Today my client is Carmen Herndez, a twenty-three-year-old Puerto Rican immigrant accused of breaking into a jewelry store. There wasn't exactly a pitched battle in the legal community to land Carmen as a client. I got the assignment because his mother is Sofý, who owns a fruit stand next door to my office. What I know about Sofý she works sixteen hours a day, has a smile on her face every morning, and gets summer fruit before anyone else. I also know she asked for my help, and money wasn't an issue because she doesn't have any. What I don't know is whether her son is a crook. But that's what we're here to determine.
This is the third and last day of the trial. The Assistant DA, Norman Trell, has done his usual competent job of presenting his competent case to this competent jury, and soon they will be sent in to competently deliberate and find Carmen guilty. The only thing standing in the way of all this competence is my summation.
I take a quick glance at the large door in the back of the room, though I know it won't be opening for three minutes. I then take another look at Carmen, wearing a suit as if it is the first time in his life he has ever worn one. It probably is; that suit was hanging in my closet until the trial started. Carmen is six foot four and I'm five foot eleven; he looks like he spent the last six hours in a dryer.
I stand and begin my summation, walking toward the jury, though I know I'm about to be interrupted. Their faces are bored, their eyes glazed, twelve poor slobs who couldn't get a doctor's excuse or a valid note from their boss to get them off jury duty. To these concerned citizens, the only positive aspect to this upcoming speech is that it is the last one they will have to hear.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you've had to listen to a lot of talking these past few days, and I'm smart enough to know not to chew your ears off much longer.”
Two of the jurors smile, which shows how little humor they've been exposed to lately. The other ten think I'm bullshitting them.
“There are only two things for me to talk about, and then I'll shut up. The first is circumstantial evidence. Carmen Herndez stands accused on this kind of evidence. No one saw him break into that store. No one saw him take any jewels. No one saw him leave the store. Instead we have guesswork, and seem-to-be's, and probably's. The prosecutor, Mr. Trell, says, ‘Gee, with these circumstances, it sure seems to me that Mr. Herndez did it.’ ”
I look over at Trell, but he does not return the stare. He neither likes nor trusts defense lawyers, and as far as he's concerned, I'm the worst of the lot. I extend the stare, mainly because it will be fifteen seconds until the door opens.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, that's not good enough.” Another pause for dramatic effect, as I wait impatiently. Open, door.
And open it does. Laurie Collins enters from the back. I turn, but then again so does everyone else. When Laurie Collins enters a room, you turn to see her. It's as simple as that. She is a beautiful, sexy woman, and I would say this even if I weren't sleeping with her. I would say it even if she weren't able to kick the shit out of me.
Laurie, as instructed, is dressed in a conservative pants suit. She is five foot ten, with blond hair and a perfectly proportioned body. That figure comes across despite the otherwise nonrevealing attire, but then again Laurie's body would look great if she were wearing a Winnebago.
Laurie seems excited about something, and she makes a motion to get my attention, a singularly unnecessary act. I nod and turn to Judge Kasten.
“Your Honor, if I could have a moment.”
Moments aren't something Judge Kasten is inclined to dispense, and he stares at me with an intensity designed to make me withdraw the request. When I don't do so, he finally says, “What is the problem, Mr. Carpenter?”
“I'm not really sure, Your Honor, but Ms. Collins certainly would not be interrupting were this not important.”
If there is such a thing as a stern sigh, Kasten pulls it off. “Make it brief.”
I walk over to Laurie, whose facial expression still shows excitement. Her words do not, though she speaks softly enough that I'm the only one able to hear them.
“Hi, Andy,” she says. “What's new in the legal world?”
Now, you may not think this is big news, but I look stunned, as if she had dropped a bombshell.
“Not a hell of a lot,” I say. “Still hot out there?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, close to eighty, although they're predicting a thunderstorm. By the way, you do realize your father is going to be upset by this, don't you?”
