Chapter 19 – Just a Theory
Thursday morning June 5, 2008 – 10:45 AM
Defense Attorney R. J. Gleason advanced with a purpose as he bypassed the podium and marched his way towards the far end of the jury box until he came to a stop at a location which had him placed squarely in Frank Newlan’s line of vision…and it was from this strategic vantage point that he began his understated tirade.
As Gleason spoke, he began pacing back and forth, up and down the length of the jury box while at the same time studying the faces of the sixteen randomly chosen, wide-eyed citizens who sat in the seats directly across from him. He preferred to be as close as possible to the jurors when he made his opening statements, specifically so that he could look into their eyes and get a feel for what he was up against.
However, just like yesterday in the parking garage, Gleason’s face contorted into a bloody red shroud of uncertainty, and at the onset of his dialogue, his voice was no more than a murmur. It was as if he was afflicted with an incurable case of stage fright; but as was also the case yesterday, he rapidly hit his stride as he got warmed up.
Whether Gleason was truly frightened or whether it was all part of some master plan, only he could say for sure, but in any event, he began his sermon by sedately stating; “ladies and gentlemen of the jury I would first like to echo the thoughts of District Attorney Lyons and thank you all for taking this time away from your jobs, and your families, and your busy lives, so that you might serve as jurors. Your willingness to participate in this process is the fabric of what makes our system of justice so unique.”
“I’m not sure how willing we are. We just happened to be the only fools who didn’t come up with a good enough excuse, so stop sucking up to us,” silently demanded Newlan. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help himself from being sarcastic, even though, deep in his heart of hearts, he firmly believed that the attorneys and Judge Gershwin were each equally sincere in their praise of the jurors.
Putting Newlan’s sarcasm aside for just a moment, as Gleason continued on with his harangue, it was evident from his tone that his summations would be delivered in a much calmer manner than DA Lyons’ frenzied approach…and this observation doesn’t even begin to take into account the fact that her rancorous style was, at times, already starting to rub up against the wrong side of the acerbic Newlan.
“Throughout the course of this trial you will become familiar with the John Breslin that I have come to know. You will come to know a family man who toiled at two jobs in an effort to make ends meet. You will come to know a man whose life revolved solely around his three precious children…his eldest son John Jr., now age 11…his daughter Rebecca, age 9…and last but not least, his youngest son Kevin, age 7. You will come to know a well-educated man who graduated with honors from Tafts University. You will come to know a man who has been employed at Tex-Ray Defense Systems for 23 years; a man who worked his way up the corporate ladder of success, securing numerous promotions over the course of his career. You will come to know a man who purchased a comfortable home for his family, and who also looked after his elderly mother.”
After his initial misstep, Gleason had a nice pace going, but all of a sudden Newlan couldn’t care less. He was once again momentarily distracted and floored by the unveiling of another improbable twist; a twist that had John Breslin attending the very same university where he himself had worked for so many years.
“Man, you can’t make this shit up,” moaned Newlan for what he hoped would be the very last time (or at least as far as this troubling jury duty episode of his life was concerned).
Although, in spite of his purported imminent dismissal, Newlan found Gleason’s eloquent speech to be rather touching, and he thought to himself, “too bad I’m gonna be getting my ass kicked off the trial…because I got a gut feeling that this guy might be innocent, and I’d make sure that he got a fair shake. But hey, it’s not my fault that my nephew just so happens to work for the same company as Breslin.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, as the trial proceeds forward, it will become clear to you that the government’s case revolves around two main witnesses. First you will meet Mr. Breslin’s wife, Tracy; a confused woman who had her own share of problems…alcohol abuse, substance abuse, psychological issues, just to name a few of her ills. It will soon become crystal clear to you that Tracy Breslin is a woman who, to this very day, doesn’t really know what she wants from the men in her life,” explained Gleason.
“Was John and Tracy Breslin’s marriage rocky?” asked Gleason rhetorically, and then he responded with an affirmative nod as he added, “perhaps…but don’t most marriages go through rocky periods?”
Gleason’s confidence appeared to be building in leaps and bounds, and he was steadily making up for lost ground like a smoking railway caboose chugging full steam ahead.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the evidence will show that John Breslin was back at home living with his wife and children during the week in-between Christmas and New Years of 2005, and that they in fact had sexual relations on multiple occasions during this period.”
“Does this sound like a husband who was fixated on another man? Does this sound like a man who was planning to murder someone?” Gleason plaintively asked the jurors.
“Next you will meet the government’s star witness, Ms. Nancy O’Brien,” intoned Gleason with sarcasm dripping from his voice like an icicle melting in the morning sun.
“I ask that you to listen closely to this witness…and…well…you’ll see for yourself,” predicted Gleason.
“You will see a frightened single parent who feared for her own freedom. You’ll see an uncooperative witness who was badgered by the police, and even threatened with arrest. The police literally told her that she could go to prison for life. And after the authorities got through with her…then, and only then, will you see a witness who is suddenly inclined to testify…a witness who is suddenly willing to tell everything that she knows…but in exchange for her testimony, Ms. O’Brien was granted immunity, IMMUNITY, just like that, exempt from all criminal responsibility. You will hear from a woman who tells the police her story on one day, and the next day she tells a completely different story, and the next day she adds to her story…and the next day she changes her story, again and again and again over the course of a couple of months. Does this sound like a believable witness?” contended a skeptical Gleason.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the government will then overload you with documents, and a paper trail of records, outlining countless phone calls. Phone call after phone call after phone call, until you are numb from the repetition…but what they won’t be able to tell you is what was said during any of those phone calls…not one,” assured Gleason.
