Chapter 22 #2
“Your Honor,” he said, “this would be like excusing a juror in a personal-injury car-crash case for having driven a car. Because this man has checked out how artificial intelligence might improve his product does not constitute a conflict of interest. Are we now going to excuse anyone who has ever asked Siri a question?”
“I tend to agree, Mr. Haller,” the judge said. “I’m going to accept juror seventeen to the panel. Unless you want to use one of your remaining peremptory challenges.”
“Could I have a moment, Judge?” I asked.
“Don’t take too long,” Ruhlin said.
I looked over my shoulder to the gallery section reserved for the prospective jurors who had not yet been called forward and questioned.
I confirmed that there were five left, three men and two women.
There were eleven in the box, including the Swede for the time being.
I could use my last challenges to shoot down the Swede and the football coach, but then I would be out of bullets.
I checked what I called my jury scorecard.
On a legal pad I had numbered the jurors one through fifty and ranked them in my order of preference.
I had scratched out those who had been dismissed and circled those who were currently in the box.
Of the five numbers left, two were among my favorites.
Juror six was a man and juror twelve was a woman.
Juror twelve I had ranked as my number three pick because she was a set builder for film and TV and could be one of the first to be made redundant by AI invading Hollywood production.
I badly wanted her on the jury, especially since my first two picks had been knocked out by the Masons.
Juror six was also in my top twelve. He had listed his occupation as a market analyst for an investment firm.
He was a sleeper on my list because he checked a box the Masons would like—if they had done the same research my team had.
Lorna had looked at the firm juror six worked for and determined that it invested heavily in tech companies involved in developing AI technologies.
That would appear to make him pro-AI to the Masons, but the reality was that he could easily be replaced as an analyst by the very technology his company invested in.
It was my hope that the Masons would be blinded by the AI investments and not realize the possible concerns juror six might have about his future.
I needed to scheme a way to get my last two favorites into the box.
I looked back over my shoulder again. Of the two women remaining, one was Black, one was white.
We had not been allowed to ask questions about race in the interrogatories, so it was not clear which one was the set builder.
According to my chart, the other remaining woman worked in Beverly Hills as a personal assistant.
This would need further clarification during the judge’s questioning, but my guess was she was likely a gofer for a wealthy resident of the high-end enclave.
I had ranked her twenty-eighth on my chart, meaning that I could accept her on the jury if I had no better choice.
I looked closely at the two women. The Black woman had a short-cropped Afro, and her short sleeves revealed well-defined biceps. She looked like she might work with her hands, keeping her hair short and out of the way. I believed this boosted the chances that she was the set builder.
Looking back at the jury box, I confirmed that only one of the current accepted jurors was Black. He was a postal worker who had been on my favorites list.
“Mr. Haller, we’re waiting,” Ruhlin said.
I looked up at her.
“Yes, Your Honor,” I said. “The plaintiffs want to thank and excuse juror number seventeen.”
The television producer.
“You’re using a peremptory?” Ruhlin asked.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Very well. That leaves you with one remaining challenge. Juror seventeen, you are excused, and we thank you for your service.”
The Swede smiled and quickly stood up. He moved out of the box and headed toward the courtroom exit, his body language signaling that he was insulted by his expulsion from the case.
The next randomly selected juror called to the box was a man who was not on my list of favorites.
He was an electrical engineer who would benefit from the continuing expansion of artificial intelligence in business and society.
AI systems used massive amounts of electricity, and people with his credentials would always be needed.
But I easily conflicted him out because he revealed during questioning that he had gone to the University of Wisconsin with one of the key coders of the Clair project, and they had lived in the same fraternity house.
The next man called was knocked out by Marcus Mason because in his responses to interrogatories submitted by the defense, he had listed Terminator 2: Judgment Day as one of his favorite movies.
The film is about artificial intelligence turning against humanity, and Marcus Mason successfully argued that this tainted the potential juror and left him unable to keep an open mind while deciding the case.
He had not been on my favorites list, because I knew when I saw his Terminator answer that he would be terminated from the jury.
His dismissal left three remaining candidates for two slots.
When the judge called juror twelve to the box for questioning, the Black woman came forward.
I confirmed on my list that twelve was indeed the set builder and got ready for what I assumed was going to be a battle.
After brief questioning by the judge brought no surprises or obvious bias, I accepted her for the jury.
Marcus Mason then used one of his two remaining peremptories to excuse her.
I immediately stood and objected, then moved to the lectern.
“Your Honor,” I said. “A jury is supposed to be representative of the community. By my count, this is the fourth time Mr. Mason has used his challenges or objections to remove a minority member of the community from the panel. And my concern is that he will use his last peremptory challenge to remove the only Black person remaining in the jury box. This will make the composition of the jury suspect in terms of diversity and representation, and the plaintiffs strenuously object.”
