“As long as you’re not married to her.”
“You will not be on my jury,” Marc laughed.
Shortly after 2:00 that afternoon, Carolyn called back to Marc and told him a messenger with a delivery was here. Marc went out front to find a pleasant looking, young African-American man waiting for him. He was dressed in slacks, a shirt and a tie.
Marc shook his hand and asked, “Are you clerking for Judge Carr?”
“Yes, sir,” the young man said as he handed Marc a manila envelope.
“Where are you going to school?” Marc asked then turned his head to see Barry Cline come out of his office.
“William Mitchell, sir,” the clerk said.
“Our Alma Mater,” Barry said. “Won’t be long before you’re rich and famous.”
“If you marry well,” Marc said. “Is this the jury pool?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please stop calling me sir. It just reminds me I’m not getting any younger.”
“Yes, sir. I mean Marc, sir.”
“How many names on the list,” Marc asked him.
“Um, I, ah, didn’t look.”
“Yes, you did,” Marc laughed. “How many names?”
“A hundred,” the young man smiled.
“Thanks for bringing it by,” Marc said.
Along with the list of the one hundred prospective jurors, Marc received the juror questionnaires for each. When someone is summoned to jury duty they must fill out a juror questionnaire either online or by mail. It is an informational form to get basic personal data to be used to weed out biases, hardships and other reasons someone might be excused. Marc had Jeff Modell, the office paralegal, make several copies of all of this paperwork. While Jeff was making the copies Connie Mickelson came out of her office.
“Did I see that yummy hunk of beef, Butch Koll, here a little while ago?” Connie asked.
Marc looked at Barry and said, “That’s all they ever think about. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting tired of being treated as a sex object.”
Amid the laughter Barry replied, “I know what you mean. I wish they’d start appreciating us for our minds, sensitivity and inner beauty.”
Connie looked at Carolyn groaned and said, “It’s getting a little deep in here.”
“I’d say,” Carolyn replied.
“You got your jury list?” Connie asked.
“Yeah. Jeff’s making copies. You got time to help?” Marc asked.
“Sure. What are you looking for?” Connie asked.
“I don’t know. Twelve women married to assholes they’d like to kill would be good.”
“So, just pick any twelve married women and you’ll be all set,” Carolyn said.
“Wow!” Marc, said looking at Carolyn. “Where did that come from? Trouble in paradise? Should I call John and warn him to sleep with his gun handy and one eye open?”
“No, of course not. I didn’t mean my Johnny,” Carolyn said trying to look innocent.
For the remainder of the afternoon Marc, Barry and Connie, along with Maddy Rivers used the conference room to go through the list. While they did this, Jeff, Sandy and Carolyn used their computers to get what they could on each of the names. Jeff was a fair, amateur hacker who could get into some accounts and find out financial details of people. Of course, this was not strictly legal but…
Their intention was to come up with a spreadsheet categorizing each of the jurors as one of three things: a definite ‘yes’, a definite ‘no’ or a ‘maybe’. For the ‘maybes’, they would further break them down with a number on a scale of one to ten. A one would be almost a definite ‘no’, a ten close to a definite ‘yes’. Mostly what they were looking for were fairly well educated people who would keep an open mind, not be influenced by pretrial publicity and follow the law.
Normally the staff would leave at 5:00 and the lawyers by around 6:00. During a trial as important as this one and to help Marc with the list, everyone agreed to stay late. At 6:00 they took a break to work on the pizza Marc had delivered.
They were all seated around the conference room table eating when Connie asked Marc, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, is Otis Carr still mad at you?”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Marc said.
“Why would Carr be mad at you? What did you do?” Barry asked.
“I brought a motion requesting that he recuse himself,” Marc said.
“On what grounds?” Barry asked.
Marc looked at Maddy and said, “Go ahead, tell him what you found.”
“Marc had me check up on him,” she began. “There were rumors that his Honor and the Ramsey County Attorney, Shayla Parker were very close friends.”
“Oh, good, courthouse gossip. I like it,” Barry said.
“Anyway, I have photos and other documentation that prove that the rumors are true,” Maddy said.
“They’re both married and not to each other,” Connie chimed in with a big grin.
“Are you serious?” Barry said looking at Marc. “Does he realize how much trouble he could get into?”
“Otis is a smart guy. I’m sure he knows,” Connie answered him.
“What did he say?” Barry asked.
“I didn’t flat out accuse him but I did tell him that there were rumors going around that the judge and Parker had a close, personal relationship. And in the interest of justice and to avoid the appearance of impropriety, blah, blah, blah, he should step aside.
“The good judge didn’t take that very well,” Marc said with mild sarcasm. “In fact, I thought he was going to come down off the bench and go after me. Needless to say, he didn’t recuse himself. But to answer your question, he doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge.”
“And now you have grounds for an appeal, if you need it,” Connie said.
“And likely reversible error,” Barry added.
“Let’s get back to work,” Marc said.
