Dead Peasants

by Larry D. Thompson

  Jack nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem. This is not a long one. We might even finish before the week is out.”

  J.D. poured his double helping of Cheerios heavy on the sugar. “Which of those three new suits you bought me last week should I wear?”

  “Your call. They’re all conservative. Don’t carry a cane, though. One Bryant with a cane is enough. Let’s plan to leave here at seven-thirty. I always like to get to the courtroom early. Besides, on the first day, I want to grab the counsel table closest to the jury.”

  J.D. looked up from his cereal. “Any particular reason?”

  “Not really. It’s just another one of those quirks of trial lawyers. We’d be in the middle of the jury box if we could. I’m going to wake Colby. Lucille leaves in an hour and a half.”

  76

  Jack’s team parked in the courthouse parking lot about ten minutes before eight. J.D. put three boxes on a dolly and Jack carried his briefcase and his Bat Masterson cane.

  At the light Jack remembered his encounter with the guy who threatened his life. Too bad that son of a bitch isn’t around now. I’d let him go one on one with J.D., he thought. They mounted the steps. The only problem with being in the old courthouse was that J.D. had to haul each box to the top, one at a time, and then retrieve the dolly. When they entered the building, only one deputy was on the metal detector. Jack started to empty his pockets until the guard stopped him.

  “Hell, Jack. That won’t be necessary. I know you and no one else is around to complain. This your son?”

  “Yep, that’s J.D.”

  “Why’s he all dressed up in a monkey suit like you. We need him out on the field.”

  “I pulled a hamstring a couple of weeks ago,” J.D. replied. “I’m out until week after next. Meantime, I’m helping my dad in a trial.”

  “And if this lovely lady is with you, she can just walk around the metal detector, too.”

  “I’m Colby Stripling. I’m part of the trial team.” Colby said.

  They took the elevator to the second floor. When it opened, they saw June sitting alone on one of the benches outside the courtroom, wearing the same black dress that she had worn to bury her Willie. She rose as they approached. Colby and Jack hugged her. Jack introduced J.D. The decision to have her attend trial alone was another strategic one. He considered having Willie, Jr. or her daughters join her and then thought better of it. He wanted the lone widow to be up against a big corporation. Jack believed there were multiple ways to send a message, and he used them all.

  They entered the courtroom and found a new bailiff seated at the desk inside the rail to the right side of the bench. While J.D. unloaded boxes and placed them along the inside rail, Jack went to the bailiff to introduce himself. The bailiff was medium height, wore glasses and had a full head of gray hair. Jack guessed he had been on the street for twenty or so years and had enough seniority to take this job to fill out his thirty years until retirement

  “Morning, Bailiff, I’m Jack Bryant.”

  The bailiff rose and extended his hand. “Gregg Waddill. Pleased to meet you. The regular bailiff is on vacation this week. I’ll be taking his place. This your associate?”

  Jack turned to J.D. “Step over here. Actually, this is my son, J.D. He goes to TCU but is taking a short leave of absence to act as my paralegal this week. J.D. this is Deputy Gregg Waddill.”

  “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  “Deputy, unless the judge dictates a preference, we’ll take the counsel table closest to the jury box.”

  “It’s first come, first served in here. That one is yours. I see you have another assistant in the audience. It’ll be a while, but when we get the jury in here, I’ll ask that she join you at counsel table for jury selection.”

  That prompted Colby to come through the gate and shake the bailiff’s hand. .Fifteen minutes later Ace Leyton entered the courtroom, trailed by Dwayne Allison and what appeared to be a young associate. Ace was in that small group of lawyers that considered that he had entered a war zone when he stepped through the courtroom door for trial. He refused to look at Jack or his team or even acknowledge their presence. He would address Jack only if specifically instructed by the judge. Early in his career some older lawyer must have instilled in him the idea that such tactics would intimidate the other side. All it brought from Jack was a smile.

