Immediately she was standing in the alley behind the bistro and unlocking her waiting car.
Inside, Mascari forked up an entire crescent, the morsel treated specially by Christine. He paused to respond to the larger man before shoveling it into his gaping mouth.
Then he did the next worst thing possible: he gasped and frantically lifted his wine glass and swallowed down a purple bolus preceded by a toxic crescent of cyanide.
Attempting to stand up out of his booth and flee to the hospital, he instead plunged to the floor, where he writhed in paroxysms similar to a fish out of water. His mouth flapped open and closed, open and closed, and he tore at his throat with his hands until muscle lay bare beneath his snatching fingers and nails. But no matter what, he still could take in no air. Then convulsions took over, thrusting his body to the carved ceiling frescoes of the restaurant and then slamming his back hard against the tile floor. This manner of dying proceeded for another three minutes when, in the last gallant thrust, he fell back to the floor and foam issued down both sides of his mouth, streaking his face in a hue that just did complement the damask rose of the demi-curtain above him now. His eyes remained open.
Two blocks away, Christine dialed the main number of the restaurant on her cell phone.
“Mari, please,” she said.
“Oh my God,” cried the voice on the line. “Is this the emergency truck?”
“No, this is Christine. I won’t be back. Did the gentleman enjoy his meal?”
In the background, she could hear emergency sirens converging on the restaurant. She casually tossed the cell phone out the window and the sirens could now be heard through the clear afternoon air. She brushed the hair from her face, removed the pins from the sides, and allowed her black mane to flutter in the breeze as she raced to the airport.
When the body had been removed from Dista Fiencci’s, the large man, Mascari’s driver, snatched up the note and read: Sugar from your baby girl. Enjoy with me!
Aloft in her Gulfstream and sailing northwest at 575 kph, Christine studied her fingernails.
She was sure of it: the Friday Flannel Jamberry had sealed the deal.
46
In selecting the criminal jury for the murder trial on the first day, Thaddeus and Shep Aberdeen were focused on placing as many healthcare workers on the panel as possible. Judge Herbert Hoover led things off by asking questions by himself for the first three hours. These were demographic questions: name, age, address, age, marital status, employment, children, and so forth, and really accomplished very little that the Clerk’s jury list handout hadn’t already done. Finally, Judge Hoover ran out of questions and took a late morning recess, following which he turned the panel over to the lawyers for questions.
Thaddeus and Shep found themselves looking at a nurse, a male CNA, a clinical psychologist, and a medical claims examiner who worked in Phoenix and commuted every day. It wasn’t what they wanted, but it was what they were given.
When court reconvened, District Attorney Sanders sauntered up to the lectern. He smiled at the jury and smiled at the judge. He ignored the defendant and his lawyers, indicating that the jury should ignore them by his example.
He then began pursuing the rabbit down the hole.
“Ms. Robin, you indicated earlier that you are a supervisor with Dulles Corporation?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Do you participate in the hiring process?”
“Yes, I have final authority on new hires.”
“Can you describe the procedure for the jury?”
“Well, resumes are solicited with applications. Rejections are made based on qualifications and experience. Interviews are requested based on qualifications and experience. I then conduct a second interview, if the first team likes what they’ve seen and heard. Following my interview, I meet with the unit supervisor and go over three names. He or she then indicates to me his or her preference. I then make the hire.”
“Do you always follow the supervisor’s requested hire?”
“No, I have the right to hire as I see fit.”
“How long does the entire process take?”
“Four to six weeks.”
“Wow. That’s quite a process.”
“It’s an important job.”
“Yes, and it’s similar to what we’re trying to do here. We’re trying to hire or select a jury that can appropriately decide this case. Only we don’t get weeks like your company does. You understand that this case is just as important to the people of the State of Arizona as your hiring decisions are to you? Can you appreciate how difficult our job is? That’s why we need your help. That’s why it’s so important for each and every one of you to actively participate in this process. Can you all do this? Can you team up with the people of the State of Arizona?”
He looked from face to face, presumably giving everyone a chance to address their ability to team up with the state in the process, as he had asked.
Thaddeus and Shep weren’t fooled. It was an old prosecutor’s trick and it was used to get buy-in, the line of questioning just presented. It was done to make the jury feel it had joined with the prosecutor in doing important work for the State of Arizona. The State of Arizona also happened to be the complaining party, as the case was entitled the State of Arizona, Plaintiff vs. Emerick Sewell, Defendant. How neat and tidy it would be if all the jurors jumped on that team. It was up to the defense attorneys to make sure that didn’t happen.
“Your Honor,” said Shep slowly, while the moment hung in the air, “it would seem to me that the District Attorney is asking the jury to join his team. We would object to this maneuver, based on the requirements of due process that the defendant be tried by an unbiased jury. A jury that’s sworn to function on the District Attorney’s team hardly seems what the framers of the Constitution had in mind.”
“Yes,” said Judge Hoover to Sanders, “Mr. Sanders, I was okay with the question you were posing up until you asked the jury to join your team. The objection is sustained; the question is stricken. Please move along in your questioning now.”
