“I cannot believe I wound up on this jury.”
In an instinctively polite move, Summer nodded at juror four, the twenty-something woman seated across from her. Brittany…yes, that was her name. Satisfied she now knew all she wanted to about her, Summer quickly ducked her head back into the book she’d brought to pass the time. An hour ago, they’d been summoned back into the courtroom, sworn into service, read the charges, and then given an abbreviated, early lunch break. She’d found a secluded spot in the far corner of the basement cafeteria to devour the not so fresh sandwich she’d purchased, but there really wasn’t any place in the entire building that wasn’t riddled with other people’s emotions, and that fact was becoming even clearer now that she was back in the small jury room with five of her peers.
She’d been listening to Brittany complain for the last thirty minutes, and her whine was beginning to wear. Summer resisted pointing out that if she’d spoken up this much during jury selection, maybe she wouldn’t have wound up serving, but she didn’t want to engage. She could sympathize, though. She didn’t want to be on the jury either. For so many reasons. Way more important reasons than the missed spa day Brittany had mentioned, but she wasn’t about to air her grievances in this group of strangers.
“How long do you think it will take?”
“A day. Two at the most.” Summer spoke the words before thinking, and she immediately spotted the light in the woman’s eyes, like she realized she’d lucked into someone knowledgeable about the court system. She sought to minimize. “I really have no idea.”
“Sounds like you have some idea.”
“Yeah, it does.” The second voice was the man who’d talked a lot during voir dire, juror eighteen—Wayne. He’d been acting like he didn’t want to be here, but it was clear he craved the attention that came with being selected to serve on the jury. He poured his second cup of coffee and settled into the seat next to hers.
Summer shifted in her chair. “Just guessing. You know, based on what I’ve seen on TV. They read out a list of witnesses and there weren’t very many. It’s a misdemeanor case and the judge said probation was an option. Doesn’t sound like anything earth-shattering to me.”
“True,” Brittany said. “I mean, either he had the drugs or he didn’t. I’m thinking he did.”
“We’re not supposed to talk about the case.”
The three of them turned toward the door of the room and Summer felt a rush of relief. The man entering the room, Tucker, had been on the first row during voir dire, seated next to Brittany. Like her, he hadn’t said much during the proceeding, but Summer was certain he was a gentle, thoughtful soul. She felt his stress about having to sit in judgment, but also his strong enough sense of duty not to try to use that stress to get out of his civic responsibility. She watched him settle into a chair across from her and meet her eyes with an inquisitive expression that told her she’d been staring. Careful, Byrne. She nodded to acknowledge his words. “You’re right. We shouldn’t be discussing anything about the case.”
“Well, can we at least talk about how bad this coffee is?” Wayne said, raising his mug. “I mean, this case better not last long or I’ll have to find a way to sneak a thermos of my personal brew into this place.”
“How about we share a little bit about ourselves,” Tucker said. “I’ve lived in Dallas my entire life, but this is my first time on a jury. I don’t have a clue what to expect. I’m an organist for a church in Uptown.”
His warm, friendly voice almost compelled Summer to jump in next, but she resisted the urge. She wasn’t here to make friends. These people were a group of strangers who would bond for a day or so and then go home, likely never to see each other again. She’d share as little as possible with them lest she risk everything she’d put into making a new start for herself and Faith.
She needn’t have worried. Wayne was eager to do all the talking.
“I’m the CEO of my own start-up restaurant delivery service,” he said, proceeding to list all the ways his business was better than another one in town. “I took several law classes in business school so if we get to anything complicated, I’m sure I can help out.”
Summer caught the rest of the group rolling their eyes as Wayne wrangled for a nomination to foreman when the time came to make the choice. Thankfully, at that moment, the bailiff showed up at the door and told them the judge was ready for them to reenter the courtroom.
Everyone stood as they entered the room and filed into their seats in the jury box. The courtroom looked different from the jury box than it had when they were sitting in the gallery. Once they were seated, the rest of the people in the room followed suit, and Summer glanced at everyone in the room. Owen and Ben sat at the table closest to them. Ben was anxious, the nerves emanating off of him in strong waves, but Owen was calm and collected. The defendant was huddled close to his attorney and they appeared to be in a deliberative discussion. She wasn’t able to make out words from their whispers, only a contentious tone. The defense attorney ultimately shushed his client with a stern look, and Summer had a flash of the pain it caused the defendant to be silenced so abruptly.
“Is the state ready to proceed?” the judge asked.