  Dwayne Allison was not quite sure what to do with himself. He watched his lawyer unloading his briefcase, then glanced around the courtroom, finally settling on Colby. Getting no instruction from Leyton, he walked up to the rail and stuck out his hand. “How are you, Colby? Sorry about your house and all of your current problems. I want only the best for you.”

  “I’m fine, Mr. Allison. The road’s been a little bumpy lately, but it’ll be okay.”

  She turned to take a seat at Jack’s counsel table as the judge entered from his chambers.

  “Good morning, gentlemen and ladies. We’re here to try the case of June Davis v. Allison Southwest. Announcements, please.”

  “Jack Bryant here for the plaintiff. We’re ready.”

  “Phillip Leyton here for the defendant. We’re ready, too, Judge.”

  “Now, would you be so kind as to introduce your clients and any members of your staff who will be present during trial.”

  Jack rose. “Judge, this is June Davis.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Davis.”

  “Also, Judge, my son, J.D. Bryant, is a paralegal in my office and will be with me at counsel table. This is Colby Stripling. Other than voir dire, she’ll be in the audience.”

  “Mr. Leyton?”

  “Judge, this is Dwayne Allison. I believe you and he have been on some rodeo committees together.”

  “That we have. Welcome, Dwayne. From this point forward, I’ll be calling you Mr. Allison.”

  “Understood, Judge,” Allison replied.

  “Judge, this is my associate, Ryan Fairchild. This will be his first trial.”

  “Listen and observe well, Mr. Fairchild. These are two excellent lawyers.”

  McDowell certainly got up on the right side of the bed this morning, Jack thought. Maybe Hampton’s stories did some good.

  Leyton had just taken his seat when something occurred to him. “Judge, there’s one matter that I’m not sure how to handle and seek the court’s advice. Mr. Bryant’s son is his so-called paralegal. I know he’s on the Horned Frog football team and is being touted for All America. Looks to me like his son ought to be out practicing with the team for the opening game this weekend. It appears that Mr. Bryant is trying to gain an unfair advantage, having his son sit beside him through the trial.”

  McDowell pondered for a moment, then turned to Jack, obviously buying into the spin Leyton was putting on the issue. J.D. squirmed in his seat, not sure what all of this meant.

  “How about it, Mr. Bryant. Why’s your son here?”

  Jack pushed to his feet with his usual courtroom demeanor, total, calm control. In fact, the only reason that a judge or jury would ever see Jack blow his stack is if he saw some tactical advantage in doing so. “Not an issue, Judge. J.D. spent the summer, working with me as a paralegal. As you may have seen in the paper, he pulled a hamstring and is out until at least the second game of the season. Unlike Mr. Leyton’s national firm, I’m a one man shop. J.D. is thinking about going to law school and since he can’t practice for a while, I need him here with me.”

  McDowell reluctantly nodded his understanding.

  “Then, that brings up another issue, Judge,” Leyton said. “What do we tell the jury about J.D.? We can say nothing, but some of them are going to recognize him and wonder what he’s doing here. Or we can have you or Mr. Bryant say something about why he is here. Frankly, I don’t like either solution.”

  “Judge, I don’t really care. J.D. is going to be here. We’ll accept whatever the court decides.”

  McDowell drummed the fingers of his right hand on his bench as he thought. “Okay, this is not a b
ig deal. I’ll introduce him to the jury myself and make it brief, then move on. Okay with everyone?”

  Both lawyers nodded their approval.

  The judge looked around the courtroom, and turned to the bailiff. “We don’t have a reporter. Would you buzz her, please? We need to be on the record.”

  Two minutes later a large, fiftyish woman with purple hair marched into the courtroom like it was a grave inconvenience and took a seat at her machine. “Can I have a card from any lawyer who will be speaking in this trial?”

  Jack and Leyton complied with her request.

  “Now, my rules are that everybody keep their voices up so I can hear them, and no one will be talking over anyone else. If that occurs, I’m just going to throw up my hands like this.” She lifted her hands like she was a referee signaling a touchdown. “That means I’m not getting a good record and nobody wants that. Right, Judge?”

