The Ultimate Resolution

by Dave Sullivan

  "Now, we'll try out your testimony so you can get used to the questions and the feel of the courtroom," said Jake. "Remember, it is not your job to get your story across. It is my job to ask the proper questions so you understand. You simply listen to the questions and tell the truth."

  Jake turned to face the bench. "May we proceed, your Honor?" he grinned at Charles.

  "You may." Charles Stanton did not grin back. "Call your first witness."

  Although Jake expected to call Sarah Pallmeyer as the first witness at trial, he decided not to practice with her in front of the other witnesses.

  "Plaintiff calls Fred Slattery, your Honor"

  Using his trial notebook, Jake took each witness through the direct examination he had outlined. Occasionally Charles would make an objection from the bench and then rule on it himself. He and Jake would then explain the nature of the objection, the ruling and what they would do in trial if such an objection were made. At the end of the testimony, Jake told each witness what he thought they might expect on cross examination.

  During the examination of the witnesses, Judge Riley entered the courtroom from her chambers. Charles immediately started to get up, but she smiled and waved him back. She took a seat at her bailiff's table against the side wall of the courtroom opposite the jury box and watched Jake work. The judge had dark mahogany red hair which framed a freckled face and mischievous bright emerald eyes. She wore a light green suit. Normally in the courtroom, she would of course be wearing her black judge's robe.

  Jake stopped his examination of Jeanne Albright from Greysolon Health Care Facility to introduce Judge Riley to the witnesses.

  "This is the judge who graciously loaned us her courtroom," he said. "See, they aren't so scary. Not nearly as scary as Charles up there."

  One of the witnesses giggled and Judge Riley laughed. She said, "Please don't stop on my account. I'd like to watch a little if you don't mind."

  "So would I." The voice belonged to a man wearing a white shirt and tie but no coat. He carried a judge's black robe tossed over his left shoulder. He headed toward the chair on the other side of the bailiff's table.

  "This is Judge …," Judge Riley started introductions but the man extended his hand toward Jake and spoke.

  "Digger Moss," he said. "We've met. Mike Reynolds introduced us."

  "Please stay, both of you," said Jake. "We are happy to have you, especially since it is your courtroom, Judge Riley."

  When they had finished with all of the witnesses, Charles joined Jake at the counsel tables facing the witnesses in the front row benches. They talked about the trial generally, explained how the witnesses would be kept informed of the schedule and answered the questions they had. Even Judges Riley and Moss joined in the discussion and answered some of their questions from a judge's standpoint.

  Back in Bay Harbor they finished their pre-trial submissions. Using the fax machine to send draft copies back and forth to the word processing section of the Stratton office, they drafted a trial brief, witness list, exhibit list, requested jury instructions and a proposed verdict form. As a part of the trial brief they attached several highlighted cases, for easy reference by the trial judge. Besides the originals being filed with the Court Administrator, the copies being served on opposing counsel, and their own file copies, Jake and Charles had extra copies made and bound under a title sheet entitled "Court's Work Copies." One of these was sent directly to the judge; another to the judge’s law clerk. Two others were initialed for Jake and Charles as their own work copies for trial and one was sent to Sarah Pallmeyer.

  "A good way to do it, Jake," said Charles admiring the finished product they had received by overnight mail from the Stratton office to be signed and mailed. "The judge will love to see this little booklet. He can take it home if he wants. He can mark it up. Seems to me it makes it easier for the judge to get an advanced idea of what the case is about and still provide an easy reference during trial."

  "I never met a judge who complained about getting one of these books of work copies," acknowledged Jake. "Lots of times, that book becomes the model for picking jury instructions and deciding the law of the case."

  Bert Hanson arrived at Charles' door.

  "Thought I'd find you two working here when I saw Resolution still tied to the dock," he said as he entered through the kitchen.

  "Just wrapping up the final preparation here, Bert," said Charles. "We'll be in Minneapolis most of next week and then it's the trial. What else have you learned?"