Ben rose from his chair. “We are, Your Honor.” He pushed off from the table and walked a few feet toward them and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I’d like to begin by thanking you for your service. Today, you will hear a case with facts that sound routine. The police pull over a motorist on a routine traffic stop, but once they speak with the defendant, they realize something more is happening based on the defendant’s demeanor, the way he responds to simple questions, the way he shifts his eyesight to indicate his concern the stop might escalate into more than just a speeding ticket or some other simple violation. You will hear testimony that the defendant was in possession of an illegal substance, marijuana, and it was right there in the passenger compartment of the vehicle.”
He kept talking, but the rest of his words fell away as Summer felt a strong pull to look at the defendant, Jex, who was staring straight ahead, looking decidedly uncomfortable at being the topic of conversation.
“I didn’t do it.”
The statement was definitive and clear, and Summer instantly knew he was telling the truth even if no one else in the courtroom heard Jex’s words. She barely listened to the rest of Ben’s statement, keeping her eyes trained on Jex, looking for any additional sign to support the overwhelming feeling everything that was being said about him was dead wrong. He looked young, almost too young to be tried as an adult, but she supposed if this were really a big deal, they’d be in a felony trial and Jex would be facing jail time. Still, he looked awfully nervous for a guy who was looking at probation at worst, but she knew above anything else he didn’t do what he was accused of, and she hoped the trial would bear out his innocence.
✥ ✥ ✥
Three hours later, Summer took her seat with the others in the jury room and tried not to yawn. The level of angst in the courtroom had her on edge, and she was thankful the testimony was over, and they were one step closer to going home.
Wayne took the seat at the head of the table and called them to order. “The judge said we should elect a foreperson before we do anything else. Would anyone like to volunteer?”
Summer could tell he was itching to fill the role, and she didn’t care either way. As long as they all reached the same conclusion, it didn’t matter who tallied the votes.
“She should do it.”
Summer whipped her head to the left and saw Yolanda, the only other woman besides her and Brittany on the jury, pointing in her direction. Yolanda was a schoolteacher nearing retirement, and up to this moment, hadn’t said more than a few words. “What?”
“You seem to know a lot about courtroom stuff,” Yolanda said as she scanned the faces of the rest of the group, daring them to question her. I think you’d do a great job.” She raised her hand. “I vote yes. Who’s with me?”
Summer watched as the rest of the jurors raised their hands, some, like Wayne, more slowly than others. Resigned to her fate, she pulled one of the pads of paper on the table toward her. “I think the first order of business should be to review the evidence.”
“How about we take a vote?” Wayne said. “I’m pretty sure I know how we’re all going to vote.”
The rest of the jurors voiced their approval. Summer briefly closed her eyes and mentally counted the five guilty verdicts scrawled on snips of paper she was about to tear from the pad. No sense wasting paper on this round. “Okay. Let’s do a show of hands. Everyone who votes guilty?”
Three hands shot into the air and two more tentatively joined them. Summer watched her fellow jurors smile at each other in celebration of the fact they were about to go home. She hated to kill their joy, but she’d hate herself more if she didn’t follow her gut. “And not guilty?” She slowly raised her hand as the rest of the jurors stared at her in disbelief.
“Seriously? You were in the room, right?” Wayne wasn’t holding back. “It’s freaking Friday afternoon. Don’t you have somewhere you’d rather be?”
Summer stared him down and then looked at the rest of the group. Yolanda’s expression said she was reconsidering the prudence of recruiting Summer to the position of foreperson, but it didn’t matter. She’d make the same decision either way. “Yes, I do, but we swore an oath to follow the law. I don’t think Mr. Jex should’ve been arrested in the first place.”
“So, now the guy with marijuana in his car is Mister Jex, worthy of our respect?” Wayne said. “You don’t think he’s guilty, but you don’t really know, do you?” “She probably thinks the guy who broke into my car last week deserves a prize for his efforts.”
Summer started to answer the unspoken question before she caught herself. Instead she took a different approach. “You’re right. I don’t know, but I want to be sure, like beyond a reasonable doubt sure, before I sign my name to a verdict. How about we take a minute to review the evidence and the instructions and then take another vote?”
Wayne sighed. “Do we have a choice?”
Yolanda jabbed a finger at him. “I want to go home too, but there’s no need to be mean about it. The sooner we review everything, the quicker we’ll get out of here. Is everyone okay with that?”
With a few grunts and groans, everyone agreed, and Yolanda motioned to Summer to begin. She cleared her throat and picked up her pen. “Officer Rawlings said he was driving down Mockingbird Lane when he spotted Jex’s car. He said he noticed it because Jex was weaving in traffic. He turned on his camera and followed him for a quarter mile, and then activated his siren and pulled him over.”
