We, the Jury

by Robert Rotstein

  “I’m not a lawyer,” says the Jury Consultant. “We shouldn’t be speculating about evidence that wasn’t admitted. All we know is that David never denied the incident on the stand. Something for us all to think about.”

  I’m so confused. Why didn’t the judge let Dillon testify about the incident? As the foreperson, I can’t let the other jurors know that I’m confused. I’m sure most of them are just as confused as I am. More.

  “Yes,” I say. “Food for thought.”

  THE HONORABLE

  NATALIE QUINN-GILBERT

  Two knocks on my door, a pause, and two more. The pattern repeats. Ed Halleck.

  “Another moment, Natalie?”

  Another? Was he here before? When …?

  “Of course,” I say.

  As the presiding judge, he has the job of scolding us ordinary judges about tardiness and clogged dockets. I never thought of this before, but he reminds me of the time when I was a seventeen-year-old girl, working a summer job at a long since defunct burger place called “Woody’s Smorgasburger.” We had to dress up in blue-and-yellow Swedish folk dresses, take an order, and cook a hamburger by the time the customer paid at the cash register. “Push ’em through!” the manager, a horrible, gropey, vindictive junior-college dropout named Jerry, would say to us. I still don’t know whether he was talking about the customers or the burgers. That’s Ed Halleck’s role: move the cases through quickly. Push ’em through! I’ve never thought about that before.

  “I hope this isn’t about my walk,” I say.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I took a walk this morning, and the jury sent a note while I was gone.”

  “Not the end of the world. We’re not chained to our desks.”

  “It’s unusual for me. My clerk and bailiff panicked, got the idea I had wandered off in some fog.”

  He strokes his chin and says, “Oh,” drawing out the word with a heterodyne lilt. Ed’s signature “oh” is at once an acknowledgment of what you’ve just said, an expression of surprise, an empathetic moan, and a noncommittal reservation of judgment. There’s brilliance in Ed Halleck’s “oh’s.”

  “I’m fine, Ed. It was a walk. So you don’t need to—”

  “That isn’t why I’ve come to see you, Natalie. I’ve come because of this.”

  He hands me several sheets of paper. I put on my glasses and start reading. Printouts from the website of reporter Kelsi Cunningham, who almost flimflammed me until Mick Redmond showed up at my house and came to my rescue.

  When I finish, I look up at Ed and say, “Good Lord. What do I do now?”

  “I’m sure you know exactly what to do,” he says. “I’m sorry I had to bring this to your attention.”

  JUROR NO. 43

  THE CLERGYMAN

  These deliberations are not proceeding as I had thought they would, as I had hoped they would, and that eventuality has caused me to face a moral and ethical choice unlike any that I have ever faced. Since the writing of the Old Testament, the concept of good and evil has been binary, but for me, in the Sullinger case, it is ternary. In one corner is the law. In the other two corners, we have right and wrong, which do not necessarily coincide with the law. My trilemma is, which option do I choose? I had surmised that the law and the right would coincide, but that will not necessarily happen. It would seem my choice is obvious—the right, the good—but that is not so. It is never so. II Corinthians 11:14: “No wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.”

  I rue the day I met Amanda Sullinger.

  JUROR NO. 11

  THE STUDENT

  The Express Messenger raises his hand like we’re in a classroom, and I wonder if he’s doing it to annoy the Grandmother, who I guess was his teacher or vice principal or something back in the day. Whatever happened between her and me, she’s old and sick, and we shouldn’t be mean to her. Having her prejudice exposed is causing her pain. Maybe I’m not a nice person deep down, but I feel like that should cause her pain. That’s her punishment. We don’t need to punish her more.

  “Yes, sir,” the Foreperson says, delighted to be in charge again.

  “I’m changing my vote to guilty,” the Express Messenger says. “David should’ve said something about the cooking school incident. He should’ve answered Reese’s allegations. He should’ve explained what happened in the kitchen.”

  The Housewife rolls her eyes, and the Clergyman takes a huffing breath.

  “Anyone else changing their vote?” the Foreperson asks. Everyone shakes their head but me.

  “I’m not changing, either,” the Foreperson says.

  So, excluding me, it’s four to three. The Housewife, the Architect, the Foreperson, and the Clergyman are still voting not guilty. The Jury Consultant, the Grandmother, and the Express Messenger want to convict David Sullinger. All eyes are on me—even the Clergyman’s—which frightens me.

  What to do? (Oh, my God, I sound like my mom. She says that all the time.) The Jury Consultant and even the Grandmother have made good points about Lacey not being all that credible and about David not refuting the cooking school chef’s testimony. So that favors a guilty verdict. But I’m not a fan of either Dillon or Beckermann, the racist cop, and that makes me lean toward voting not guilty. I’m just not sure. I feel like it’s not right to convict a person on not sure.

  “Not guilty,” I say. “Reasonable doubt still. It’s all so fuzzy, and I can’t convict on fuzzy.”

  The Clergyman smiles at this, but it’s a pained smile, with downcast eyes and tight lips.

