Chapter 55
CHAPTER
We broke for lunch shortly after twelve o’clock. Barely three hours into jury selection, and I was already mortally exhausted.
The panelists were dropping like flies. All kinds—Black, white, old, young, male, female. They were snatching at any pretext to be excused from serving on that jury.
Most folks fell into that category: people intent on escape.
But I’d picked up on a handful that leaned to the other extreme.
Citizens who desperately, fervently wanted to be on the jury.
Were overly eager to serve. They had an axe to grind.
It was clear to me that they’d already made up their minds, before a shred of evidence had been presented in court.
They were determined to snare a seat in the jury box.
I wanted those people gone. They had no business taking part in the case. I couldn’t entrust them with any power over a jury verdict.
It was a relief to see the clock tick past twelve. I declared a recess, sent them all away for an hour. Hopefully, they’d be able to get some lunch and be back on time. We didn’t have a wealth of dining options in Union Springs, and the streets of town were teeming with people.
I’d anticipated that. Thought ahead and brought my own lunch. I had tossed a couple of hard-boiled eggs into a Rubbermaid container, with an apple and a hunk of cheese. Put that in a grocery bag with two cans of Diet Coke. I was really looking forward to popping a silver can.
I’d barely had time to pull the makeshift meal from the mini fridge I kept in the corner of my office when the door opened. A full camera crew marched into chambers, led by my sister Nellie.
Nellie greeted me with a breezy “Hey, Mary.”
“Nellie!” My voice was sharp. “What are you doing back here?”
The smile dropped right off her face. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re doing the photo shoot.”
“What photo shoot?”
She scuttled around my desk, like she wanted us to speak privately, without being overheard. “The one we’ve talked about for the last six months. You’ve got to have a TV ad. You know your opponent will. I heard he’s already buying up time slots during the evening news hour.”
It came to me, then: my campaign. Nellie was right, we’d discussed campaign materials. Just conversation, thus far, about TV, direct mailings, some billboards on the highway. Yard signs. We’d need film to get them made. A photographer, a crew. But today?
“Your timing is way off, Nellie. We’re picking the jury for the Gaines trial.”
Nellie grabbed my robe from the coatrack, shook it out. “Actually, the timing is fortuitous. Couldn’t be better. Kenny and his crew, they’re freelance. They’re at the courthouse today to get trial footage to sell. So they have time to work you in, right now.”
I let her help me into the robe and zip it up. She dabbed at my forehead with a tissue.
“You got lipstick?”
“Yeah.”
“Purse or desk?”
“Both.”
I watched as Nellie pulled my desk drawer open with a jerk. Two lipsticks rattled in the pen tray.
She grabbed one, pulled the top off, squinted down the tube. “This will work. It’s a matte, nice natural tone. You don’t want anything too bright, too wet. Gotta look dignified.”
I didn’t argue. Partly because she was right. I needed the footage. I didn’t want to look flashy. And the faster we could get around to it, the sooner they’d all leave. I wanted to eat a hard-boiled egg and wash it down with aspartame.
At Nellie’s direction, I sat at the bench. The photographer tinkered with the lighting while Nellie worked on my hair. The commercial director walked up to the bench and handed a file off to me.
“Smile!” A young woman was snapping still pictures with a Canon.
I did try to smile but suspected I had a caught in the headlights expression.
I was still gripping the file folder I’d been given. I opened it, curious to see what it contained. In truth, I expected to see a bill for services rendered.
But no. It contained a short script. I quickly scanned the lines.
Slapped that file down on the bench. With Nellie’s brush tugging at my scalp, I was close to losing my cool.
“What the hell?” I lifted the page, read aloud. “‘I’m Judge Stone, and I’m tough on crime.’ Who came up with that? It sounds like I’m the county DA’s puppet! It’s not accurate, you understand me? Because I’m tough on everybody. Everyone! That’s what I intend to say.”
The director squinted through round tortoiseshell glasses. “Judge, I seriously advise you to just go along. Deliver the script exactly as it was written. Okay?” He waved Nellie away, saying, “Hair’s fine. She looks good. Let’s see if we can get this on the first take. Judge Stone, are you ready?”
“No. Not ready for this.”
Off somewhere to the side, Nellie groaned. I kept my gaze on the man in charge of the ad. “I prefer to be authentic. That’s how I want to proceed with this.”
He gave me a sad kind of smile. “But do you want to win, Judge? Be reelected? If so, you need to go with the script. Just read it aloud.”
“I don’t think you know me very well.” I was about to say more. He cut me off.
“Maybe not, but I know about political ads. If you want to keep your job, you need to show your support for law-and-order constituents. Businesspeople, property owners. Criminals don’t vote, you know what I’m saying?
You’re going to need the endorsement of the chamber of commerce.
You can’t win this race without it. In local elections, they control the votes and the money. ”
I should’ve eaten that apple. Maybe if my blood sugar had been stable, I’d have held on to my temper and controlled my tongue.
Because I slapped both hands on the bench and said, “Fuck that. People in this county know me. I’m running on my record.”
I tore the script in two before walking off the bench and back into chambers.