“I can’t agree with that,” Mrs. Johnson said. “I’m not positive that this corporation did anything wrong—I just think it’s more likely than not. I won’t tax the defendant millions of dollars on a mere probability.”
Marshall pounded his head against the table. “I don’t believe this. I don’t believe it.”
Mary Ann’s eyes widened like balloons. “We’re gonna be here forever.”
“No,” Peabody said, “we’re not.” He’d been holding back so far. But by God, if he could make a living as a farmer in the state with the most unpredictable weather in the union, he could make this jury agree on a verdict. “Mrs. Johnson, I’m going to take you through the evidence one more time. In great detail.”
The elderly woman leaned away. “I don’t want to hear it again.”
“Now stay with me here; this is absolutely the last time. I’m going to show you point by point exactly why we should award punitive damages. And when I’m done, if you’re convinced, then I want you to join the rest of us.”
“And if I’m not?”
“Then I’ll join you. We all will. We’ll award no punitives—or just render judgment for the defendant. Whatever you want.” He drew himself up, placing his thumbs under the straps of his overalls. “But one way or the other, this trial is going to end. Today.”
Chapter 42
WHEN BEN FINALLY HEARD, it came as such a shock he didn’t believe it at first. Didn’t even understand it. The bailiff had to repeat it twice before it finally sank in.
The jury had returned. They had reached a verdict.
He stumbled back into the courtroom, feeling dazed. He’d waited for this so long it seemed unreal. Slowly but surely, the players were reassembled. Christina was the first to return, followed closely by Professor Matthews and the rest of Ben’s office staff. Colby strolled in shortly thereafter, trying to look unconcerned, as did the rest of his entourage.
And finally, just before the judge called the trial back into session, Cecily Elkins slipped in the back. They made eye contact, if only briefly. Ben knew they were both too concerned about what would happen in the next five minutes to give any thought to social niceties.
Judge Perry called the courtroom to order and brought back the jury. Ben watched as they slowly filed out of the deliberation room, one by one, solemn and serious expressions on their faces. As Christina had predicted, Carl Peabody, the Catoosa farmer, had been made foreman. He held a small folded slip of paper in his hand—a paper Ben would’ve given anything to peruse.
Just behind Peabody was juror number twelve—Mrs. Johnson—the one he’d been so worried about. He tried to make eye contact with her; he’d learned a great deal could be predicted based on jurors" willingness to look at you when they returned. He couldn’t catch her eye, though. Was she intentionally avoiding his gaze?
What did it mean?
“Mr. Foreman, have you reached a verdict?”
Carl Peabody rose. “We have, your honor.”
“And is this the verdict of all twelve of you?”
“It is.” Twelve heads in the jury box nodded.
“Bailiff.” The bailiff took the verdict from the foreman and walked it over to the judge. Ben was moved by the ceremony of it all. It was as if they were all performers in a great passion play, going through their ritualistic motions, drawing out the suspense.
Judge Perry looked at the verdict form. Old pro that he was, his facial expression gave no hint of what it said. He passed it back to the bailiff, who returned it to the foreman.
“Mr. Foreman, please announce your verdict.”
“Yes, your honor.” Peabody glanced down at the form. “On the plaintiffs" claim against the defendant based on the cause of action of wrongful death, we find in favor …”
Why did they always pause there? Ben wondered. Was it the influence of television? Or was it the underlying knowledge each foreman possessed of how important his next few words would be to the people in the courtroom? Perhaps it was to give everyone a last chance to prepare, rather like warning someone to buckle their seat belts.
Peabody cleared his throat, then continued, “we find in favor of … the plaintiffs.”
Ben felt himself breathe, possibly for the first time since he entered the courtroom. Thank God. Thank you, God. Waves of anxiety tumbled off his shoulders like scales.
He heard a whooping sound behind him. He turned, thinking to admonish his staffers, but saw that the noise had come from the gallery. Cecily had company; most of the other parents had joined her. They were squeezing one another’s hands, grinning with satisfaction.
“On this claim,” Foreman Peabody continued, “we award actual damages in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars.”
Ben stopped breathing just as quickly as he had started. A hundred thousand dollars? Split eleven ways? That was nothing. It wouldn’t begin to pay his clients" outstanding medical bills. It wouldn’t pay his legal expenses.
He didn’t look behind him—he couldn’t bear it—but he couldn’t help but notice that the excited chatter from the gallery had been silenced.
“Furthermore,” Foreman Peabody continued, still reading, “we award punitive damages to the plaintiffs in the amount of twenty-five million dollars.”
Someone in the back screamed. The judge pounded his gavel, but it was useless. The courtroom dissolved into sheer pandemonium. All of the parents leapt to their feet. They threw their arms around one another, squeezing with all their might. Tears spilled from their eyes,
Christina rushed up behind Ben and wrapped him up in a huge bear hug. “You did it, Ben! I knew you would. I knew it!”
Over her shoulder, Ben caught a glimpse of Colby, who was understandably stoic. His eyes were going not to the jury—but to the bench. He and the judge were communicating, if only with their eyes.
Judge Perry continued pounding his gavel. “I will have order or I will have this courtroom cleared!”
Eventually the clamor quieted, although Ben could see the parents were so excited they could barely sit still.
Perry peered down at the jury. “So say you one, so say you all?”
The twelve heads in the jury box nodded. Even Mrs. Johnsons.
“Then I suppose we’ve reached the part of the trial where I’m supposed to thank you for doing such a fine service to the community and dismiss you. But I’m not going to do it.”
Ben felt his blood turn cold. What was happening here?
“I’m not going to thank you, because you don’t deserve to be thanked. You were instructed to reach a logical, fair verdict based on the evidence presented, without resort to sympathy or other emotional considerations. But you have failed to do that.”
Colby, never one to miss an opening, rose. “Your honor, I move that this court enter a judgment notwithstanding the verdict.”
Ben leapt up. “Your honor, there’s no—”
“The motion will be granted,” Perry said, before Ben could so much as finish a sentence. “I dislike taking a case away from the jury. I put it off as long as possible, hoping that when the time came the jury would take the appropriate action. But you didn’t.” He glared at the jury scornfully. “The fact is, the plaintiffs presented no credible scientific evidence to establish causation between their injuries and the alleged acts of the defendant. Despite that fact, you not only found for the plaintiffs, but awarded them a huge sum of money in punitive damages. Much as I dislike interfering, to allow a jury award of that magnitude to stand would be a gross miscarriage of justice. I therefore strike the jury’s verdict and enter judgment for the defendant.”