  McDowell shook his head at his court reporter. “She’s right. This is Ms. Cartwright. She’s been in this courthouse for thirty years. What she says, goes. Now, what pre-trial matters do we have?”

  “None from me, Judge,” Jack said. “I know the rules and expect to follow them.”

  “Mr. Leyton?”

  “Judge, just a couple. I don’t want the life insurance in this case being called a dead peasant policy. That’s pejorative and prejudicial to my client.”

  “Agreed, Mr. Leyton. Mr. Bryant, you will refer to the life insurance policy as the policy or the life policy, nothing more.”

  Jack nodded his understanding.

  While they were talking, Hartley Hampton had slipped in the hallway door and took a seat on the back row. He was already taking notes.

  “Then, Judge, you’ve already ruled that any evidence of other life insurance on other employees was not discoverable. We want to extend that to any mention of them in the trial of this case.”

  “That will also be sustained, Mr. Leyton.” McDowell looked to the back of the courtroom at Hampton. “I see that a member of the media is already here. I don’t want either of you or your clients talking to the media during the trial of this case. There’s already been an article written by Mr. Hampton about the start of this trial. I want this case tried in the courtroom, not in the media. Understood?”

  Jack jumped to his feet. “No sir. It’s not understood. I expect to abide by the disciplinary rules when it comes to talking to the media, but unless you’re going to enter a gag order, I don’t agree with you. My client and I are entitled to talk to the media and respond to their questions. What you are suggesting is infringing on our First Amendment rights.”

  Part of the speech was to make his point with the judge and part was to give something to Hampton to put in the paper if the judge maintained his position.

  Leyton rose to his feet. “I agree with you, Judge, and have no reason to be talking to the press.”

  The judge looked at each lawyer and out to where Hampton sat before speaking. “If both counsel don’t agree, then I’ll withdraw my previous comments. But, listen good, Mr. Bryant, you stray beyond what the disciplinary rules permit and I’ll personally report you to the grievance committee after the trial. Understood?”

  Jack shrugged his shoulders and sat down.

  McDowell glared at him for not responding. “Okay, I’ve ordered a panel of forty-eight.” He looked at his watch. “They should be here in about an hour.” McDowell pushed out of his chair as the bailiff said, “All rise.”

  77

  Thirty minutes before the jury arrived the clerk handed copies of the jury cards to each side. The jury cards provided some basic information: Name, age, address, occupation, race, sex, marital status, religion, number of children, length of residence in Tarrant County, prior jury service, involvement in other lawsuits.

  Jack made sure that J.D. and Colby had a highlighter and directed them to mark anything they considered pertinent about a prospective juror. When the jury panel filed in, Jack studied each of them intently as they walked down the middle aisle. He was looking at how they dressed, whether they carried the morning paper or a book to read, whether they had any physical deformity, anything that might give him one additional clue as to what was going on in their minds. He was pleased to see that there were a several African Americans in the panel. Of course, he wanted them on the jury. Once they were seated, the bailiff advised the judge.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” McDowell said. “Thank you for being here this morning. Our judicial system wouldn’t work without public-spirited folks like yourselves. This is the case of June Davis v. Allison Southwest. It’s a case about the proceeds from an insurance policy. Mr. Bryant, you may proceed.”

  Jack started to get up, but was interrupted by the judge. “I almost forgot. Mr. Jack Bryant represents Ms. Davis. His son, J.D. Bryant, is his paralegal. Some of you may recognize Mr. J.D. Bryant because he plays football for TCU.”

  Most of the men and several of the women looked at J.D. and nodded their heads.

  “He’s got a minor hamstring injury and will miss this week’s game, but should be back for the second game of the season. That’s all you need to know about him. Proceed, Mr. Bryant.”

  Jack got to his feet, cane in hand and stood before the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, I represent June Davis. She’s a widow. Her husband died in an accident while he was out fishing near his house up in Denton. After Ms. Davis buried her husband, she received a letter from the Post Office, enclosing a check made out to Allison Southwest for $400,000. We intend to prove that money rightfully should have been hers and have filed this lawsuit to recover that amount along with treble damages, punitive damages and attorneys fees. There’s more, but I’m only allowed to give you a short summary at this time.

