Marine One

The judge came in, the courtroom was called into session, and jury selection began in earnest. The court had sent out a large number of jury subpoenas to accommodate the necessary jury pool for this case. It was thought that a lot of people would be dismissed for cause, for not being able to be fair in a trial. That was certainly my expectation. A French corporation that 'killed the president' was likely to be unpopular. Some would probably want to make speeches about how outraged they were. It was important that the court acknowledged that, but equally disheartening. No one was going to be biased against the first lady or the widow of the pilot; any bias was going to run toward WorldCopter, the evil foreign corporation.

The judge had required everyone in the jury pool fill out a questionnaire. The jurors were identified by number. We had copies of all the questionnaires and had stayed up late the night before going over them. Rachel and I had huddled together in my office to make a list of those we planned to challenge for cause depending on who from the larger group ended up in the actual jury box. You don't know that until the clerk calls out the numbers randomly selected from the larger group.

My final list was given to Braden and Lynn Carpenter, two of our contract attorneys, in the morning so they could compare our thoughts to their own. WorldCopter had also insisted we use and at least 'include in our decision process.' The consultant was sitting in the audience looking like any other observer. If we had time to talk, we'd compare notes, but if not, the consultant would send me a 'Must Strike!' list by BlackBerry. It made it a little more challenging, but I refused to have a jury consultant sit at counsel table during voir dire the way some lawyers did. It's the kiss of death with a jury, in my opinion. It was like bringing a psychologist with you on a first date.

Judge Betancourt motioned to the clerk and said, 'Call the first twenty-four.' Judges selected juries differently, but this judge had decided to bring twenty-four people up, twelve into the box, and twelve outside the box, for initial questioning. This would allow us to question them together and know who was coming next if someone inside the box was stricken. In addition to trying to remove somebody for admitted bias, we were each entitled to three peremptory challenges, where we could strike a juror without any explanation at all. I watched as the clerk called each person by juror number, each of whom was then told exactly where to sit, from seat number one, whose occupant would become juror number one if sworn in, through juror number twelve, and then four alternates. Federal court, of course, has no alternate jurors. The requirement is a minimum of six jurors in a civil trial, with no fewer without a stipulation by all parties. Judge Betancourt had told us she intended to seat twelve because it was going to be a long trial. Fine with me. I'd have preferred fifty. Hackett had to convince all of them; he needed a unanimous jury to win in federal court.

The clerk called out the numbers. The twelve in the box were a diverse group of old and young, men and women, black, Hispanic, and white. It was a cross section of America. I liked the looks on their faces. They were intelligent, and ready. One of the concerns, one of the things I was watching for, was eagerness. People really wanted to sit on this jury. They would be able to tell their grandchildren about this trial. Some were probably thinking they could cash in on this experience somehow. They'd be interviewed by innumerable television shows like a cat with a new toy. But they wouldn't know they were the toy. They'd get their fifteen minutes of fame, then the interest of the world would turn to the next question or crisis. If you were able to discern who those people were, it would be best to ask them to leave, especially on my side of the case. Because what kind of book would be most likely to sell? One about a defense verdict saying the French company did nothing wrong, or the first trillion-dollar verdict in the first presidential wrongful-death case that found a foreign corporation killed the president?

The judge began the voir dire herself by asking questions that had been agreed upon before the trial by the parties. The prospective jurors were asked whether they knew any of the attorneys. Many knew of Hackett, but nobody knew him. They were asked about their knowledge of the case from the press and whether they had formed an opinion based on the press reporting. No, no. No one had, they all assured the judge. They were asked about their understanding of helicopters, the safety of helicopters, the safety of flying, foreign corporations, foreign manufacturing of goods destined for the American military, and their ability to be fair to a foreign corporation. All the usual kinds of questions that any high school student would know to ask when trying to find out whether a juror was biased.

The prospective jurors assured everybody in the room that they were certainly not biased against either party and would absolutely give a fair hearing if allowed to serve. Most of the jurors were nearly gleeful. The press hung on every word, although they knew the jurors only by number. The judge didn't want the press doing background investigations on every juror to try to figure out how they might vote or digging up dirt on them to throw the trial into disarray. They were to be known by numbers only until the conclusion of the trial or they were dismissed from the jury pool.

After the judge completed her preliminary questioning, she looked at Hackett. 'Mr. Hackett, you may examine the jury.'

27

HACKETT BEGAN WITH flare. He would select a juror by number, all of which he had memorized. He followed up gently on several of the questions that had been asked by the judge, then picked one woman, juror number six, the last person in the top row to the left, and asked her questions that were obviously aimed not only at her but at everybody in the jury pool.

He glanced around the entire room, even looking at the remaining jurors sitting in the gallery, to make sure everyone was listening. He wanted them to know that he was going to ask them all essentially the same questions. He began with his voice so low that the room grew even quieter as everyone strained to hear him. 'Good morning, ma'am. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to consider sitting on this jury panel.'