Without a flinch or a facial expression, Sanders asked the jury generally, “The judge makes a good point. Everyone knows that the defendant has a right to a fair trial. Do you understand that the people of the state of Arizona also have the right to a fair trial?”
No one blinked. All were in agreement the jury should be fair to the state as well as the defendant.
So Sanders continued, “It’s my burden to prove the defendant guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, a burden I willingly accept. Mrs. Martinez, let’s suppose I bring you two boxes of evidence and three witnesses. You look at all of the evidence; you listen carefully to the witnesses. You don’t believe any of it. What’s your verdict?
“Not guilty, I think.”
“Okay. Now let’s suppose I bring you a hundred boxes of evidence and parade in a thousand witnesses.”
“Oh, heavens!”
“Relax, I promise that’s not going to happen. We’ll get out of here during our lifetimes. But let’s suppose we had all the time in the world and I spent one year presenting you with truckloads of materials. Let’s say you didn’t believe any of it. What would your verdict be?”
“Not guilty. And mad at you for keeping me a year.”
“Understood. Let’s change things a bit. Let’s suppose I bring in only one witness. You listen carefully to that witness. You know that the witness is telling the truth. You believe the witness beyond a reasonable doubt. What would your verdict be?”
“Guilty.”
“All right. Does everyone here agree that just one witness could possibly be enough to convict Dr. Sewell of the crime he’s charged with?”
Again, waiting, giving the jury a chance to consider the point.
No hands were raised, so the prosecutor continued for another ninety minutes with this line of questioning. Then they broke for lunch, scattered to their favorite haunts around the courthouse, and reconvened at two o’c
lock, having run past noon for the first session.
When everyone had returned, Dr. Sewell, sitting between Thaddeus and Shep, uncomfortably shuffled his feet.
“No physicians?” Sewell said in a hushed voice. “I thought I would get a jury of my peers.” His affect was almost depressed, Thaddeus observed. The guy was really frightened by now.
“That’s the language we use,” Shep answered. “The reality is different, however. As you can see.”
“Well, there should be at least one doctor on the jury. Can’t we make a motion or something?”
“It would be futile to even try. No, we get what the Clerk of the Court sends us from the voters’ roll. The names are drawn all over the county randomly. Your chance of scoring a physician reflects the same ratio of physicians to civilians in the general population of the community. Not great odds at all.”
“Well let’s get rid of the psychologist. Can we do that?”
Thaddeus replied, “What’s your thinking on that? Why get rid of someone whose main area of study is consciousness?”
Dr. Sewell leaned back and closed his eyes. “Psychologists are trained in classical psychological methods and theory. The notion that consciousness exists independent of the brain would be laughable to them.”
Shep said, “Plus she would tend to hold great sway with the jury because of her credentials.”
“Okay, I’m following you, Doc,” Thaddeus said and put a check beside her name on his notepad. “We’ll strike her.”
When court resumed, it was Shep’s turn to address the jurors. He focused right on the psychologist in an attempt to find and reveal bias to the judge, so that the defense could get her dismissed for cause rather than having to use a peremptory strike on her. Peremptory challenges were limited in number and you wanted to use one of them only where absolutely necessary.
“Dr. Ramziki, you practice psychology here in Flagstaff?”
The young woman brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead. “I do. I’m in the building next the medical center.”
“Your practice would be clinical psychology?”
She smiled and folded her hands in her lap. “Yes. Adolescents, mainly.”
“Meaning teens?”
“Primarily.”
“This case will involve a good bit of testimony about human consciousness. Would you already hold strong opinions in this area?”
“I would hold strong opinions. Would I be able to set those aside in favor of keeping an open mind? Yes, I could keep an open mind. I’m a scientist, sir. I’m always open to new learning.”
She had backed him off with that answer. Bias would be difficult to show after she had just cut him off at the knees, evidently aware of what it was he was going after. Shep stepped to his table and whispered to Thaddeus, “Damned if she doesn’t want to serve on our jury.”
“Do you trust her?” Thaddeus whispered back. “I guess that’s the real issue here.”
Shep looked at Dr. Sewell. “Doc? You getting any kind of read on her?”
Dr. Sewell nodded slowly. “I’m probably the wrong one to ask, Shep. I tend to take people at their word.”
Shep returned to the lectern.
“Dr. Ramziki, if the testimony presented in court was so very contrary to your training and your own beliefs, would you be inclined to reject it in favor of your own training and thinking and experience?”
“That’s hard to say. But in all honesty, maybe so. I’ve been a practicing psychologist for nearly twenty years, sir. My opinions are pretty well formed by now.”
“Such that, for example, if a physician testified that consciousness survives brain death? Would that be rejected out of hand by you?”
“Objection!” Sanders said smoothly so as not to tip his hand. “Seeks to pre-qualify the juror.”