  “The judge has already introduced J.D. Now let me ask who knows or has heard of Dwayne Allison, the owner of Allison Southwest?”

  Thirty hands were raised.

  “Among you folks who raised your hands, how many of you feel that your knowledge of Mr. Allison will cause you to start off this case leaning toward his side of the case or putting more weight on what he has to say?”

  Several hands were raised.

  Jack looked at his jury list. “Juror number 34, Mr. Brown, you have those kinds of feelings?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m a Shriner, and Mr. Allison was Potentate of our temple a few years back. He’s a fine man.”

  Allison beamed and Leyton noted the comment. Jack planned to challenge him for cause.

  “Now, is there anyone here whose employer has taken out a life insurance policy on your life without your knowledge?”

  Juror number 4 on the front row replied, “How would we know if our employer didn’t tell us?”

  Jack grinned a little sheepishly, knowing he had made his point. “Actually, you wouldn’t unless, maybe after you left the employment, your employer offered you the opportunity to continue the policy, or maybe the information leaked out by mistake.”

  The jurors looked confused and wondered where this was all leading. Jack knew that he could go no further, but wanted to plant just a small seed in their minds about the issue to come.

  Jack inquired about jurors who had worked for car dealers, those who had been parties to lawsuits, those who had purchased a car from an Allison dealership, those who had life insurance, and a new category of questions that came with the recession, those who were out of work. After an hour and a half the judge told him his time was up. He thanked the jury panel for their time and sat down.

  Leyton rose to take his place. He explained that Allison Southwest had taken out a life insurance policy on Mr. Davis early in his employment and had paid all the premiums on it. Before he could get beyond that, Juror number 16, a black man, asked, “What did Mr. Davis do?”

  When Leyton replied he was a porter and tried to move on to his next question, the juror interrupted. “Don’t make any sense for him to take out a life insurance policy on a porter. Did he take out these policies on his oth
er employees, too?”

  Leyton looked at Judge McDowell. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we’re here to decide issues on this one insurance policy, not others. Please move on, Mr. Leyton.”

  Several of the jurors shook their heads as though they disagreed with the judge. Jack suppressed a grin and noted their numbers.

  Leyton elicited favorable comments about Dwayne Allison from many of the jurors. He accomplished his goal of letting the jury panel know that Allison was a public-minded citizen and a civic benefactor. His last question dealt with prospective jurors who had a problem with a car dealer. About half the jury panel raised their hands. He had to take the time to discuss each of their problems to decide whether to attempt to strike them or take a calculated risk to leave them on the jury. Then his time was up.

  The judge excused the jury and each lawyer made challenges for cause. The judge’s rulings reduced the panel to thirty-one, and he excused the lawyers to make their remaining six strikes. Jack asked to use the jury room and led his team and June to it. They had twenty minutes. Jack had tried to get all of the jurors who had a high opinion of Allison off the jury with challenges for cause, but he had not succeeded.

  “We’re going to have to use most of our preemptory strikes to get rid of the rest of them. I hadn’t counted on the number of people in this town who knew Allison.”

  “I think I told you to expect that some time back,” Colby said. “His public persona is a lot different from the Dwayne Allison we have come to know.”

  Jack eliminated six more jurors and surveyed the rest of the list, concluding that the remaining jurors would be okay, maybe not great, but okay. When they returned to the courtroom, Jack was surprised to find that Leyton had already made his strikes, handed his list to the clerk and was seated at the counsel table, quietly talking to Allison and his associate. It only took another five minutes for Jack to find out the reason why. When the jury panel was called back in, the clerk called out the names and numbers of the final jurors.

  As they took their seats in the jury box, Jack did a slow burn. That son of a bitch, he said to himself. He used five of his six strikes to eliminate African Americans. Who the hell does he think he’s dealing with?