Post by Mephisto927 on Oct 16, 2014 17:52:14 GMT -5
The 12
It seemed like easy money. The guy was clearly guilty. Another jury had already convicted him. This was just a civil trial, just about money. All they had to do was show up, listen to the attorneys and find him guilty. Even the lawyers seemed like they were from central casting.
The plaintiff’s attorney; “Slick Rick” was well spoken, well dressed, smooth, a typical “shark” He was well organized, had his facts readily at hand, a model of efficiency. He spoke clearly and was to the point. His client cried at the right times and looked appropriately sad. Pain and suffering dripped off her, almost too well.
She was the youngest daughter of the woman the defendant was accused of killing. He had also “allegedly” killed her older sister. They had all lived together at one time and at the time of their deaths all had lived in neighboring houses on the same plot of land. Oddly enough she was a lawyer herself having recently graduated and passed the bar where she currently lived.
The defendant’s advocate on the other hand quickly earned the nickname “Uncle Fluffy” in the jury room. At times it seemed like the rerun of a bad “Colombo” episode. You had to wonder if it was all an act.
The defendant was an old man who had some money. He had been through a couple of trials already. His original criminal trial had resulted in a mistrial. His second had found him guilty and sent him to jail for murder. His current lawyer had got him released after a new trial and so he was now free. Except for the daughter of his “victims”. Now it was about money and the she wanted all he had.
The Judge had seen it all before. Not only had he seen every type of trial but he had seen this defendant before. He had presided on the appeal that had set him free and had been there for the retrial that had let the defendant free for good. He had also been there for the fireworks that occurred during the evidentiary hearings that had started the whole ball rolling. So he had truly seen it all before. He had heard the antics the lawyers had tried in the past and wasn’t about to let it happen in this most recent contest.
They were the 12.The Unlucky12. The twelve who were too stupid to get out of jury duty. The twelve who couldn’t find a lame excuse to get out of being here and believe me there were some pretty lame excuses. There was the guy who smelled like he had bathed in Limburger. He couldn’t wait to pop up whenever the judge asked for people to line up with this excuse or that. He claimed PTSD, mental illness, financial stress, anything. If he could have said he was pregnant I’m sure he would have tried. Guess the judge just got tired of him and cut him loose.
There was the Cuban guy who said he felt the guy was guilty otherwise why would he be here and he didn’t think there was anything that could be said that would change his mind. When asked what his verdict would be, he said if he was still back in Cuba they would just have shot the guy. Guess he forgot to take his meds that day. He left skid marks when the judge excused him.
There were the usual business owners whose shops would fall into ruin if they weren’t there. One even offered lunch; at a discount; to the court and jury. Of course provided he was excused to make it. There were those who had upcoming travel plans that couldn’t be postponed. Seemed all of these people had prepaid; must have all used the same travel agent. It finally came down to those who couldn’t think of an easy way out, that’s when it got interesting.
Think of a cross between The Price Is Right and The Wheel Of Fortune; perhaps that should be Wheel Of Misfortune. They put all the numbers of the remaining jurors in a Bingo hopper and gave it a spin. Bingo!!! Juror # … Come On Down!!! Have a seat in the jury box; your misfortune starts now. On it went until they had twelve and the fun started. First the judge asked some questions trying to clear out the obvious deadwood; guess he had to worry that they weren’t listening earlier and had hung around for laughs.
He tried again to get off. His father had been a cop, so had his brother and many cousins. He knew a lot of the cops from local sporting events. No Go. He looked at the witness list and knew quite a few, one of them was a cop cousin of his. Still No Go. He had graduated high school with the brother of the lawyer for the defendant; but it was a small town in a small state and I guess everybody knew everybody. Resigned to his fate he sat down. It should be a quick trial anyway; everyone knew the guy was guilty. Besides he could always use the few extra bucks per diem they paid; plus mileage. Later, too late he found out they would only credit him with a couple of miles at 10 cents per; 20 cents each way each day, a whopping 40 cents per day. Way to rake it in.
Next were the lawyers. He perked up a bit. They had questions and a number of challenges, perhaps one of them would knock him out. The plaintiff’s attorney didn’t seem concerned that he knew Uncle Fluffy; guess he felt sorry more than anything else. When it was his turn Uncle Fluffy asked about his cousin on the witness list.
“He still owes me money”
“Will you give the testimony he presents the same weight as that of any other witness?”
“Yes”
“Would you believe him more or less than any other witness, Because he is your cousin or because he is a police officer?”
“No”
Screwed again. Hoist on his own petard.
On it went all that day. One by one they filled the twelve seats plus two alternates. It was like watching a fishing show. No matter how much they struggled the judicial system went on until it caught its limit. Oh sometimes one got away but it really was shooting fish in a barrel, to continue the metaphor. Being the second selected he had a ringside seat on the process. It was rather interesting, if one wasn’t in the middle of it. Near the end of the day they filed back into the jury room while the judge took care of something with the lawyers, they’d get used to that in the coming days. In the jury room there were the obligatory introductions. It was then that their identities were established.
The Nurse worked at the local hospital in the psyche ward. The County Worker was in the Mayor’s Office, next door to the courthouse. The Security Guard and the Custodian worked at the same high school and knew each other. They all lived in a 30 mile radius of the courthouse though only the Guard and Custodian knew each other before the trial. The Dental Assistant lived in a town 60 miles north while the Mom lived in a rural area about the same distance south.
The Shop Lady, Bowler and Retiree were the oldest and truth be told were basically all retired. The Shop Lady had her own business but had a partner that did a lot of the work so the judge wouldn’t let her off. The Bowler was a retired teacher who had also coached his high school bowling team. The Retiree and his wife were enjoying their golden years in the sun, after having raised a family and built and sold a successful business. The Librarian was the head librarian at her small charter school. The Landscaper ran his own small business. This group lived the furthest away from the courthouse, about a hundred miles each way.
Finally there he was, The Coach. He’d been coaching almost 30 years. He had got into it as almost by accident when he ended up helping a co-worker and his kids. One thing led to another, time passes and here it was 30 years, inertia.
All his life he had been a bit of a wiseass and now it was going to bite him in the ass. Throughout the questioning he’d been making his typical wiseass remarks; playing it for laughs; commenting sotto voce on the proceedings. The other jurors had turned to him when there were lulls and during the lunch break with questions and as usual he was too good for his own sake. He had explained things and had been right often enough for the rest of the jurors to go to him for answers. Little did he know what this was going to get him into.
The first task given them had been to pick a foreperson. He figured one of the older people would be elected. They were the level heads of the group. He was the class clown. Wrong, Strike One: Guess this was the start of the slippery slope. They picked him for the job. Maybe they thought he would screw it up and they would get out faster. Dismissed for the day they were to all return the next day for the real work of the trial; Testimony.