Marcus Mason was up from his seat and moving to the lectern before I was even finished. He once again addressed the court before the judge called on him. I knew he would put on histrionics in his response. He had to play to the jurors as well as the judge now.
“Your Honor, I find counsel’s insinuation insulting and preposterous,” he said.
“I have been a lawyer in this city for eighteen years and no one has ever questioned my reputation when it comes to equality and diversity. My firm donates liberally every month every year to causes that support racial equality and gender equality. This past month alone we have donated more than one hundred thousand dollars to fire-relief programs working in the minority communities of Altadena. We—”
“Thank you, Mr. Mason,” the judge said, cutting him off. “The question is about the composition of the jury.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” Mason said. “But Mr. Haller hit a nerve with his unfounded complaint.”
“Again, Mr. Mason, the concern is not about you,” Ruhlin said. “It is about the makeup of our jury.”
“I can assure you, Judge, I will not be using my final challenge to remove anyone currently in the jury box,” Mason said. “Mr. Haller’s suggestion is unconscionable.”
“Well, I have to say I share his concern,” Ruhlin countered. “Can you tell me why you want to dismiss juror twelve?”
“All right, fine,” Mason said. “I withdraw the challenge. Juror twelve is accepted by the defense.”
“Very well,” Ruhlin said. “Juror twelve is accepted as the eleventh member of the jury. Thank you.”
We were down to one seat left in the jury box and two potential jurors waiting to be questioned.
The next number the judge called belonged to the financial analyst. I wanted him on the jury but had to make it seem like I was ambivalent about him.
The judge’s questioning raised no red flags.
As she came to the last of her routine questions, I turned in my seat and leaned close to my two clients to whisper.
“We’re almost there,” I said. “I think we can live with these last two if we have to. I’m not worried about this guy, but the—”
While I was whispering, the judge asked if I had any additional questions, but I acted like I didn’t hear her because of the conversation at the table.
“Mr. Haller!” Ruhlin barked.
“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” I said. “I got distracted. Uh, juror six is accepted by the plaintiffs.”
“Thank you,” Ruhlin said. “Mr. Mason, any further questions from you?”
“No, Your Honor,” Mason said. “Juror six is accepted by the defense.”
Bingo. The analyst was in.
“Very good,” Ruhlin said. “We have twelve jurors selected.”
I stood up and went to the lectern with my legal pad.
“Your Honor,” I said. “Plaintiffs would like to use our last challenge to thank and excuse juror nineteen.”
The football coach was out. I was rolling the dice, gambling that the Beverly Hills personal assistant would be a better choice, if only because it added another female to the panel, tilting it to seven women, five men. I would have the female majority I was looking for.
The judge called the personal assistant to the box and questioned her.
My assumption had been on the money. She worked for a wealthy woman and handled a variety of chores, from returning online purchases to walking a pet poodle to grocery shopping.
No red flags were raised and I accepted her to the jury. Marcus Mason did as well.
The box was now full, but Marcus Mason still had two challenges in his pocket.
My view was that you never left a challenge on the table, but if he used one now, the judge would have to call in a second panel of potential jurors and that would likely push completion of jury selection to Monday.
More than once, the judge had sternly reminded us that jury selection would not carry over the weekend.
“Do the parties to the lawsuit accept the jury?” Ruhlin asked.
“Plaintiffs accept the jury as composed, Your Honor,” I said.
Marcus hesitated, probably weighing whether it was wise to upset the judge before the trial even started.
“Mr. Mason?” Ruhlin prompted.
“Yes, Your Honor,” he finally said. “The defense accepts the jury.”
“Excellent,” the judge said. “We have our jury, and the jurors are ordered to report to the assembly room next to this courtroom at nine a.m. Monday. Don’t be late. You are now excused and the court thanks you for your service. Court is now adjourned.”
As the judge left the bench I turned to my clients seated next to me.
“I think we did well here,” I said. “We’ve got a good jury.”
“How come you kicked out the football coach?” Brenda asked. “I thought he seemed like a good man.”
“It was just a hunch,” I said. “He coaches boys in a violent sport. He deals with teenage boys every day, listens to their complaints, knows their insecurities. I just wasn’t sure where his sympathies would truly be, so I went with my gut.
Sometimes it’s what you have to do. I like who we got better, the personal assistant. I think she’ll be on our side.”
I promised them I would be prepping for the trial all weekend and would be in touch. I asked them to take photos of what they planned to wear on the first day and text them to me. I would show the photos to Lorna and maybe Maggie and ask what they thought.
As I was leaving the courtroom, Marcus Mason caught up to me, as I’d known he would. His brother was trailing behind him.
“You motherfucker,” he said. “That stunt you just pulled? Fuck you, man. I’m going to tear you apart next week and love every minute of it.”
I smiled and nodded my head.
“Have a good weekend, Marcus,” I said. “And get some rest. You’re going to need it.”