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Typically, the judge asked the jurors a few preliminary questions before turning them over to the lawyers. But it became readily apparent that Judge Smulders had no questions other than those written out for him on a piece of paper he clutched in his hands. Bertha to the rescue again? This forced Kilpatrick, because the prosecutor went first, to kill a lot of time asking the obvious. Do you know any of the people involved? Have you already formed an opinion on the case? Do you believe in the justice system? Are you capable of delivering a death sentence, if you feel the evidence warrants it?
Kilpatrick worked through the obvious dutifully, and Dan didn’t want to make it any slower or more tedious than it already was, so he made no objections. At Fisk’s recommendation, he removed a few jurors early, and neither Kilpatrick nor the judge posed an objection. He was impressed by what an even-handed job Kilpatrick did, never taking advantage of his lead. Until one of the man’s questions made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.
“Does anyone have problems with defense attorneys?” Kilpatrick looked at them with a wide-eyed smile, as if they were all in on the same joke. “I know you said you were okay with the justice system. But that doesn’t always extend to lawyers. You know the clichés. They’re all crooked. Will say or do anything for a buck. Put crooks back on the street. Anyone feel like that?”
Kilpatrick hadn’t said anything quite meriting an objection—yet. Was he trying to suggest that he wasn’t a nasty old lawyer—but Dan was?
A well-dressed, middle-aged white woman in the middle of the back row raised her hand. “Are you talking about that man back there? The one in the fancy suit? I think I know him.”
Kilpatrick gave her a straight-faced reply. “That’s Daniel Pike. He represents the man accused of murder. How do you know him?”
“I’ve seen him on tv. He represented the mayor when she was accused of murder.”
“How did you feel about that?”
She seemed hesitant. “Well...I never voted for the woman.”
Dan made a mental note. He didn’t need Fisk to tell him that woman got his next peremptory removal.
“Did you have an opinion as to her innocence or guilt?”
The woman shrugged. “Looked guilty to me. Rich people can always buy their way out of trouble.”
Ok, this was irritating, if only because it reinforced what Fisk had been saying.
“Do you have negative thoughts toward Mr. Pike because he represented the mayor?”
“I’m...sure he was just doing his job. And making lots of money in the process.”
The worst possible answer. If she had answered the question in the affirmative, he could remove her immediately for cause. But instead, she denied having a grudge—which meant he’d have to use one of his limited peremptory challenges.
Kilpatrick continued. “We shouldn’t resent Mr. Pike because he makes a lot of money and can afford fancy suits.” This was why Kilpatrick wore a lame suit. He anticipated how Dan would dress—and countered it. He was the regular guy. Dan was the slick shyster.
It was never pleasant, realizing you were wrong. But Maria had been correct about the importance of courtroom attire. And Fisk had been right about the threat posed by this prosecutor.
“For that matter,” Kilpatrick continued, “they’ve dressed the defendant up in fancy duds that I’m sure he doesn’t own, but don’t hold that against the man. Your decision must be based upon the evidence. Ma’am, can you set aside your feelings about the attorneys and make a decision based upon the evidence?”
“Sure,” she said. “I just wanted to be honest.”
“And we appreciate that. New question. There’s some controversy about exactly who the defendant is. Does anyone feel they won’t be able to treat him fairly because the court is calling him John Doe?”
* * *
Dan didn’t get his shot at the jury until well in the afternoon, and by that time, they were tired. He knew if he went on too long it would only result in irritation, and he didn’t need to get on their wrong side before the trial began. He had chatted with not only Fisk but Maria and Jimmy, so he felt like he had the consensus opinion on which jurors needed to be removed.
There were a few more questions to ask before they ended the examinations. For the most part they went smoothly and without difficulty. Until they didn’t.
“As you may already know, this case involves a great deal of money. Almost a billion dollars. More money than most people are ever going to see. More moolah than most of us can even conceive of. Some of the players in this drama are extremely rich. Will you hold that against them?”
At first, no one took the bait. Finally, a small man on the left side of the back row raised his hand. Mr. Bailey, he recalled.
“I wouldn’t hold it against them exactly.” He thought a moment. “But I know whenever there’s money to be had, some people do crazy things.”
“And...what exactly do you mean by that?”
“I had a stepsister. Used to be nice. But when my mother died, she went off the deep end. Started saying all kinds of ugly things about me. Claiming I...did stuff. Course it was all because she wanted the money. I ended up giving her half my inheritance just to shut her up. And Mother didn’t leave that much money. Imagine if it had been a billion dollars. Some people would do anything for that kind of cash.”
“Your stepsister may have lied about you...but she didn’t try to kill you, right?”
Bailey looked supremely uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t put it past her. If she thought she could get away with it.”
“What about the rest of you? Do you agree?”
Another woman, Mrs. Kravitz, spoke. “Depends on the people. But when the circumstances are sketchy and you don’t really know who someone is anyway...it’s easy to think the worst.”
Like when a claimant appears out of nowhere after fourteen years? He was starting to worry that just hearing these theories spoken aloud would influence others. He was tempted to shut this down, but he needed to make sure there was no more serious prejudice lurking beneath the surface. “You wouldn’t criticize someone for fighting for what’s theirs. Would you?”
Back to Mr. Bailey. “When someone like my stepsister wants something badly enough, they start lying. Thinking they deserve more than they’re getting. Once they’ve convinced themselves they’re a wronged party, they can justify anything in their minds. Lying, cheating, scheming. Maybe even murder.”
“Agreed,” Mrs. Kravitz said.
“Anyone else feel the same way?”
No one admitted it. But they probably did. He would have to address both the civil and criminal claims in this trial. Because if they believe Ossie was lying—about his identity or anything else—it would be all too easy to believe he was a murderer.