  "Nothing more yet," Bert poured himself a mug of coffee from the coffee maker on the kitchen counter, "but I have a few more leads to follow up."

  "Any sign of more trouble?" asked Jake.

  "Nope. Whoever the sons of bitches are that screwed around with my car before were certainly following me to know who I was and what I was doing. I think they thought they could get away with what they did without getting caught. Now, though, they must know I'm hooked up with Jack Green. I think they figure it's not worth it to try again with the St. Louis Police Department around. Besides, maybe I haven't got close to whatever it is they were worried about, yet."

  "Oh, good," sighed Charles, "you mean you're saying they might still be watching you to go after you if you get onto something?"

  "Maybe."

  "What does Green think?" asked Jake.

  "He agrees with me," answered Bert. "He thinks they've blown their cover in a sense, and that they won't try again."

  "Let's hope so," said Charles.

  "You going back?" Jake asked Bert.

  "Yep. Never finished following up the leads in the documents."

  "Okay," said Jake, "just be careful."

  The next week, Jake and Charles went to Minneapolis. They met and reviewed testimony with their economist expert witness at the University of Minnesota on the Minneapolis campus. They spent two days reviewing their research, their trial notebooks and the file at the Stratton office. Thursday at noon they took a walk through the Como Park Conservatory in St. Paul, had a lunch of sandwiches and soft drinks at a picnic table in the grass nearby, and walked around Lake Como on the asphalt walking path. It was a warm, bright sunny day.

  "I've decided that retirement suits me," announced Charles as they walked along beside the small lake, "or at least this degree of semi-retirement suits me. In what other job could we be enjoying this lovely day here in Como Park at two o'clock in the afternoon?"

  "Teaching?" chided Jake with a smile.

  "Touché!" replied Charles. "Although teaching was a full time job just dealing with students like you." He stopped the bantering with an inquiry.

  "Do you think we're ready?"

  "About as ready as we can be," answered Jake. "I propose we leave the file at the Stratton office, take only our trial notebooks, the brief and one set of exhibits and go sailing at home this weekend."

  They did exactly that. By 4:00 o'clock Jake's Jeep Cherokee was headed north on I-35 away from the Twin Cities and toward the Apostle Islands. They did not forget about the case completely. They talked about it on the trip home, referring to the trial notebook or an occasional exhibit when they wished. They even continued their discussions out on Lake Superior aboard Resolution, but it was a relaxed discussion which they enjoyed. They sailed out to Rocky Island and stayed at the dock there overnight on Friday night. Saturday, they spent the afternoon on the beach on York Island in the hot sun. That night, Resolution anchored off the Raspberry Island sand spit to be close to Raspberry Bay for the run in on Sunday morning. Nothing came to mind that changed any of their preparation. Even as they returned to the Cities on Sunday afternoon, their game plan for the trial was the same as it had been at Como Park the previous Thursday afternoon. They were: "Ready for trial."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Jake arrived early at the courthouse. As he walked across the courtyard on the second floor past the reflection pool toward the elevators of the courts tower, he saw very few people. The usual bustling crowd and ste
ady din of voices, the sound of heels striking the hard floor were gone. Instead of the normal several minute wait for the elevator and the crowded elevator car, the elevator was waiting. He was the only passenger.

  He was the first to enter the courtroom. Having already decided the counsel chair he preferred, which was closest to the jury, he claimed the territory by placing parts of his file and a yellow pad on counsel table and his briefcase on the floor beside the chair.

  Jake surveyed the empty courtroom. The rear third was seating for observers and waiting witnesses. It was separated from the court and counsel by a railing. A center aisle traversed the seating section from the courtroom entrance at the rear to a swinging gate of light oak matching the oak railing. In front of the railing were the two side by side counsel tables, the jury box to the left, and the bench directly in front of counsel tables with the high-backed judge's chair behind it. In front of the bench were smaller tables and desks for the clerk, bailiff and court reporter. The witness box was adjacent to the bench between the bench and the jury. All the furnishings were built in cabinet work of light stained oak. Behind the bench stood an American flag on the judge's left and a flag of the State of Minnesota on the judge's right.