My father is not only the retired State District Attorney, he is also a legend in the legal profession. As the next few minutes are about to demonstrate, the legend gene obviously skipped a generation.
“You think I'm afraid of my father?” I ask her, incredulous at the possibility.
“Petrified,” she says.
“Then I'll tell him this was your idea.”
I make a triumphant fist and look skyward, as if thanking God for this good fortune. I may be laying it on a little thick, but these aren't the brightest jurors in the world.
Barely able to contain my excitement, I turn and walk to Carmen at the defense table. Since he can only speak about four words of English, I don't bother making sense when I whisper in his ear.
“All the while I'd be thinkin', I could be another Lincoln, if I only had a brain.”
I break out in a big grin and hug him. He figures something good must have happened, so he breaks out in just as big a grin and hugs me back. We are one happy lawyer-client team. Among the people who aren't quite as happy is Judge Kasten.
“Perhaps you would like to enlighten us as to what is going on, Mr. Carpenter?”
Smile painted on my face, I turn and walk toward the bench. “Sorry, Your Honor, but I thought my client should be the first to hear the good news.”
“And just what good news is that?” he asks.
“Well, I'm not sure why we had to learn about it this way …” I take the smile off long enough to stare a silent reprimand at Prosecutor Trell. “… but I've just heard a report that another man has confessed to the crime my client is being tried for. The media has the story. He is under arrest and is being held at this very moment.”
There is an uproar in the courtroom, or at least as much uproar as this scraggly group can manage. My eyes are on the jury, now fully awake and talking excitedly among themselves. “Can this be true?” they're thinking. “Does this mean we can go home?”
Carmen shakes hands and hugs everyone in sight; for a moment I think he's going to accidentally strangle the bailiff. My eyes are on the prosecution table, where one of Trell's assistants gets up and rushes out of the room, already drawing his cell phone out of his pocket as he goes. I watch him until I turn to the sound of an increasingly annoying noise. It's Kasten's gavel, and he's pounding it as hard as he can.
Eventually, order is restored, if for no other reason than to quiet that stupid gavel. Kasten turns to Trell, who is still looking befuddled.
“Mr. Trell, what is your information on this?”
Trell doesn't know what attitude to take, since he doesn't know if it's true. He plays it down the middle. “I'm having it checked right now, Your Honor.” He turns toward the doors in the back of the court as if to show Kasten where the answer will come from.
On cue, the assistant opens those doors and comes back in the room, holstering his cell phone as he does. He quickly goes to Trell and whispers in his ear. The jig, I am aware, is about to be up.
Trell nods vigorously, then turns back to Kasten. I think he so relishes what he's about to say that he's actually salivating. He uses his deepest voice. “Your Honor, I am told there is no truth whatsoever to this report.” Roosevelt spoke with less drama when he announced the attack on Pearl Harbor.
No sooner does Trell finish speaking than Kasten's head, as well as every other head in the courtroom, swivels toward me.
I shrug, as if I'm an innocent bystander. “I'm as surprised as you, Judge. The media in this town is getting out of hand.”
He, of course, is not buying it. “This is bizarre behavior even by your standards.”
Obviously he doesn't know my standards, but now is not the time to educate him. I shrug so hard my shoulders hurt. “Your Honor, surely you don't think-”
He interrupts me, which is just as well, since I wasn't quite sure how to finish the sentence. “Finish your summation, and then I'll want to see both counsel in chambers. The jury will disregard this entire incident.”
I walk toward the jury, shaking my head in amazement at this turn of events. Let's see if they disregard this …
“The second thing I wanted to talk to you about is reasonable doubt. If any of you believed, even for a few moments, that someone else had confessed to the crime my client stands charged with, then you must have a reasonable doubt as to his guilt.”
A cannon goes off in Trell's chair, sending him soaring to his feet. “Objection! Objection!”
He yells so loud that I have to yell over him to the jury, while I'm pointing to Carmen. “You cannot be absolutely positive about this man's guilt and at the same time be ready to believe that someone else did it!”