She smiled. 'I didn't really have much choice. They sent me a subpoena.' This caused a great deal of laughter in the courtroom and broke the tension.

'Well, thank you for being here anyway. I know it's a burden. You've already told the judge that you can be here for the three weeks that this trial is expected to take. Are you willing to pay close attention to the evidence for that entire time?'

'Of course.'

'There's going to be some evidence that will be quite gruesome. Pictures of dead bodies, discussion of the manner of death. Are you prepared to listen to that evidence?'

'Well, I don't look forward to it, but, yes, I can hear it and understand it.'

'You understand that I am here representing the first lady, or I should say the former first lady, Mrs. Adams. The wife of former president Adams.'

'Yes, of course.'

'And do you also understand that I, with my colleagues, am also representing the families of the other people who were killed in this incident? Including Mrs. Collins?' He pointed to her. 'And Mrs. Rudd, the wife of the copilot?'

'Yes.'

'Can you give each of them a fair trial? Because their damages will be different. The president's damages, the value that you will be asked to place on his life, could be enormous. It might be argued by the other side that the damages for a combat-veteran, Marine Corps sergeant who was the crew chief would be less, but can you give him as fair a hearing? Can you give his family as fair a trial as you would give the first lady or former first lady?'

'Oh, yes, of course.'

Hackett paced momentarily, forcing everyone's attention back on him. He had noted a distraction, a noise outside that sounded like a commotion or a confrontation. He let that noise die down without being obvious about it. People then returned their attention to him from the windows. He told them he was going to ask for a lot of money. He wanted to make sure they didn't have some conscientious objection to awarding piles of money.

He asked a black man with silver-rimmed glasses in the back row, 'Can you give WorldCopter a fair trial? Because I don't know what evidence they're going to put on.' Hackett turned toward me and then back to the jury. 'I don't know if they have any evidence, but I just want you to be open-minded if they do produce evidence that you think is relevant. I want you to consider it, even if you're completely persuaded at the conclusion of my case. Can you do that?'

I wanted to throw something at him. After a few more questions it was finally my turn. I asked a few innocuous questions, particularly of those jurors who'd indicated they had family members in law practice or that had worked in law firms. I questioned all the jurors for five minutes or so each and tried to emphasize that this was a complex case, that it would require the testimony of experts in metallurgy, piloting, and mechanical engineering, and that if they had formed a conclusion before they heard all the evidence-before they heard all my experts-they would then have to persuade themselves that they had been wrong. I told them people didn't like to be wrong, and if I had to persuade them that an earlier conclusion they had reached was wrong, it made the entire process unfair for my client. They had to not form that conclusion until the end of the evidence, until the closing arguments were done, and the judge had instructed them on the law. While they were all agreeable instantly to that concept, I knew that none of them would follow it. Jurors usually pick sides at the conclusion of opening arguments, and most stuck to those decisions right through to the jury verdict.

I finished just as the clock moved to noon, and the judge announced our ninety-minute lunch break. Justin had saved a table for our team in the cafeteria on the second floor, where I compared notes with our jury consultant, who'd been sitting in the first row, Rachel, Braden, Justin, the general counsels for both WorldCopters, and of course Kathryn with Mark Brightman, who was sitting in the audience in his expensive suit trying to look indispensable.

As usual, the jury consultant tried to tell me which jurors to challenge, but frankly, I was content with the entire panel. I'd take them just as they were, but of course Hackett wouldn't. He'd try to strike some for cause, then use some of his peremptory challenges, and we'd have new jurors to question. So I made my list of the jurors Hackett was most likely to strike, and the ones I would strike in order if he started. Our jury consultant was unhappy with my list and tried to tell WorldCopter that I was making a mistake, but he was getting a deaf ear from everybody.

When court reconvened at one thirty, the jurors sat in their chairs anxiously, the gallery was in its place, and the attorneys were at the counsel tables. The clerk announced the judge, everybody sat, and the judge asked me if I had any additional questions to ask the jury.

'No, Your Honor.'

'Very well then-'

Hackett stood. 'Your Honor, if I might. I am informed that my clients are waiting outside, and I'd like the court to wait one moment before we begin our challenges, such as they might be.'

The judge nodded. 'Hurry it up, Mr. Hackett.'

Hackett turned toward the aisle as the back door of the courtroom opened and the first lady and the other five widows walked in. They were quite a sight. The first lady was of course impeccably dressed and looked as if she could be president. She was dignified and confident in her walk, but not such a fast walk as to be disrespectful to President Adams or the court. The other widows followed behind, dressed very differently but all perfectly for who they were. I was ready to bet a lot of money that Hackett had hired a fashion consultant.

They made their way to the front row and sat next to Mrs. Collins, except for the first lady, who made her way through the gate and sat next to Hackett. The Secret