  In the corner near the jury box was a door to the jury deliberation room. In the other corner was the entrance to the judge's chambers. Near the door to the jury room stood an easel and a podium stand on wheels which would be used during the trial.

  Having claimed his territory, Jake took his trial notebook out into the hallway. He looked out into the interior of the Hennepin County Government Center between the Courts Tower and the Administrative Tower and down to the courtyard far below. He checked his watch. Ten after Eight. Plenty of time, he thought, and took the elevator to the Law Library on the twenty-fourth floor to review his voir dire notes and his opening statement.

  When Charles Stanton found him, Jake was seated at a long table in the library's main room overlooking the Mississippi River and the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome, home of the Minnesota Twins and the Minnesota Vikings.

  "I thought I'd find you here." said Charles. "I see you've been to the courtroom."

  "Always best to get there first," said Jake, looking up from his notebook. "You can't always do it, but it never hurts."

  "Superstitious?"

  "No, I think it's better to pick your spot in relation to the jury. In some courtrooms, it doesn't matter, but in most, I think it better to be close to the jury, as long as you can make eye contact without craning your neck."

  Stanton smiled. "You mean it isn't just the facts and the law that influences jurors?"

  Jake knew the professor was needling him a little, but he responded, perhaps as a refresher and reminder to himself as he was about to start a trial. "However we can establish credibility and a rapport with the jury, it is important. It's usually easier to do if you're closer to the box."

  Stanton looked at his watch. "Ready?"

  "Ready to proceed, your Honor," As he stood and closed his notebook, Jake mimicked the formal tone he would use in court.

  "Let's go, then," said Charles, turning toward the front desk and library entrance.

  As they approached the courtroom, there was a small group of people in the hallway by the courtroom entrance. Jake saw opposing counsel, Everett Whittemore from St. Louis and Ed Hamilton from Minneapolis talking intently with two men in business suits.

  "Good morning," said Jake as he passed them on his way to the courtroom.

  "Good morning, Jacob," responded Everett Whittemore. He called after Jake. "I'd like you to meet my clients."

  Jake turned back.

  "You remember Dick Ellington from the depositions. This is Phillip Marquard, President of Cherokee Tractor & Implement Company. Phil, this is Jacob Kingsley, the plaintiffs' attorney."

  "How do you do, Mr. Marquard?" Jake extended a hand.

  "Fine, thank you." said Phillip Marquard, lightly touching Jake's hand with his own and then withdrawing.

  "And this is Professor Charles Stanton," said Jake, gesturing toward Charles who came forward beaming, extended the hand of a grizzly bear, and received the same limp greeting.

  Each counsel table had three chairs. When she arrived, Jake and Charles would place Sarah between them at counsel table.

  Jake saw Sarah come around the corner from the elevators. She wore a navy skirt and blazer with a white blouse. The skirt length came to just above the knees. She wore high-heeled, navy shoes and carried a black leather purse on a shoulder strap. Her yellow hair was pulled back to a black headband from which it fell straight to her shoulders.

  Jake went to meet her. Her blue eyes met his and her face softened. "Hi," she smiled, "it's good to see a familiar face. This is a crowded place."

  "Lots of business goes on in this building," said Jake, "that's for sure. Come. The courtroom is this way."

  He led her through the crowd to counsel table and pulled the center chair for her. As they arrived, Charles Stanton rose from his chair smiling.

  "Good morning," said Charles to Sarah. "Ready to go to work?"

  "I hope so," said Sarah nervously as she seated herself.

  Shortly before 9:00 a. m., a bailiff escorted about twenty members of the jury panel into the courtroom. They were seated behind the oak railing. The room was silent, waiting for the judge.

  "All rise!" commanded the deep voice of the bailiff as Judge Hawthorne entered the courtroom and climbed the few steps to his elevated bench. He stood at the center of the bench surveying the courtroom. He struck the gavel once as he sat in the high backed chair, saying, "You may be seated."