  “Amen,” the Housewife says. “Reasonable doubt. Other than doing some name-calling, we haven’t really talked about the expert psychologists. The defense expert, who’s far more qualified, testified that David exhibited all the symptoms of a battered spouse. Amanda constantly criticized him. Even Dillon confirmed that, so no factual dispute there. And she was constantly accusing David of cheating on her.”

  “He did cheat on her,” the Express Messenger says.

  “We’ll get to that,” the Housewife says. “Amanda punished the kids when she was angry at him. We know about the horrible violence—kicking, hitting, biting, not to mention scalding him with a hot pot and pushing his hand down on the grill. Classic behavior of a female abuser.”

  “If you believe that really happened,” the Jury Consultant says.

  “Of course it really happened,” the Housewife says. “The expert testified—”

  “You can hire an expert to testify to anything,” the Grandmother says. “Especially if you’re Jenna Blaylock. I’m beginning to agree with my colleague on the other side of the table that the defense expert is a whore.” She tilts her head toward the Express Messenger, obviously desperate to make friends from any quarter. I can’t help giggling at that, and it’s not the time to giggle. The Grandmother forces a smile, but from the way she straightened her back, I can tell she didn’t like my laughter.

  “According to the psychologist, David believed Amanda was omnipresent and omniscient—that she still is even though she’s dead,” the Housewife says. “David often referred to Amanda in the present tense while he was testifying. He even said Amanda would be alive today if he’d been a better husband and father. A classic abused spouse.”

  “How do we know he wasn’t faking it?” the Grandmother says. “I think he was faking it.”

  “The defense psychologist checked for that,” the Housewife says. “His examination of David turned up no indication of fakery.”

  “Except, the prosecution’s expert testified that David is a psychopath,” the Grandmother says. “How did she explain it? Two of the symptoms of a psychopath are the ability to charm and the ability to lie effectively. Also irresponsibility, inflated self-worth, unrealistic goals. David couldn’t hold a job, because no job was good enough for him. I’d say that was irresponsible, that he has a huge ego.”


  “The prosecution’s expert comes from outer space,” the Housewife says. “She doesn’t believe a man can ever be a battered spouse at the hands of a woman. Her radical feminist theories aren’t mainstream. She’s the sexist.”

  “I don’t see it that way,” the Grandmother says.

  “Me, neither,” the Express Messenger says.

  Strange bedfellows, as my dad would say.

  There’s a knock on the door that makes me jump and makes everyone else go quiet. The bailiff sticks his head in and says, “You’re all going to go on break for a while.”

  “It’s still early in the afternoon, Deputy Brad,” the Foreperson says. She calls him Deputy Brad because she can’t pronounce Kobashigawa. “We’re going hot and heavy here, so maybe …?”

  “The judge ordered you to take a break,” he says in a stern tone I’ve never heard him use before. He points toward someone at the head of the table. “The judge would like to speak to you in chambers.”

  JUROR NO. 52

  THE EXPRESS MESSENGER / ACTOR

  I haven’t bitten my fingernails in six years. I was this close to getting a recurring role in a TV series once, but at my final audition, the casting director noticed I was a nail biter and dinged me for it. So I stopped. Now I’m doing it again. I’ve already chewed two nails to the nubs, and my fingers sting like hell, yet I’m still biting my fucking nails.

  I changed my vote to guilty. I really did it. When I walked into the jury room, I was so sure David was innocent. That stuff about the cooking school and pulling the knife on the chef affected me. All the deliberations have affected me. But what sucks is that I can’t get my mother’s words about Jody Arias out of my mind. Jody claimed self-defense but, during the sentencing phase, admitted she killed her boyfriend. It turned out the whole self-defense thing was bullshit. I worry that David Sullinger is a bullshitter like Jody, and I can’t let a bullshitter get away with murder.

  I told my mom over and over not to talk to me about the case, damn it. I love her to death, but why can’t she ever listen to me? Shit, my pinky finger is bleeding. I suck on it, the taste of blood both nauseating and comforting.

  Why did the judge order this break? We’ve been waiting half an hour. We’re like prisoners, because even though it’s supposed to be a break, the bailiff made us stay in the jury room. It’s freaking me out. I’m not the only one. Us jurors aren’t talking to each other. Just sitting, milling around, fiddling with our phones, drinking coffee or water, staring off into space. Or biting our nails.

  There’s a knock on the door, and the bailiff walks in. Finally.

  “Line up in numerical order,” he says. “We’re going into the courtroom.”

  The Foreperson says, “But the …” and stops herself.

  We file in. The judge is on the bench, the attorneys are at their tables, and the clerk is at his desk. The court reporter is here, wearing a short dress, which is awesome in this cold weather. No David Sullinger. The Clergyman hasn’t rejoined us.

  The judge gazes at us with a solemn face. The color is out of her cheeks. She stares at us so long without blinking that I actually begin to wonder if she’s eyes-open asleep or worse. Finally, she says, “Members of the jury, I’ve called you in here to inform you that juror number forty-three has been excused. You’ll continue deliberations without him. You will not speculate about the reasons I excused him, and you will not discuss it. You may reach a verdict with seven jurors. As I previously instructed you, your verdict must be unanimous.”

