“As a lawyer, as a writer-I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. But I am coming after you. I’m going to expose your disgusting little Cabal for the corporate horror it is.”
Slade leaned forward. His lips thinned, and his voice dropped to barely more than a whisper. “You’re out of your league, Mr. Kincaid. Crawl back to your hole in the prairieland. You’ll be nice and safe there. But don’t mess with me.”
“Because you’re so strong and powerful?”
Slade did not break eye contact. “You have no idea.”
The conversation was interrupted by a booming voice from the front of the courtroom. “Oyez, oyez, oyez. This court is now in session. The Honorable Tyrone J. Pickens presiding.”
Despite himself, Ben felt a small clutching at his heart. This was it, then.
The trial was beginning. Ready or not.
Chapter 34
The first order of the day was jury selection. This was the part of the trial many lawyers said was the most important, and the part Ben most hated. When it came to eliminating jurors, he had learned to trust Christina’s instincts-because he had learned to distrust his own.
After all the work, all the investigation and preparation, witness interviews and evidence examination, document reviews and notetaking and everything else, it came down to this-choosing the twelve people who would sit in that box and decide whether George Zakin lived or died.
Ben listened attentively as the bailiff pulled names out of a hopper and announced them. Christina jotted the names down on his juror seating chart, then pulled whatever rudimentary information had been provided about each of them in advance.
“Charles Candy,” the bailiff called out. “Jack Holstein. Nancy Cooper.”
The names rushed in and out of Ben’s brain. They didn’t mean a thing to him. He focused on watching the people, trying to learn what he could with his eyes. Herbert Coburn was in his sixties, maybe seventies, but he approached the jury box with a slowness that was not related to his age. He didn’t want to be here. Jack Holstein wore his hair longer than the Magic Valley norm, and he looked as if he might be part Native American. Would that make him more sympathetic to Zak’s ecological fervor? It seemed a long shot, but that long shot might be the only one Ben got. Nancy Cooper couldn’t pass through the center aisle of the courtroom without stealing a quick look at Zak. She knew who he was and she knew what case was about to be tried. And Ben got the definite impression she would love nothing more than to see a guilty verdict slapped across his forehead.
Or maybe he was being ridiculous. Was he trying to read too much into a quick glance? He leaned toward Christina and whispered in her ear. “What do you think about Cooper?”
“Definitely not,” Christina whispered back, not looking up from her chart.
Ben beamed. Maybe his instincts weren’t so bad after all.
He continued watching while the bailiff called thirty-two people up front. Folding chairs were added to the jury box so everyone would have a place to sit. The idea was to have enough people for a jury of twelve with two alternates-after each side had exercised its nine peremptory challenges. If any jurors were dismissed for cause, they would have to call more names.
Judge Pickens made a few preliminary remarks. Nothing Ben hadn’t heard before. Thank you for serving as jurors. Important to listen attentively and answer the lawyers’ questions to the best of your ability. Anyone who can’t serve for medical reasons. The usual drill. Judge Pickens worked briskly through the essentials in an efficient, matter-of-fact manner. And he didn’t appear to be trying to influence the outcome. Not yet, anyway.
Judge Pickens also walked the jurors through some of the preliminary questions the lawyers were certain to ask. He introduced every person in the front of the courtroom-lawyers, assistants, Zak-and asked if anyone knew them. He asked each juror to give his occupation, to tell whether he or she was married, and if so, what their spouse did. He asked if any of them had ever been a member of an organization called Green Rage (none) or if they had ever worked for a logging company (fifteen). Which, Ben couldn’t help noting, was six more people than he had peremptory challenges.
Eventually it was time for the actual voir dire to begin. Being the prosecutor, Granny got first dibs. This was an advantage of incalculable value. She had the first chance to make a good impression, the first chance to try to convince them that everything she said was God’s honest truth and everything Ben said was a crock of balderdash. For someone skillful enough to use it properly, it was a priceless opportunity.
And Granny turned out to be very skillful indeed.
Ben wasn’t surprised. In a matter of minutes, he observed the combination of talent and style that built a rep that got her elected D.A. at such a young age. She came on strong and confident, but at the same time, she seemed to understand that there were lines she had best not cross. If she came on too strong, she would lose some of the jurors, particularly the older men, those most likely to mark her down as bitchy. If she came off too weak, of course, she wouldn’t get what she wanted. She found a middle ground, a place likely to impress all while alienating no one.
Her dress reflected the same understanding of the necessary compromise. She was dressed in a light blue business suit-not quite cold, but not entirely warm either. A scarf around her neck provided a splash of color, a hint of femininity.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” she said. She positioned herself just before the rail that separated the courtroom proper from the jury box. “We are asking you this day to serve on a jury that will consider a matter of grave importance, the gravest in our entire criminal code. Important issues are at stake-issues involving law and justice, the need for order in society, the importance of punishing wrongdoing. Obviously, with issues of this magnitude, it is critical that we have a jury that can adjudicate the evidence with a fair and open mind-a jury that won’t shy away from the hard duties, that won’t hesitate to do what has to be done when the time comes.”
Ben could only marvel. She was an extremely effective speaker and advocate. She was already subtly pitching her case, already urging them toward conviction-and she hadn’t even mentioned the case at hand. This common practice was, of course, entirely inappropriate. But she had given Ben nothing to object to.
Granny maintained an earnest but grave expression on her face. “I probably won’t be revealing any secrets when I tell you that the case this jury will be asked to hear is a murder case, a capital murder case. The prosecution will be asking the jury to impose the maximum sentence. And that’s why I have to ask the following questions.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. Usually, prosecutors saved till last the unpleasant business of making sure the jury was
“Is there anyone here who thinks they might not be able to vote for the death penalty? Even assuming the evidence proved guilt beyond a reasonable doubt? Anyone at all. Please, look deep into your hearts and try to be honest about this. Better that we find out now than that you find out later when you’re in the deliberation room.”
At first no one responded. Then, like bashful schoolchildren, three of the jurors raised their hands. A quick glance passed from Granny to Judge Pickens. Pickens thanked them for their time and excused them from the jury. Three replacement jurors were called.
Granny continued hammering on the death penalty for at least another forty minutes. Then she explored other possible grounds for jurors to be excused for cause-people who didn’t believe in trials on religious grounds, people who had been previously convicted in criminal trials, and so on and so on. What she talked about almost not at all, Ben noted, was the enormous amount of local pretrial publicity and the possible bias it might cause. It wasn’t hard to guess why Granny omitted this topic. Apparently she felt any pretrial publicity could only be to her benefit.
Ben also noticed that, regardless of what questions Granny asked, the jury seemed attentive, responsive, and quick to answer. Almost as if they wanted to help her. As if they liked her.
Granny was building a positive rapport with the jury. They were learning to trust her. When all was said and
