As Mia drove back to the courthouse, her hands slid on the steering wheel and her stomach was in knots. She put her dad and his new whatever-that-woman-was into a box and closed it. She would think about them later. Right now she had to concentrate on finding out what the jury wanted, and then divining what it meant, if anything. A note from the jury could turn out to be anything from a simple request for a dry erase board to asking if they could view some of the evidence one more time.
When she entered the courtroom, James Wheeler and David Leacham were already sitting at the defense table. When Leacham turned and saw her, he lifted his chin. It felt like a challenge. Mia matched him stare for stare, keeping her face just as expressionless.
A few spectators were scattered on the benches. Bo Yee was in her customary place in the first row behind the prosecution table, looking as if she had never moved. She nodded at Mia, her expression unreadable behind her tinted glasses.
A hand touched her shoulder, and Mia started. It was Charlie.
“Sorry.” He gave her a half smile. “I didn’t mean to make you jump.”
“Just a little anxious, I guess.” For a second, her dad and Luciana peeped out of their box. “If I gave you a name, could you run it for me? It’s personal.”
Charlie raised one thick black eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done to Mia Quinn?” More than once he had teased her for being such a straight arrow. When she started to stammer, he took her arm. “Don’t answer that.” He lowered his voice. “Just tell me the name.”
Should she? Maybe she shouldn’t. Guilt wrestled with worry. Worry won. “Luciana Sanchez,” she said in a low voice. “I think she’s my dad’s new girlfriend. His way-younger girlfriend.”
He nodded. Charlie had the ability to remember whole conversations without jotting down a note, so filing away a name was nothing.
When everyone was in their places, Judge Ortega took her place on the bench. After the courtroom had settled back down into their seats, the clerk handed the judge the note from the jury. Judge Ortega slipped on the black-framed reading glasses that hung on a chain around her neck, then opened the note and read it aloud.
“ ‘We have reached a majority, but we are having difficulty reaching a unanimous decision. We keep going in circles. We are struggling with our next step. Please advise, as tension is getting thick.’ ”
Mia’s heart thudded dully in her chest. This was not good news. The jury was hung, and the trial would not be over until they made a unanimous decision—or until it was clear they could not make one. She could not bear to think all their work had been for nothing.
The judge made a tsk-ing noise with her tongue. “I’m going to call the jury in and issue an Allen charge,” she said.
An Allen charge took its name from a famous case when the judge had broken a deadlock by exhorting the jury. Because it was designed to dislodge jurors from entrenched positions, it was sometimes referred to as the “dynamite charge” or “hammer charge.”
As the nine women and three men of the jury filed in and took their seats only a few feet away from her, Mia watched them closely, trying to figure out the lay of the land. She saw stiff legs, clenched fists, tight jaws, and furrowed brows. Sandra’s cheeks were flushed, and judging by Naomi’s red eyes and smeared makeup, she had recently been crying. Trapped in a small room with each other, jurors could quickly grow frustrated. They lacked the usual ways people had of dealing with conflict, such as leaving to get a beer or walk the dog or just going to another room. Mia knew of juries where insults had been thrown. Sometimes even chairs.
Judge Ortega was silent for a long moment before she addressed them. The silence served to give her words even more weight.
“Members of the jury, I know that each of you is dedicated to doing your duty and that you are being open-minded. And I know that all of you have been working hard to try to find a verdict in this case. It apparently has been impossible for you—so far.” She emphasized the last two words. “I’m going to ask that you continue your deliberations with the hope that you can reach agreement about a verdict and dispose of this case. I have a few comments I would like you to think about as you do so.”
As she spoke, Jim, the accountant who was also the foreperson, scrubbed his face with his hands. He looked even paler, if that was possible, than he had looked during the trial.
“First of all, this trial has been expensive in all ways: time, effort, and money. If you should fail to agree, the case may well have to be tried again. But there is no reason to believe that it could be tried again any better than it has already been tried, or that any more or clearer evidence could be produced.”
After pausing to let this sink in, Judge Ortega continued, “Any future jury would be selected in the same way and from the same pool as you were. I do not believe that the case could ever be submitted to twelve men and women who would be more conscientious, more impartial, or more competent to decide it than you.”
Having offered a carrot in the form of a compliment, the judge now went for the stick. “Remember that you have a legal duty to discuss the evidence with each other. Your goal should be to reach a verdict. Of course, you must each decide this case for yourself, but you should also consider the views of the other jurors. If a substantial majority of you are in favor of a conviction, those who disagree should reconsider whether your doubt is a reasonable one.”
Sandra, Naomi, and several other jurors turned to look at Warren, the young electrician with the two-toned mullet who had seemed uninterested when Mia gave her closing arguments. His expression vacant, he stared at his lap and gnawed on a nail.
Why hadn’t Mia used one of her preemptory strikes on him? During voir dire Warren had seemed like a neutral choice, neither better nor worse than most of the other prospects. He had listened intently to both Wheeler and Mia, and answered their questions appropriately. Now any trace of alertness had vanished. He seemed lost in his own world.
Judge Ortega continued, “On the other hand, if a majority are in favor of an acquittal, the rest should ask yourselves whether you should continue to accept evidence that is failing to convince your fellow jurors. Do not hesitate to change your opinion if you become convinced that you are wrong.” The judge was walking a fine line, asking jurors to change their minds. Showing her awareness of the danger, Judge Ortega added, “However, you should not change your mind just so that you can agree with the other jurors or just to return a verdict. At the same time, remember that it is your duty to agree upon a verdict if you can do so.” She took a deep breath, which seemed to echo in the stillness of the courtroom.
“I have only one request of you. I want you to go back into the jury room. Then, taking turns, tell each of the other jurors about any weakness of your own position. You should not interrupt each other or comment on each other’s views until each of you has had a chance to talk. After that, if you simply cannot reach a verdict, then return to the courtroom, and I will declare this case mistried and will discharge you with my sincere appreciation for your services.” For a long moment, she looked from one face to the next. Even Warren gave her a flicker of a glance. “Please continue your deliberations.”
As she walked out of the courtroom with Charlie a few minutes later, Mia asked him in a low voice, “So do you think it’s Warren?”
“Either that or he’s been farting in the jury room. I would also guess he’s the only thing standing between you and a conviction.”
“One vote might as well be a million if he won’t change his mind.”
Just as they reached the sidewalk, Charlie’s phone buzzed and he pulled it free. “This is Carlson,” he answered. Mia was about to turn away when she saw the expression on his face turn serious. He asked a few questions, then slid his phone back into its holster.
“A runner just pulled a body out of the Sound.”
“So it’s a murder victim?”
“They don’t know yet.” He looked up at the gray sky. “But it’s not exactly the time of year when people go swimming.”