiting seat. Claymore sat down, not taking his eyes off Andi. Andi followed suit, leaving Alex last to take his seat round the table.

“The first thing we need to talk about,” Alex began, “is a change of venue.”

“Why?”

“Perhaps I can explain,” said Andi.

She looked at Alex. He nodded.

“According to the latest stats, Ventura County has just under 700,00 °Caucasians and 17,000 African- Americans. That makes the state 2.1 percent Black and 87.5 percent White.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I’m probably more unpopular with my own people at the moment.”

“I doubt that,” said Andi. “We’re talking about ultra-conservative Whites.”

Claymore tried to sound jovial.

“Well, hey… I’m a conservative!”

“I know Mr. Claymore and that might have worked if it was a minor charge. But this is rape and a lot of your natural supporters have already turned against you right now.”

“You’ve done an opinion poll?”

He grinned, desperately, trying to make light of the situation. Andi maintained her neutral face.

“We’re keeping an ear to the ground… and those are the vibes we’re getting.”

Claymore looked over at Alex, who nodded imperceptibly, content to let Andi earn her keep.

“In any case,” Andi continued. “We’re know from the stats that Ventura juries tend to be convicting juries.”

“What about Hispanics?” asked Claymore.

“Hispanics can be any race and they’re included in the black and white stats. But we have a separate figure of 287,000 Hispanic and Latino citizens. Of those, 272,000 are classified as White Hispanic. There are also some 50,000 Asian citizens who are likely to be hostile to working class blacks, but might admire you and a further 17,000 of mixed race who may be a bit more friendly. But those two groups combined are less than ten percent of the population.”

Claymore looked crestfallen.

“And what do we need? If we had the ideal choice.”

Andi was about to speak when Alex finally entered the discussion.

“Ideally, we’d have a jury of liberal whites.” He was going to elaborate on his reasons, but held back, realizing that it would sound just a little too cynical.

“So what can we do?”

Alex and Andi exchanged glances. In the end it was Andi who spoke.

“In the real world, the outcome of one controversial case can often have a knock-on effect on the next. In the O J Simpson case, the acquittal of the cops who viciously beat Rodney King was still fresh in the minds of the jurors. The truth of the matter is that a case that may be cast iron and watertight in the courtroom can fall apart in the jury room.”

“So are there any recent cases we can take advantage of?” asked Claymore. The cynical words fell uneasily from his lips.

“Unfortunately not. In this case, the key to winning was getting the right jury,” said Andi. “And that means holding the trial in the right district and then using challenges to prune and cherry pick the jury. Sometimes that might be as simple as getting a jury of the right ethnic group. In the O J Simpson case, the defense were able to get a predominantly African-American jury. In the Rodney King case it was an all-white one in Simi valley where a lot of cops lived.”

“And can we do that?”

Again Andi looked at Alex. Again he nodded to let her know that he was content to let her speak.

“In this case it’s a little more complicated. Even if we can get an all-black jury, it’s by no means certain that such a jury would favor you. Like you said, a lot of blacks have been alienated by your outspoken views.”

After a while, Claymore broke the silence.

“Could I ask a personal question Miss Phoenix? Did you volunteer for this job?”

Alex felt a stab of fear, wondering if Andi’s answer was going to be tactful or brutally honest. But whatever it was to be, he knew that he couldn’t interfere now.

“That’s not a personal question,” she replied with a reassuring smile. Claymore was watching her closely. “I…”

She looked at Alex. But his face offered her no hint of assistance. “I was asked by Mr. Sedaka to help, and I agreed. Alex was… most convincing.”

Alex coughed nervously. In front of him were several copies of the evidence report, at this stage a mere