LaBelle stepped closer to the jury box, his head lowered and his hands clasped, almost as if in prayer. “I know this is a difficult thing I ask you to do. Most of you are kind, understanding people. You want to forgive, not to punish. But when an abomination of this magnitude occurs, forgiveness is not an option. You must put that instinct out of your mind. You must become, if you will, machines. Logical, rational, truth-seeking machines. Because if we are to have any sense of security in our society, any semblance that justice is done, we cannot allow this heinous crime to go unpunished. When you swore your oath and accepted your role as juror, you became a part of a great machine, a machine that keeps us safe, that keeps society moving forward. Please don’t take that role lightly. You must do your duty.” He paused and looked at them levelly “When all the evidence is in, hard as it may be, you must find the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree.”
Since he’d never had a partner before, deciding who would do what was a new and strange experience for Ben. His choices had to be realistic; he had the utmost confidence in Christina and her abilities, but this was her first trial, and a woman’s life was hanging in the balance. Ultimately, he decided to give her opening statement, while reserving closing argument for himself. Many attorneys, he knew, thought opening statement was more important, since first impressions are so critical and it is the lawyer’s first chance to discuss the meat of the case with the jury. Ben disagreed, at least in this instance. The jury would learn little about the case in the opening that they didn’t already know. What they needed now was someone who could elicit sympathy and urge them to keep their minds open until they had heard all the evidence. Ben knew Christina was much better at understanding and touching human hearts than he was ever likely to be. So she got the job.
“I’m in agreement with Mr. LaBelle on one point,” Christina said, almost too quietly. Her voice quivered a bit as she approached the jurors. “All I ask is that you listen to the evidence, judge it fairly, and then look into your hearts and render the verdict you know is right.” She cleared her throat, adjusted her pitch. She was learning as she went. “But I also differ with Mr. LaBelle. I don’t think it takes much courage in this case to deliver a guilty verdict. That’s what he wants you to do. That’s what everyone wants you to do. To go against the grain—that’s hard. But that’s what I’m going to be asking you to do. Because Keri Dalcanton is not guilty. She did not commit this crime.”
Christina repositioned herself slightly When her voice returned, most of the nervousness was gone. “Contrary to Mr. LaBelle’s suggestion, most of the so-called facts he presented to you are keenly in dispute. Most of them are entirely unproved—they are suppositions. Guesses. The real evidence will paint a significantly different picture. Keri Dalcanton is not an evil woman. Basically, she’s a scared little girl from Stroud, Oklahoma. The evidence will show that she was only eighteen when she left her hometown, after the tornado devastated it and she couldn’t find work. Except she couldn’t find work in Tulsa, either, not enough to support her and her brother, not with her limited skills. She lived in a tiny apartment at a level of near abject poverty, barely able to feed herself for months. Maybe becoming a stripper wasn’t the best choice, but the fact is, she was a child, and children make mistakes. Maybe getting involved with Joe McNaughton wasn’t the smartest move either, but if you’d been in her situation, if you’d found a man offering to take care of you and solve your many problems, wouldn’t you have been tempted? I know I would’ve been.”
Christina moved ever so slightly closer to the jury, drawing them in both physically and verbally. “It’s true, as Mr. LaBelle said, that she had a sexual relationship with Joe McNaughton, a married man, although she didn’t know he was married at the time and the relationship was neither so unusual or so aberrant as he suggests. Here’s the truth, ladies and gentlemen—Keri loved Joe McNaughton. Maybe she shouldn’t’ve, but she did. With all her heart. He was her protector, her savior. She was devastated when he tried to break up with her. But she still loved him, and as the evidence will show, she wouldn’t’ve hurt him. Not then. Not ever.
“The prosecution has no real evidence that she committed this crime and they never will. Because she didn’t. They can make suggestions, they can trot out circumstantial indicators. But they have no proof. And that’s of critical importance. Because as my partner told you yesterday, the burden of proof is entirely on the prosecution. They must prove her guilt beyond a reasonable doubt—a very high standard. If they fail to do so—and they will—then you have no choice under the law but to find her not guilty. No choice whatsoever. That’s what the law says you must do. And what I’m confident you will do.”
She paused, started to turn away, then stopped again. As far as Ben knew, this was the end of her opening, at least as they had practiced it. But it seemed Christina had something more she wanted to say.
“And let’s get one more thing straight before I sit down, okay? This court is not a machine. Keri Dalcanton is not a machine. You are not a machine, and I hope to God you won’t act like one. This case is not about machines. We could probably program computers to be jurors, if measuring evidence was all there was to it But we choose to use real people because that’s what trials are about. Real people. Only people can understand what goes on in the human heart. Only people can consider circumstances, can separate truth from fiction. And only people can stand up and do what they know is right, even in the most difficult of circumstances. We are not machines and God willing we never will be. We’re human beings. So let’s act like it.”
30
BEN WALKED KERI TO the door, squeezed her hand (after he made sure Christina wasn’t watching), and told her to go home and get some rest. “We’re likely to be prepping well into the night. You need to get some sleep.”
“Me?” she said. “But I don’t even do anything.”
“Whether you do or not, the jurors’ eyes are on you, constantly. You need to look sharp, confident, and very not guilty. So go home.”
Instead of moving away, she took a step closer. Her fingers brushed against his. “Ben … thank you.” Her lips turned up toward his.
Ben backed away. “Keri … I told you …”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“After the trial, it will be different—”
“It’s just so hard … being close to you, all day long, and not being able to … show you how I feel.”
Ben felt a sudden dryness in his throat. “I know how you feel. Intimately. But we have to wait.”
She nodded, unhappy but understanding, and left the office.
When Ben returned to the central lobby, he found Loving and Christina waiting for him.
To his relief, Christina made no comment on what she had probably just witnessed at the door. “Are you taking the first witness tomorrow?”
Fine. As long as they stuck to trial strategy, there should be no problems. “If LaBelle calls the cops first—and I think he will—yes. After all, I cross-exed them before, during the first trial.”