Jury Stress （n.） – Jameson
JURY STRESS (N.):
A FORM OF MENTAL, EMOTIONAL, PSYCHOLOGICAL, PHYSICAL AND SEXUAL TENSION FOUND TO AFFECT JURIES IN LONG TRIALS DUE TO EXHAUSTION, SEQUESTRATION, THE MOUNTAIN OF EVIDENCE AND THE DESIRE TO DO THE RIGHT THING.
JAMESON
Three Days Later
I’ve ranked Lucas’s charges from hardest to easiest to defend and blocked off a separate room for each one at my firm.
Tonight, I’m circling the “Racketeering” room, studying all the evidence I’ve hung on the walls while the screens flicker with witness testimonies.
“My client may not be the most likable businessman, and his ethics may be somewhat questionable, but he’s not the monster the government is painting him to be.” I read the first draft of my opening statement aloud. “In fact, he’s not a monster at all…”
I set the pages down and let out a deep sigh.
The door across from me slowly opens, and Rachel steps inside.
“You’re back one day early,” I say. “Everything alright?”
“No.” Her face is ghost-pale. “Nothing is okay anymore.”
I pull out a chair for her, but she shakes her head.
“You know,” she says, looking around, “maybe you can just admit that Lucas is a monster and paint him as a friendlier kind. Go with the Godzilla versus Aliens defense.”
“That only works if we go for an insanity plea.”
“Try it, then,” she says. “It works for some murderers.”
“He’s still an alleged murderer, Rachel. Alleged.”
“No, he’s a real one.” She tosses a folder onto the desk. “A serial, bloodthirsty one at that.”
Silence.
“Go ahead and open it,” she says. “You sent me to find something on his estate, and I definitely found something.”
“So, there is an old well on the property?”
“No, there are three.”
I say nothing.
I just stare at the folder, leaving it untouched.
“Oh, no you don’t.” She strolls over to me, opens it herself, and shows me an aerial shot of Lucas’s massive estate. Three gray spots are circled in red.
“I, uh…” Her voice trembles. “I waited until nightfall to open the first one. I tried to slide my camera down to take pictures, but it didn’t get too far because it was full.”
I flip the page.
A stack of charred human remains fills the photograph.
“What the fuck?” I stare at the image in disbelief.
“That’s the oldest one,” she says, her voice still shaking. “The other two have some newer additions that are still decomposing, and the maggots are chomping away.”
I flip the page again and realize she’s being more than generous with her description.
“So much for no body, no crime, right?” she asks. “I counted at least fifteen between the wells, but I’m sure there are more. I just couldn’t stomach staying much longer.”
“Thank you, Rachel.” I shut the folder.
I counted at least twenty-six bodies, but I won’t tell her that.
And I won’t dare admit that everything Scarlett told me about him was true.
At least not now.
“This means you’re dropping him as a client, right?”
Possibly.
“Why the hell would I ever do that?”
“Because you’d be standing in open court telling the judge and jury he isn’t a murderer when you know damn well he is.”
“Then I’ll tiptoe around that line,” I say. “You know how I operate.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.” She looks at me like I’ve slapped her across the face. “Right now. Tell me.”
“I’m going to do the job he hired me to do,” I say, because I’m still working on my plan and need to figure out my final play on my own. “I’m going to give him one hell of a defense and do my best to keep my winning record.”
“Your winning record?”
“Yes,” I say. “That thing that you and Scarlett seem to forget that I care about.”
“Scarlett left you over this, remember?”
“Her loss.” I shrug. “When I win this case, I’ll be at—”
“Nine hundred and sixty-fucking-seven, I know.” She crosses her arms. “And I know that also happens to be the exact number of clients Peter Hansel had, including your father when he was convicted. I know you hold that number close to your chest, and you feel like you’re doing the world a favor by trying to balance the scales of justice—”
“That’s exactly what the fuck I’m doing—it’s what the fuck I’ve always done.” I interrupt her. “And if you were ever in my position, you’d do the exact same thing.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t.”
“You didn’t feel this way when I helped your mother beat her charges.” I stand. “Did you?”
“My mother never murdered anyone, Jameson.”
“That’s not the point.” I’m tired of letting her—and Scarlett—pretend like they’re on the high road. “You wouldn’t bat an eye at the chance to fuck over the system that fucked you over first.”
“With limitations.” She narrows her eyes at me. “You would never—ever—help a sex offender or a predator, but you’re willing to help a murderer? Make it make sense.”
“Have a seat, and I’ll do just that.”
“That’s okay, I’ll pass.” She heads to the door. “I’m going to take a page from Scarlett’s book and take a break from you for a while.”
“Are you expecting your job to still be here when you get back?”
“If it isn’t, it’ll be your loss.” She steps into the hall, then she looks over her shoulder. “Scarlett has moved on from you, by the way.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” She nods. There’s someone new. His name is Cole Meyers. He’s an actor, too, and he just landed his first major film role. It’s Spider-Man’s best friend, so he’ll get an entire trilogy out of it.”
“You’re lying.”
“I have no reason to now.” Her face reddens. “I don’t care if you fall apart anymore. He brings her flowers every Tuesday and Thursday, picks her up from her restaurant show job whenever she gets off, and they go on long rides on the outskirts of the city until long after dark.”
“She’s taking things slow since her last boyfriend did a pretty good job of fucking her up emotionally—you know, defending her murderous dad and all, but Cole has already told all his friends and family about her,” she says.
“It’ll only be a matter of time before he asks her to be exclusive, and shortly after that—six months or so—he’ll probably propose. ”
She’s not lying at all.
My chest is seconds away from caving in. I can’t bear to hear any more.
“She’ll probably get his family heirloom with four to five carats, and by that time, you’ll still have your unbeatable winning record.” Rachel smiles. “It’s a win-win for everyone, isn’t it?”
She slams the door before I can answer.