17

Finney stopped by the restroom after his interrogation. He found Kareem at the sink, washing his hands and wrists. Finney headed to the urinal. “You’re gonna love the cross-examination room,” he said.

“I am pure. They can ask me what they wish.”

“It’s a lie detector,” Finney said. “You ever been hooked up to one before?”

“No.”

Finney finished and stood behind Kareem at the sink. “It monitors your heart rate, breathing, and other vital signs. The theory is that they can tell when you’re lying because—”

“I know what a lie detector is,” Kareem snapped. “I’m a lawyer, remember? I’ve seen dozens of lie detector tests administered to my clients. I never trust them.” He rinsed out his mouth and then held some water in his palm, sniffing it up his nose.

“Me, either,” Finney said, watching Kareem with curiosity.

In silence, Kareem washed his face from his forehead to his chin and from ear to ear. Finney realized that this was probably part of Kareem’s purification process for his midday prayers. Either that or the man was some kind of compulsive neat freak.

“You mind if I slip in there?” Finney asked.

Kareem was in the process of washing his forearms. Without responding, he shook the water off and stepped aside.

Finney washed his hands and then stepped out of Kareem’s way to dry them. Meanwhile, Kareem wet his right hand and passed it over his thick black hair.

“How often do you have to do this?” Finney asked.

“Five times a day,” Kareem said. He breathed in deeply and then stopped for a second, looking at Finney in the mirror. “If a pure river ran to your door and you took a bath five times a day, would I notice any dirt on you?”

“What kind of soap?”

Kareem ignored the response. “Of course I wouldn’t. The same can be said for the five prayers by which Allah annuls evil deeds.”

“I admire the passion of your beliefs,” Finney said. “But I’d hate to see your water bill.”

Kareem shook his head and resumed his washing.

“Good luck,” Finney said as he opened the door to leave. As soon as the words crossed his lips, he wished he could take them back.

“I do not believe in luck,” Kareem said.

Finney didn’t believe in luck either when the drawings took place later that afternoon. At least not good luck.

With cameras rolling, Tammy gave them their next assignment. After two false starts and one quick break to reapply her makeup, she managed to get it right. In two days the contestants would start the next phase of the trial process. They would each be asked to cross-examine one of the other contestants about the weaknesses in the other’s belief system. Tomorrow and the next day would be for research and preparation. Three contestants would go Thursday; two contestants would go Friday. Highlights would run on next week’s show.

Dr. Kline drew first. She picked a card from Tammy’s hand and turned it over. “Kareem Hasaan,” she announced.

“This means that Mr. Hasaan draws next,” Tammy said with a smile.

Kareem drew the next card. “Judge Finney,” he announced. He shot Finney a triumphant look.

Finney winked, then stood to draw the next name. “Hokoji Ando,” he said. Darn it! Every lawyer knew it was toughest to cross-examine a witness who elicited sympathy. Finney would have to handle Ando with kid gloves.

Ando then drew Hadji, and Hadji was left with Dr. Kline.

“We may need to spend some time together in private preparation,” Hadji suggested. Victoria Kline gave him a look that could melt steel.

Before they left the courthouse, Judge Javitts turned to the day’s final order of business. To Finney’s surprise, Javitts told the contestants that he was prepared to render his verdict for the opening statement episode and that it had been heavily influenced by the jury members. He explained that he had purposely selected a diverse jury composed of several production crew extras—“runners” in the lingo of the trade—two security guards, the cook from the Paradise View, and two members of the resort lawn crew. After the contestants had finished, Javitts had discussed the opening statements with the jury in another room while the contestants took their turns with the lie detector.

“Contestants, please stand,” Javitts ordered. Finney knew the protocol—this was what criminal defendants and their lawyers did at the end of a criminal case. “Based on my consultation with the jury and my observation of the opening statements, I am rendering my first verdict in favor of—” Javitts looked from one contestant to the next in standard reality show staging—“the Buddhist advocate, Dr. Ando.”

Finney looked to his left and watched the shy Dr. Ando nod in thanks. Finney did his best to mask his own disappointment. It’s not as if Ando didn’t deserve the verdict, Finney told himself. And Finney had been around courtrooms long enough to know that a lot could happen between opening statements and final judgments.

But he also noticed that the warm and fuzzy feelings he had last night toward the other contestants, particularly Ando, had largely disappeared. Finney wasn’t used to losing. As a trial lawyer, he had put together a remarkable won-lost percentage. As a judge, of course, he lost only on those infrequent occasions when the appellate court didn’t see things his way. He reminded himself that this was undoubtedly a sympathy verdict. After all, he still had truth on his side. And even in a court of law, that ought to count for something.

Ando could have his fifty thousand dollars. Finney had his sights set on a million.

“That’s just unacceptable,” Murphy lectured. “I watched the tests myself.”

Bryce McCormack leaned inconspicuously against the wall with his arms crossed. He was staying out of this one. He didn’t even join the men at the table.

The air of confidence that had accompanied Dr. Zirconni’s first announcement of his polygraph results had long since dissipated. The man appeared to be shrinking by the minute under Murphy’s assault.

“Why’d we fly you all the way out here for this?” Murphy asked. “Bryce, do we have enough footage for the first show without the polygraph tests?”

Bryce shrugged. They both knew they would never cut the polygraph segment. Murphy was just trying to pressure this guy by threatening his few minutes of fame.

Zirconni placed his glasses on the table. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t give the answers; I just interpret them.”

The problem, as expressed by Murphy, was that Zirconni had ferreted out few doubts among the advocates about their cases. Ando admitted that reasonable doubt had crept into his mind when he heard both Finney and Dr. Kline. Zirconni also concluded that Dr. Kline, despite her denials, had reasonable doubt when she listened to Ando and Finney. But none of the other advocates—Finney, Hasaan, or Hadji—harbored any doubts at all.

“Wouldn’t it be more interesting if the advocates were struggling a little themselves?” Murphy asked. “I just can’t believe that these guys all think they’ve got a monopoly on truth. I watched Finney with my own eyes. The guy was sweating like a pig.”

“It’s not my job to make it more interesting,” Zirconni said.

“Yeah, but can you sit there and tell me that there was no difference at all between Finney’s answers when you asked him about Kline and Hasaan, on one hand, or Hadji and Ando, on the other?”

Zirconni pulled in a long breath and glanced at Bryce McCormack, apparently hoping for a bailout. When none came, Zirconni picked up his graphs, put on his reading glasses, and studied them again.

“I’m not saying there was no difference,” Zirconni explained. “I’m just saying that Judge Finney denied he had reasonable doubts, and with respect to Ando and Hadji, the data is inconclusive. I can’t say he was lying.”

“All right,” Murphy countered. “But that means you can’t say he was telling the truth, either. Am I right?”

“I suppose.”

“Okay, now we’re getting someplace. With respect to Finney, why don’t we just show his response to those two questions on camera and let you explain how the heart rate and breathing increased a little, though the results were inconclusive.”

Zirconni considered this. “I guess I could go that far. Just as long as I say the same thing about Hadji with regard to his answer when I asked him about Ando.”

Murphy looked at Bryce, who shrugged his acquiescence. “Works for us,” Murphy said.

After a few more minutes of discussion, Zirconni left the room.

“Is that part of the ABF plan?” Bryce asked.

“The what?” Murphy said.

“The ABF plan—anybody but Finney.”

Murphy scowled. “He was lying, Bryce, and you know it. He just knows how to beat the machine.”

“Justice on Paradise Island,” Bryce said sarcastically.