  Jake sat down. He looked at the counsel table in front of him. Besides the microphones, water pitcher, and paper cups, he had only a thin black three ring binder, a bound copy of their trial brief and requested jury instructions, a plain yellow pad and three ball point pens - black, red and blue. These items were neatly arranged on the oak table. Most of the surface before him was uncluttered polished oak.

  At the other end of Plaintiffs' table, Charles Stanton had a similar notebook, bound brief and a plain yellow pad in front of him.

  At the defense table, Whittemore, Hamilton and company - chairs had been drawn to the table to accommodate two more associates - had stacks of files and depositions, two bankers' boxes full of documents, and numerous legal pads with written notes. The bankers' boxes were on the floor. The piles of paper on counsel table were threatening to upset the water pitcher and bury the microphones.

  Jake smiled to himself. He didn't know if the appearance of neatness gave the jury or the court the impression of organization and preparation, but he thought so. He also knew that he could not comfortably try a case from a counsel table like the defense side had on this occasion. He was, however, mildly surprised that C. Everett Whittemore would have such apparent disarray on counsel table in front of the jury. Jake's limited experience with him so far would indicate otherwise. Maybe Whittemore wanted the jury to see how complex the whole case was. Whatever, Jake was sure it had been thoroughly considered.

  He turned to look at the jury panel in the back of the room. As usual with jurors, they were people of varying appearance and attire. Some were Caucasian, some black, some Hispanic and one Asian. By Jake's very quick rough count, it looked like slightly more than half were women. Some of the men wore coats and ties, while some wore casual or work clothes. Similarly, some of the women were dressed up and some wore blue jeans.

  Jake turned to face the bench as Judge Hawthorne spoke.

  "This is the case of Sarah J. Pallmeyer, Guardian ad Litem for Robert A. Pallmeyer vs. Cherokee Tractor & Implement Company, File No. 92-Civ-1763. Will counsel note their appearances for the record, please?"

  Jake stood and addressed the court. "Jacob Kingsley and Professor Charles Stanton for plaintiff, your Honor." He sat back down.

  At defense counsel table, Ed Hamilton rose. "I'm Edward Hamilton, your Honor. With me for the defense is Mr. Everett C. Whittemore
of St. Louis who has been previously admitted pro hac vice for this case. Also joining us at counsel table for the defense are associates George Ballard from Mr. Whittemore's office and Richard Edwards from my office." As he spoke, each attorney he introduced rose half way out of his chair and nodded to the court.

  "Very well, is Plaintiff ready?"

  Jake rose, "Ready, your Honor."

  "Is Defendant ready?"

  Everett Whittemore stood at defense table. "Everett Whittemore, your Honor. Defense is ready to proceed."

  Judge Hawthorne looked over the heads of the lawyers to the back of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury panel, today we have a civil case. It involves a claim for damages for injuries to a Robert Pallmeyer in 1990. Plaintiffs allege that the tractor Mr. Pallmeyer was operating at the time of his injuries was defectively designed and manufactured and that those defects caused the injuries. Defendant manufactured the tractor. Defendant contends that the tractor was properly designed and manufactured and that Mr. Pallmeyer was not properly operating the tractor when the accident occurred. The Plaintiff is Sarah J. Pallmeyer, Robert Pallmeyer's mother, who has been appointed Guardian ad Litem by this court. Defendant is Cherokee Tractor & Implement Company of St. Louis, Missouri."

  Judge Hawthorne went on to introduce the parties and their lawyers. He explained the voir dire process that was about to begin.

  "Voir dire are French words meaning to speak the truth," he explained. "During this part of the trial, the lawyers will have an opportunity to ask you questions regarding your background and your beliefs as they may reflect on your ability to sit as fair and impartial jurors on this case. Don't be insulted or offended by their questions. It is part of their job, here. Besides," he smiled at the prospective jurors, "I won't let them get too far out of line, and," he looked at counsel, "I trust they won't try." A few of the jurors laughed nervously.