“Testimony will also show that the government obtained a phone tap on Mr. Breslin…and on Mr. Fox…and on Ms. O’Brien…but what the government doesn’t want you to know is that these wiretaps didn’t produce a shred of evidence…not a single incriminating statement,” insisted Gleason in a forceful yet calm tone.
“Ladies and gentlemen we will also hear from investigators and crime scene experts who came up empty in their search for physical evidence linking Mr. Fox to the murder of Fred Miller; no fingerprints…no DNA…no gun…no hair or fibers…no tire tracks… and no positive identification of Mr. Fox…or his car, despite what you’ve heard to the contrary.”
“As a matter of fact, these so-called experts came up with nothing…absolutely nothing.”
“We will also hear about a DNA fragment on the bullet shell that doesn’t match Mr. Miller or the alleged shooter in this case, Sammy Fox; evidence that could very well exculpate Mr. Fox and by extension, Mr. Breslin as well,” reasoned Gleason.
“And sadly, the evidence will show that the victim, Mr. Fred Miller, lived a less than stellar lifestyle, and that he had many enemies who may have wanted to harm him.”
“On top of all this, ladies and gentlemen, th
e evidence will show a pattern of shoddy investigative work, and even worse, the appearance of impropriety,” hinted Gleason, which really got Newlan’s attention.
“Whoa, he’s skiing down a slippery slope with that statement. He better have the goods to back it up. Although, based on my own past experiences I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some shady stuff going on with the police and the detectives.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the only thing the government has is a theory,” explained Gleason and then he paused for effect before adding, “Just a theory.”
“Sure, blame the victim and incompetent police work…typical…but I gotta admit that this guy is good…real good,” thought Newlan who was at times equal parts fascinated and disgusted by both of the attorneys opening statements.
Newlan was struck by Gleason parting words, “a theory…just a theory” and the phrase would stay with him throughout the course of the trial…and for that matter, for the rest of his life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, during my closing statement I will remind you of the oath you took yesterday. I will remind you of an oath in which you swore that you would serve as impartial jurors on this case. I will remind you of an oath in which you swore that the defendant, Mr. Breslin, is assumed to be innocent unless he has been proven to be guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.”
Gleason was now firmly in command of the courtroom, although he had the easily distracted Newlan confused again.
“Oath…what oath…I don’t remember any oath. I must have still been in a state of shock when the oaths were being handed out,” muttered a panicky Newlan. But then, in short order, he conjured up a vague recollection of the oath, and of Judge Gershwin providing the jurors with a set of basic instructions such as just using common sense when examining the evidence.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to once again thank you for giving me your full attention and for the seriousness with which I trust you will approach this trial. I trust that you will review all of the evidence and testimony as thoroughly as you can, and that you will come to the only conclusion possible…and that is a verdict of not guilty of all charges,” concluded a solemn Gleason. He then looked Newlan straight in the eye for a second or two before slowly turning away and trudging back towards the defense table.
Newlan shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the glance from Gleason penetrated right through him, traveling at the speed of light, like the bullet that ripped through Fred Miller’s brain. In his confused state of being, Newlan wasn’t even sure whether the fleeting gander actually happened, or whether it was just a product of his overactive imagination acting up on him again. Nevertheless, he looked disconcertingly towards Judge Gershwin for guidance. He was hoping that she would give Gleason some sort of reprimand, but, much to his chagrin, he would get no assistance from the honorable judge, who regrettably had her eyes fixed down on her desk.
As a matter of fact, during the course of both opening statements, Newlan had gazed up at Judge Gershwin’s desk on a number of occasions, and every time he did, he observed her taking copious notes, which surprised him, but then again he thought to himself, “Well, she did say that she was learning about the case just like we were…or maybe she was just daydreaming and doodling on a pad of paper.”
“Ladies and gentlemen we will now take a half hour break, and when we return, we will proceed directly on to witness testimony from twelve to one, before we break again for lunch,” announced Judge Gershwin, and despite Newlan’s conflicted belief to the contrary, she had indeed been listening intently to the opening statements the entire time.
Judge Gershwin then nodded towards Billy who uttered his secular phrase, “all rise” and Brandon once again made like an usher as he pointed the jurors toward the exit which led to the deliberation room.
Meanwhile, the only thing that Newlan had on his one-track mind was to corner Billy as soon as he made his way out into the corridor so that he could inform him of the unfortunate coincidence regarding his nephew and John Breslin which would cause him to have to forfeit his seat on the jury (or so he thought).
“Good riddance to this whole wretched affair. Let the rest of the jurors figure it out. I never asked for this responsibility,” grumbled Newlan as he left the courtroom for what he assumed would be his final farewell.
However, what Newlan failed to realize is that no one ever asks for the Sword of Damocles…but that doesn’t stop it from dropping down on us…when we least expect it.
From the Eyes of a Juror Page 26