  Shit. The Clergyman is gone. Not that he added much, but still. What did he do wrong? That photo the Foreperson brought in. Was it that photo? Did another juror bust him? Maybe he owned up to it. But he said he knew nothing about Amanda, that it was a coincidence they were in a picture together. Should we have said something to the judge as a group?

  Maybe it’s not the photo. Maybe he’s sick. He was always taking some kind of pill. Whatever.

  Whoa. That makes the vote four to three for acquittal. Jesus, my fingers sting. Like my mom always warns, I’ll probably come down with some bacterial infection from putting my fingers in my mouth. This courthouse is filthy.

  CHRISTINA KELLEHER, CSR

  SUPERIOR COURT FOR THE COUNTY OF SEPULVEDA

  --------------------------------------------------------X

  PEOPLE

  v.

  DAVID BENNETT SULLINGER

  --------------------------------------------------------X

  JURY TRIAL—DAY 21

  Case No. 16-382

  BEFORE: Hon. Natalie Quinn-Gilbert, Superior Court Judge

  APPEARANCES:

  JOHN Y. CRANSTON, ESQ.

  Assistant District Attorney,

  Sepulveda County

  On behalf of the People

  JENNA MARIE BLAYLOCK, ESQ.

  On behalf of the Defendant

  TRANSCRIPT OF PROCEEDINGS

  Reported by Christina Kelleher

  Certified Shorthand Reporter

  Direct examination of Annalise Rauch by Jenna Blaylock, counsel for the Defendant (excerpt):

  Q. You and Amanda Sullinger were friends?

  A. Amanda didn’t have friends, but I was the closest thing. She was like my boss. Well, not literally, we’re both real estate brokers, but she trained me. She handled much more expensive properties. I was someone who Amanda vented to.

  Q. Vented about what?

  A. About the sorry state of the world. About the unfair cut of our commissions that the owners of our agency took. About the obnoxious clients. About David.

  Q. David being David Sullinger, her husband?

  A. Yes.

  Q. What did she say about David?

  A. That he was a loser. A bad father. Messy. Stupid. Not good in bed. Overweight. Among other things.

  Q. Did she use the word “overweight” when describing David?

  A. You want her exact words?

  Q. Please.

  A. She called him a fat pig, a fat slob. Her favorite was “fat sow,” because she could attack his appearance and his manhood at the same time.

  MR. CRANSTON: Move to strike everything starting with the word “because.” Speculation.

  THE COURT: Motion granted. The jury is instructed to ignore everything after the words “fat sow.”

  MR. CRANSTON: Your Honor, the Court’s last comment … Oh, never mind. Withdrawn.

  By Ms. Blaylock:

  Q. But Amanda did call David a fat sow in your presence?

  A. All the time.

  Q. You told us that Amanda would call David stupid. Tell us more.

  A. She hated that he didn’t get a college degree, said he was lucky to have graduated high school, wouldn’t have passed her history class if she … if she hadn’t … sorry for this, if she hadn’t been fucking him. She’d refer to him as “the imbecile” in normal conversation. Even in front of other people at the office, even sometimes in front of clients. I think she lost some sales because she said things like that, and I think she knew it and blamed David for it. She said he couldn’t hold a job. She said he was a bad influence on the kids, was holding them back—particularly their son, Dillon. Things like that.

  Q. What did she tell you about her sex life with David?

  A. She said he was a bad lover, but she used an obscene word instead of bad. She said he couldn’t get it up without Viagra, if then. She said she wasn’t attracted to him, because his fat belly disgusted her. That he had a small dick—sorry, a small penis.

  Q. Did Amanda Sullinger ever tell you that she cheated on David?

  MR. CRANSTON: Objection. That calls for hearsay.

  MS. BLAYLOCK: Offered not for the truth, but for the fact that Amanda would demean David to third parties.

  THE COURT: On that basis, the objection is overruled. Members of the jury, I i
nstruct you to consider the evidence only to show the statement was made and not to show the truth of Amanda having affairs.

  THE WITNESS: Should I answer?

  MS. BLAYLOCK: Please.

  A. Amanda bragged about sleeping with other men. She said she’d tell David about it to make him jealous in the hopes that he’d clean up his act.

  Q. When she said this, what was her demeanor?

  A. Sometimes, like it was nothing. Sometimes, she’d laugh at David for letting her get away with sleeping with other men.

  Q. Ms. Rauch, putting aside what Amanda Sullinger might have told you, do you have any firsthand knowledge that she cheated on David?

  A. Yes.

  Q. Please tell us what that knowledge is.

  A. It’s … I’m sorry, just a second, it’s embarrassing.

  Q. Take your time.

  A. Okay. Okay. About a year before all this happened—I mean Amanda dying—she and I went on a business trip to Denver. A potential client was looking into developing town houses riverside here in Sepulveda County, and Amanda and I hoped we could get hired as the brokers. We had drinks, the client was very handsome, and he invited Amanda and me up to his hotel room. One thing led to another, and we both had sex with him.

  Q. Did Amanda have sexual intercourse with this man?

  A. Yeah, we both did.

  Q. Did you observe anything unusual about Amanda’s behavior during this encounter?