“Maybe I’m just being selfish,” I say, “not thinking about my client.”
“How’s that?” asks Kevin.
“Look at the irony here. We’re trying to convince the jury that Quintana is a killer. If he kills me, or even tries to, it makes our case.” It’s a poor attempt at lightening the mood, yet it actually contains a grain of truth.
“I’d better call Marcus,” Laurie says, and I don’t try to stop her.
The meeting finally breaks up, and though this is Tuesday, not one of the nights that Laurie and I stay together, she says that she’d like to. I can’t tell whether she wants to be with me or wants to watch out for me in Marcus’s absence. I don’t dwell on it for more than a few seconds. Laurie wants to sleep with me, and whatever the reason, passion or protection, it’s more than fine with me.
* * * * *
DYLAN HAS A surprise waiting for me when Judge Harrison asks if the lawyers have anything to bring up before he calls the jury in. He introduces a motion asking that the defense be prohibited from bringing irrelevant matters, like the drug underworld, into the case.
“If there is evidence that these people killed Troy Preston,” says Dylan, “then by all means it should come in. However, mere evidence that they simply knew Troy Preston has no place in this trial.”
Harrison turns to me. “Mr. Carpenter?”
“Your Honor, the motion is without merit, and would be so even if it weren’t totally untimely. The prosecution has known for weeks of our intention in this area, yet they chose to wait until opening statements to contest it.”
Dylan responds, “Your Honor, we would submit that the murder last night of Mr. Paul Moreno, which was widely reported this morning, makes this motion more pressing. The potential exists that it can turn this trial into a media circus, without having any real relevance.”
“How about if you rely on me not to turn this trial into a circus?” Harrison responds dryly.
Dylan immediately goes into damage control mode. “I’m sorry, Your Honor, but I was referring to the atmosphere outside of court. I worry about the influence on the jurors.”
Harrison turns to me. “Your Honor,” I say, “the prosecution position is ludicrous on its face. As I understand it, they have asked the court that we not be allowed to present evidence showing that the victim associated with murderers. They choose to make that request the very morning after those same people are involved in another murder. Speaking for myself, the mind boggles.”
Harrison rules promptly, as is his style. He refuses to prohibit our pointing toward Preston’s associates in our defense, though he will not let us go too far afield. Dylan is annoyed; he believed he had a chance to undercut our defense before we even began. Now he has to collect his thoughts and give his opening statement.
He begins by thanking the jurors for their service, praising their sacrifice and sense of duty. He doesn’t mention their future TV appearances and book deals, just as I won’t when it’s my turn. It’s the unfortunate duty of us lawyers to kiss twelve asses and six alternate asses during every trial.
“There is a lot of attention being paid to this case,” Dylan says. “You have only to try and park near the courthouse to know that.” He smiles, and the jurors smile with him.
“But at its heart it’s a very simple case. A man was murdered, and very conclusive evidence, evidence that you will hear in detail, pointed toward this man, Kenny Schilling, as the murderer. The police went to talk to him about it, and he pulled out a gun and prevented them from entering his house. And why did he do this? Because the victim’s body was in his bedroom, stuffed in his closet.”
Dylan shakes his head, as if amazed by what he is saying. “No, this is not a complicated case, and it is certainly not a whodunit. Troy Preston, a young man, an athlete in the prime of life, was shot through the back of the head. And this man”-he points to Kenny-“Kenny Schilling, supposedly his friend, he’s the one who ‘dunit.’
“Mr. Carpenter will not be able to refute the facts of the case, no matter how hard he tries. He will realize this-he does already-and he’ll try to create diversions. He’ll tell you that the victim, who is not here to defend himself, associated with bad people, people capable of committing murder. Some of it will be true, and some not, but I’ll tell you this: None of it will matter. Even if Troy Preston hung out on a street corner every night with Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein, it still would not matter. Because those people, bad as they are, did not commit this particular murder, and that’s all you’re being asked to care about. And soon it will be very clear to you that Kenny Schilling committed this murder, and that’s the reason he’s the man on trial.”
Dylan goes on to detail some of the evidence in his arsenal, knowing full well he can back it all up with witnesses and lab reports. By the time he’s finished, he’s done a very good job, and it doesn’t take a mind reader to know that the jury was hanging on his every word. The entire world believes Kenny Schilling is guilty, and as members of this world, that’s the predisposition the jurors brought here with them. Dylan’s words only served to reinforce their belief, so they considered him totally credible.
Kenny looks depressed, and I lean over and whisper a reminder that he is supposed to look interested and thoughtful, but not to betray any emotional reaction at all. It’s easier said than done; the words he’s just heard from Dylan would be enough to depress anyone.
I stand up to give our opening statement with a modest goal. Right now the jury is thinking that the prosecution has all the cards, and though that may be true, I’ve at least got to show that this is not a mismatch, that we are a force to be reckoned with.
“I’m a curious guy” is how I begin. “When something happens, I like to know why. I want things to make sense, and I feel comfortable when they do.
“When the thing that happens is a crime, then the ‘why’ is called motive. It’s something the police look for in trying to figure out who is the guilty party. If there is a reason or a motive for a person to have done it, then that person becomes a suspect.”
I point toward Dylan. “Mr. Campbell didn’t mention motive; he didn’t point to a single reason why Kenny Schilling might have killed Troy Preston. Now, legally, he doesn’t have to prove what the motive was, but wouldn’t it be nice to have an idea? If someone is on trial for his very life, wouldn’t it be nice to understand why he might have done something? And wouldn’t it be nice to know if someone else really did have a motive and a history of murder?”
I walk over to Kenny and put my arm on his shoulder. “Kenny Schilling has never committed a crime, never been charged with a crime, never been arrested. Never. Not once. He has been a model citizen his entire life, achieved a high degree of success in a very competitive field, and as you will hear, has been a good friend to an astonishing number of people, including the victim. Yet Mr. Campbell would have you believe that he suddenly decided to shoot his friend and leave a trail of evidence that a five-year-old could follow.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t make sense. We need to have an idea why.
“Well, let’s try this on for size. Troy Preston had other friends, friends with a record not quite as spotless as Kenny’s. In fact, they were more than friends; they were business associates. And that business was a dangerous one: the importation and sale of illegal drugs. And it turns out that Troy’s other friends kill people.