CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

It was cold and raining on Friday morning. I hate this place, Parker thought, taking the five stairs into the criminal courts building, holding his umbrella high enough to give both him and Kyra some coverage. Inside the defense conference room, they took their normal seats on opposite sides of the room and he pulled out his phone. Nothing from Dugan. C’mon man, I know you’re workin’ hard but gimme something. He texted one red heart emoji and a question mark. Having sent positive thoughts to Benny, he started his Wordle. Six tries later, the day was ruined. VIVID? Seriously? Who the fuck would go with a double-V word with a double-I too? Pricks.

The jury asked for more testimony transcripts and then sent another note, this time asking whether they would be deliberating all of Thanksgiving week if they didn’t reach a verdict.

Justice Zannis looked up after reading it. “I intend to send in a short answer—‘Yes, except for Thanksgiving Day itself.’”

Parker was on his feet.

“Your Honor, I’d be concerned about anything from the court that unduly pressured the jury. Perhaps you could just tell them you will discuss their schedule with them early next week, if necessary?”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Parker, but I don’t think being candid about their need to commit to deliberation is pressuring them. So overruled. Send the jury my response.”

At the end of Friday, again around six P.M. at the foreperson’s request, Justice Zannis returned them to the courtroom to repeat her “don’t read the news” instruction, because they would be going home for the weekend. They didn’t look good. Eleven of the jurors were stone-faced, most with arms crossed. Juror 7 was pale and red-eyed and looked like she had been crying, darting her eyes to Kyra before looking back at Justice Zannis.

Stay strong, lady, stay strong! Parker screamed inside.

When the jury was gone and they were alone, Kyra looked at him and raised both eyebrows. “Again,” he answered, “it’s dangerous to read too much into this stuff, but I’m starting to get a hang feeling. There’s an old expression—An ill wind blows through courthouses on Friday afternoons, bringing with it convictions. If they didn’t convict you this afternoon, I’m feelin’ better. Course we got the pressure of Thanksgiving comin’ up. But you saw our juror, right? She’s in there fightin’ for you. So let’s get some rest this weekend and think good thoughts.”

His mood lifted, he texted thinking-face emojis to Benny.

Jessica hung up the phone and raised her voice. “Mildred Jamison. That’s our Gina. Check your email, both of you. We got her flying to and from on eleven of Benny’s twelve hits.”

Benny turned away from her to look at his computer screen, which now showed Mildred Jamison’s driver’s license photo. “Specfuckingtacular. Next move is to focus on our two—The Nose and the guv. Can we put her at the scene?”

“Exactly,” Jessica said. “We got a dozen agents and analysts working that now, seeing if we can take her from the airport here to the hit. But it may be easier than it seems.”

“How so?” Nora had finished reading her email and was now in the doorway.

“Just like she uses the same fake ID for all the hit travel, it looks from the airline records like she’s traveling with the same burner phone while hers stays home in Palm Beach Gardens. And her mistake is that she has Google on the burner.”

Nora and Jessica looked at each other and smiled.

“What?” Benny asked. “Why’s that matter?”

Nora nodded to let Jessica take it. “Because Google’s whole business is advertising, they work very hard to know where you and your phone are at all times, so they can give you the right headlines, the right weather, and suggest the right purchases for you. With the right court order, they can give us a moving map of the device’s past travel.”

Nora was so excited she had to jump in. “You know we can get stuff from historical cell-tower information, but Google’s data is much more precise. They can give us a fricking movie showing the little dot moving. We can see where she goes like we were in a drone overhead that day.”

“Holy shit,” Benny said. “I’m almost starting to feel sorry for the bad guys. Almost.”

On Monday morning, the jury asked for what amounted to the rest of the testimony in the case. That took some time because there were objections and sidebars to remove, but they got it. In the afternoon, they asked for a copy of the court’s definition of “beyond a reasonable doubt.” At four P.M., they followed with a note reading, “Justice Zannis, we regret that we are unable to reach a verdict.”

Parker rose from behind the defense table. “Yes, Mr. Parker?” Justice Zannis asked.

“Judge, after this long of a period of deliberation, you can’t give them a deadlock charge. It would be coercive, and the defense would strenuously object.”

“Mr. Kwon?”

Andy Kwon rose slowly. He was tired and frustrated. “Your Honor, the People request the charge, which the Court of Appeals has said is not coercive but instead an important public service to avoid wasting taxpayer resources on a retrial.”

Justice Zannis didn’t hesitate. “Mr. Parker, I understand the strategy behind your objection. But Mr. Kwon is right that the Court of Appeals strongly encourages the use of a supplemental instruction to remind the jurors of the need, if possible, to reach unanimity because the case will have to be retried in any event by jurors no more qualified than they are. So your objection is overruled. But I will ensure the instruction is appropriately balanced. Please bring in the jury.”

The situation was obvious once the twelve were in the box. Eleven of them seemed to lean away from Juror 7, who was sitting with a straight back and crossed arms. She now looked furious, not sad. Justice Zannis began reading, glancing up and down and urging the jury to try again to reach a verdict. She paused at the end, as if she wanted them to not miss the finish. The pause went on so long that all eyes in the courtroom went to her. Then she continued, with emphasis that was not in the written sample instruction she was reading.

“I want to emphasize that I am not asking any juror to violate his or her conscience, or to abandon his or her best judgment. Any verdict you reach must be the verdict of each juror, and not mere acquiescence to the conclusion of others.”

Parker could swear she looked directly at Juror 7 while reading that part.

“So, please return to the jury room. I’m asking you to continue deliberating and resume your deliberations with an open mind.”

The jury stayed until six P.M. before going home, without a note. Reporters rushed from the courtroom to get their phones from security so they could tweet new headlines: KILLER KYRA HUNG JURY? and luv guv case jam.

Parker didn’t text Benny.