Shep coolly responded. “Your Honor, jury examination serves the dual purpose of enabling the court to select an impartial jury and assisting counsel in exercising peremptory challenges. MuMin v Virginia, 500 U.S. 415, 431 (1991). Moreover, where an adversary wishes to exclude a juror because of bias, it is the adversary seeking exclusion who must demonstrate, through questioning, that the potential juror lacks impartiality. Quoting Wainwright v. Witt, 469 U.S. at 423. Accordingly, I should be given considerable leeway in these types of questions.”
But the judge wasn’t buying it.
Judge Hoover looked from the juror back to Shep. “Sustained. Move along, Mr. Aberdeen, please.”
“Please allow me to restate the question so that our prosecutor doesn’t try to quiet you.”
“Objection. Improper commentary.”
“Mr. Aberdeen,” said the judge.
“Moving along, Your Honor, yes. Dr. Ramziki, if testimony were presented in court that varied greatly from your own professional beliefs and if that testimony were supported by current concepts of, let’s say, quantum physics, is there anything about that area of medicine that you would find off-putting to the degree that you would reject it in favor of your own beliefs?”
“I think I know where you’re going with this, sir,” the psychologist said. “That particular area is developing and new theories are propounded almost every week. My inclination is to keep an open mind—no pun intended—where I don’t have the training and expertise to disagree. What I’m saying is, this area of thought is so new I really don’t have any opinions about it. I’m sure I could keep an open mind.”
“Very well,” said Shep. He knew that it wouldn’t get any better than that. She had just bought herself a first class ticket on the jury. Shep had been unable to dismiss her based on bias, but maybe something better had developed: he had found an expert in the field of human psychology who had just committed to keeping an open mind about the testimony that Shep knew the defense doctors were going to present. In the end, he knew, you really couldn’t hope for much more than that. He decided to back off and suggest to Thaddeus and Dr. Sewell that they accept the psychologist on the jury.
He then decided to educate the jury just a bit concerning the defense’s most difficult area of testimony. He could use any juror for this: what the juror said would be immaterial; it would be the questions asked by Shep that actually mattered. He glanced down his list of witnesses and settled on Mona Harwick, a college student who had said she was studying computer programming. He saw a potential opening there.
“Miss Harwick—it is Miss?”
The student smiled nervously. “It is.”
“You’re a student of computer programming?”
“Yes, sir. I’m getting my associates in Java programming.”
“So you have a background in the theory of artificial intelligence, I’m thinking. Would I be wrong?”
“No, sir, you wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve had two semesters of AI theory. I know a little bit about it.”
“Are you one of those computer scientists who believes the human mind will eventually be replicated by computers?”
The student put her hand to her chin and considered her reply. Then, “Can I just say that my teachers have taught me that binary systems, ones and ohs, can produce systems of artificial intelligence. Can computers eventually equal the human brain? I don’t think anyone knows.”
“Do you have an opinion?”
“Yes, I think computers will eventually be able to do the thinking of humans.”
“Such that computers can maintain a conscious state just like people can?”
She sat back in her chair. “Well, it depends on what you mean by a conscious state.”
“Consciousness, according to the defendant’s doctors, is a state of awareness. Maybe this best describes what is meant. Computers can now defeat any human alive at the game of chess. However, computers don’t know what chess is. Humans know. But computers don’t. This is an example of consciousness as our case will present it. Do you have any preconceived notions about this kind of thing?”
“Yes. I believe that computers will someday know what chess is. And what flowers ar
e. And what death means.”
Shep was surprised at the last part of her answer.
“Will the computers you have in mind fear death like humans fear death? In other words, will they know the emotion of fear?”
“Now that, I wouldn’t know.”
“But wouldn’t you agree that feelings are one aspect of consciousness? That feelings are part of what make us human and the lack of feelings is what makes computers machines?”
“You’ve got me there. I don’t know.”
Shep smiled his warmest smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to ‘get you.’ I’m just trying to determine how you actually think about human consciousness and what bias, if any, you might have.”
“Put it this way. If your doctors tell me that computers will never be able to do everything the human mind can do, I will have to disagree. But the area of consciousness as you describe it—well, that’s something I would have to be open-minded about. We haven’t studied that in school at all.”
“I appreciate your candor, Miss Harwick. I truly do.”
47
Just before lunch, the jury was sworn in and sent away for an early lunch. Thaddeus watched them file out and he knew they would be discussing their own demographics over sandwiches and drinks, but that the focus of their conversations would edge more and more toward the evidence and testimony in the case as the days went by.
After the noon recess, Judge Hoover went straight ahead with testimony, telling District Attorney Sanders to call his first witness.
Sanders wanted to give the jury the twenty-thousand-foot view of the case, so he called Eleanor M. Hemenway, City of Flagstaff detective. Hemenway was dressed in tight-fitting black slacks with black belt and gray houndstooth sport coat with a plain black tie. As she moved in front of the lawyers’ tables, making her way to the witness stand, the jury was treated to a view of the heavy gold detective’s shield on her belt on her left hip and her Glock 17 on the other hip. She walked confidently and cast an all-business aura. There was no nonsense about her, no gratuitous smiles or nods at the jury—none of the usual body and facial language so many witnesses use to ingratiate themselves to the jury. She wasn’t standoffish; she was simply officious, there to do a job.
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