By Saturday afternoon, with everyone’s input, they had completed the list and were satisfied with the result of the hundred names. Seven were on the definite ‘yes’ list. All seven were college educated women with what appeared to be liberal leanings. Twenty-one were in the definite ‘no’ column. Nineteen men and two women who appeared to be conservative, law and order types. Of the remaining seventy-two, none were close to a ‘no’ categorized as a one or two. Those were already on the ‘definite no’ list. Also, none of the ‘maybes’ were a ten. There were a half-dozen nines but the bulk of the remainders were between three and seven.
Marc and Barry, who would be in court helping Marc with jury selection, were satisfied that they had a reasonable list to work with. Would any of this help? No one actually knew. The old belief that you could probably take the first twelve people through the door and do just as well was likely true this time. Except, no one had the balls to do it.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Marc placed his briefcase and laptop on the table nearest to the jury box. He hung up his overcoat on the coat rack along the wall by his table and removed his phone from the coat’s pocket. It was five minutes past 8:00 A.M. on the first day of the trial. Surprised to find the courtroom empty, he sat down at his table to make a quick call.
“Yeah,” he heard Butch Koll say.
“Hey,” Marc said. “Bring her up and into the courtroom through the back way. There’s a small mob of reporters in the hall. The deputies have the door locked so she can’t get in that way. I’ll have a deputy watch for you to let you in.”
He listened for a moment and noticed the judge’s clerk, the African-American law school student who had delivered the jury list. Marc lightly waved to him then said into the phone, “Okay, I’ll see you in a while.”
“Don’t let the judge see you use a phone in his courtroom,” the young man, Tyrone Carver, said smiling. “He wants you in his chambers,” Tyrone continued. “The prosecution is already in there.”
As Marc walked toward the door behind the bench he asked the clerk what was going on.
Reluctant to tell him, he claimed he did not know. Marc’s antennae went up and he had an uneasy feeling he was not going to like this.
“Have a seat, Marc,” Carr’s baritone voice boomed.
“Good morning, your Honor,” Marc warily said as he sat down noticing the court reporter was not present. He turned to Heather and the younger woman next to her and asked, “Heather, what’s up?”
“We’re asking the judge to revisit his decision to exclude any testimony about your client’s former husband, Wendell Cartwright…”
“Your Honor…” Marc started to say.
“Let her finish,” Carr politely said.
“We’ve been in contact with the Chicago cops, the two detectives who did the investigation. Both are willing to come here, at their own expense, to testify. After we found the searches for heart attack inducing drugs on William Sutherland’s computer, the Chicago P.D. went back into Cartwright’s computer and found a half-dozen similar searches during the months preceding his death.”
“Hold it,” Marc said. “When did you find this out?”
“They got back to us yesterday.”
“Sunday.”
“Yes, Marc,” Heather said, “Sunday.” She handed him a document and continued. “This is an affidavit from the CPD computer tech who found the references on Cartwright’s computer. He’s willing to testify also.” Heather turned to Judge Carr and continued, “We have now established a pattern, your Honor. The jury needs to know about this.”
“Your Honor,” Marc said, “This is so grossly prejudicial and lacking any probative value, if you allow this in it will likely be reversible error.”
“We’re not offering it as proof of the crimes alleged, your Honor,” Heather said. “Only as evidence of a pattern. It is clearly admissible.”
Carr sat forward, folded his big hands together and placed them on the desk blotter. He stared passed the three lawyers arranged before him with his best Solomon-like look on his face. Marc watched him while thinking: The S.O.B. has already made up his mind and I’m about to get hosed.
“I’m inclined to let this in but before I do I want to see in writing exactly what these three Chicago cops are going to say. You will put it in writing and get it to me before we have opening statements. It will also be provided to Mr. Kadella. We’re going to be very careful with this.
“Also, if you want your own tech to search this computer get the name and address and Ms. Anderson will provide it by tomorrow. Understood?” he finished looking at Heather.
“Yes, your Honor,” Heather solemnly said hiding her glee.
“Jason Briggs,” a glum Marc said to her. As she wrote it down, he gave her the address.
“When you put the first of these witnesses from Chicago on the stand, Marc can repeat his objections for the record. I may even sustain them and disallow this. I reserve that right. For now, we’ll go on the assumption I will allow it. Any questions? Good.
“Now, jury selection. I want this done by noon on Wednesday. Keep your questions short and to the point. Two weeks for this trial should be plenty and I don’t like working weekends.
“I’ll be out at 9:00 and we’ll get this show on the road.”
A disappointed Marc Kadella led the way into the courtroom. Aside from losing the judge’s ruling to allow the jury to hear about Wendell Cartwright, something deeper was nagging at the back of his head.
Seated at the desk waiting for him was Barry Cline. Barry was an excellent trial lawyer in his own right and it had become almost habitual for Marc and Barry to help each with jury selection.
“What was that about?” Barry asked Marc referring to the in-chambers meeting.
“I just got royally sandbagged,” Marc said. He told Barry what happened.
“And they just got this yesterday? These people lie really well,” Barry said.
A doorway from the back hall into the courtroom opened and a Ramsey County deputy came through and held it open. In walked Madeline Rivers along with Mackenzie Sutherland and two rather large men, Butch Koll and Andy Whitmore, bringing up the rear.
“Maddy’s here,” Barry whispered. “Listen, why don’t you move to the end of the table and let her have your chair.”
“Next to you?”
“Well, yeah, that’s the idea,” Barry smiled.
They all greeted each other then Marc took Mackenzie into a conference room to bring her up-to-date. While he did this, she removed the Kevlar vest she was wearing.
“What does this mean?” she asked referring to the ruling about her ex, Wendell Cartwright.
“I don’t know,” Marc shrugged. “It means the jury will know about Wendell Cartwright.”
“There’s nothing to know,” she started to protest.
“Wait,” Marc said holding up a hand to stop her. “We’ll deal with it when we get there. One step at a time. Let’s go back and start picking a jury.”
Because this was a first-degree murder case, by law, the jurors had to be questioned individually. This would slow down the process significantly. It would help a lot that the media coverage had died down to almost nothing until about a week ago. With little publicity for several months picking twelve jurors and four alternates who had not heard of the case would not be too difficult. It would also help that most Americans have the attention span of a four-year-old.
The judge’s deadline of noon on Wednesday to have jury selection completed was pushing it. Questioning them one at a time is a naturally slow and tedious process.
Judge Carr had produced a list for the order in which they would be called. That person would be brought out and the judge would ask a few questions to get things started. He would then let the lawyers question the individual.
Marc, as the lawyer for the defense, would go first. What the lawyers are supposed to do is probe for biases. They would also use this opportunity to indoctrinate the juror. Marc would always inquire about the juror’s ability to set aside any prejudice, to keep an open mind and decide the case solely on what was presented in court. Also, to make sure he or she understood what the presumption of innocence was and proof beyond a reasonable doubt. About the best Marc could hope for was jurors who claimed to understand these concepts and promise to be open-minded.
The first venireman called – the panel from which the jury is selected is called a venire, (pronounced vuh-near) – was a sixty-four-year-old retiree named William Stokes. Stokes was a stocky, balding, pleasant man who secretly wanted to be on the jury. Before arriving to do jury duty he had been coached by a lawyer who was a good friend. He was told not to look anxious to be on the jury, to be honest and promise to be open-minded.
Carr spent a few minutes asking about obvious bias due to the publicity. Stokes’ friend had told him to admit he had heard about it but normally did not pay much attention to the media. They simply could not be trusted.
Marc introduced himself and Mackenzie then politely walked Stokes through his questions. He appeared open, honest and sincere. His promise to keep an open mind and decide the case based on the law and the facts certainly seemed genuine. Marc found the man acceptable and turned him over to Heather Anderson.
Heather spent barely five minutes with him before agreeing he could serve on the jury. Stokes was smiling as the deputy led him away to wait until the rest of the jury was selected. One down, eleven regular jurors and four alternates to go.
With short breaks in mid-morning and mid-afternoon and an hour for lunch, the process boringly crawled along until 5:00 P.M. By that time and only because Carr had pushed, a total of four jurors were selected.
“We’ll adjourn for the day,” Carr said as the most recent venireman, a twenty-eight-year-old, obviously liberal student who was attending college for a career and letting dad pay for it, was being led away. Despite the obvious lie he had told about not being biased against the 1%, the judge and prosecutor found him acceptable. Marc was forced to use one of his peremptory challenges to keep him off of the jury.
; “Tomorrow morning we are going to start at 8:00 and go until 6:00,” Carr told the lawyers. “I meant what I said about having a jury impaneled by Wednesday afternoon.”
As everyone was filing out, Marc, Barry, Mackenzie and Maddy chatted about the selections. The first juror, Bill Stokes, had originally been on Marc’s list as a ‘maybe’ with a low score of four. One of the other three had been a ‘yes’ and the other two ‘maybes’ with high secondary scores. In addition to the last venireman questioned, the professional college student, Marc had used two other peremptory challenges to exclude people. All three of them had been on his list as a definite “no.”
“What do you think?” Maddy asked Marc.
“We did okay,” Marc replied. “In theory, we only need one to hold out.”
“What do you think?” Maddy asked Barry.
“I think we did better than okay. That first one, Stokes, a working-man who would chew off his arm rather than vote for a Republican, seemed to be the worst of the four of them for our side and I got a good vibe from him. I think he’ll be fair.”
“You going back to the office?” Mackenzie asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Marc said as he packed up. “Go over the list some more. See if Jeff and Sandy found anything else. Sleep is a luxury during a trial.”
“Mind if I come with?” Mackenzie asked. Marc had received permission for her to travel to his office during the trial.
“Sure,” Marc said. He looked at Mackenzie’s bodyguards, Butch and Andy and asked. “How are you guys doing? Bored yet?”
“I think it’s interesting,” Andy said. “Makes me wish I’d gone to law school.”
Marc looked at Barry and said, “The glamour. It’s the glamour that is so appealing.”
“Obviously,” Barry said. “And the wealth and acclaim. The high esteem in which the public holds lawyers.”
“Yeah, that too,” Andy said totally getting the joke. “You mind if we come back to the office? We could help.”
“Sure, why not?” Marc said.
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 207