“So far, so good,” Wayne said.
“I don’t recall the video showing any weaving,” Summer said, repeating the claim the defense attorney made during his closing argument, making a note on the pad in front of her. “But we can watch it again if we need to.”
“The cop said he probably got his driving under control when he realized he was being followed,” Wayne said.
“That’s convenient.”
Summer turned to look at the unfamiliar voice of juror seven, Ian, who up to now hadn’t said a word. He was young, probably around Brittany’s age. “Care to elaborate?”
Ian shifted in his seat. “Uh, look, I voted guilty because he had the pot in his car, so he’s guilty of that, right? But face it, cops pull people over all the time just looking for something wrong.” “It happened to me last month. Luckily, I didn’t have any on me at the time.”
“He’s right,” Brittany said. “But that’s their job, right?”
Summer set her pen down. “Let’s talk about that. If the stop itself wasn’t legal, then we’re done here. It doesn’t matter what they found in the car.” She picked up the jury instructions they’d been given. “It says so right here.”
“I don’t care what that says, the case wouldn’t have made it this far if there weren’t a good reason for the officer to arrest this guy in the first place,” Wayne said. “My vote stands.”
“Tell us what you mean,” Yolanda said to Summer.
Summer took a moment to frame her thoughts in layman’s terms. “It’s like both attorneys said. The first step is probable cause. The officer has to have a reasonable belief that the defendant, Jex, committed a crime. He has to have that to justify pulling him over and asking him questions, asking him to step out of the car, and detaining him on the side of the road while he looks around in the car.”
Yolanda nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. So, no weaving, no probable cause. And if it’s not on the video, we only have the officer’s word.”
“Which should be plenty,” Wayne said. “He explained that people start driving correctly when they know they’re being followed. Happens all the time.”
“Okay,” Yolanda said. “Assuming that’s true, what’s next?”
All eyes turned to Summer, and she made a show of looking at the jury instructions, but she already knew the answer. “Next we look at the search itself and why the officer determined it was necessary to search the car, what he found, and where he found it.”
Wayne snorted. “Jex was fidgeting. He looked nervous and his eyes were red. Put that with the weaving and it was perfectly reasonable for the officer to assume he was a druggie.”
“Assumptions aren’t facts,” Tucker interjected. “People assume a lot of things that simply aren’t true.” “Everyone at my church assumes I’m straight.”
“Whatever,” Wayne said, his tone abrasive. “Those are the facts.” “Let’s take another vote and get the hell out of here. Please let these people wise up.”
“You want facts? I’ll give you facts,” Yolanda replied, and she started ticking off points with her fingers. “One, Jex was driving his cousin’s car and he’d never driven it before, which could account for the weaving. Two, he’d just broken up with his girlfriend and he said he had been crying. There’s your red eye explanation. Three, I get nervous when I get pulled over by a cop even when I haven’t done anything wrong. Cops make people nervous even if you like them.” “Remember that time I’d had one too many and tried to drive to my sister’s and hit the mailbox next door.”
Summer watched the back-and-forth, silently rooting for Yolanda’s argument to win Wayne over, but she knew there was little chance of that since he seemed entrenched in his desire to get to a quick guilty. Time to move on. “Let’s talk about where the drugs were found in the vehicle.”
“What difference does it make?” Wayne said. “No one disputes they were there.”
“It makes a difference if Jex didn’t have care, custody, and control of them.” Summer listed her points. “The car wasn’t his, and according to him and his cousin, it was his first time driving it. If the drugs were in a part of the car out of his reach, then who’s to say he even knew they were there?”
“If they belonged to the cousin, he should do the right thing and step up to take the blame,” Brittany said.
“You’re assuming they know what the right thing is,” Wayne said.
“You’re assuming either of these boys knew the drugs were there.” Summer knew she sounded crazy. Who wouldn’t believe a couple of nineteen-year-olds had some pot and got caught with it? It wasn’t like it didn’t happen all the time, but this was different. Maybe the cousin was lying and the pot was his, but Jex was telling the truth. Too bad gut feelings and invisible voices weren’t admissible evidence she could whip out for the rest of the jurors to consider. She took another tack.
“Even if Jex’s cousin knew the pot was there and wasn’t big enough to admit it, that still doesn’t conclusively establish Jex knew it was there, let alone had access to it.” She started digging through the box of exhibits from the trial. “Here,” she said, holding up a diagram of the Honda CRV Jex had been driving when he was pulled over. She stabbed her finger at the console in the back seat. “Here’s where the officer says he found the drugs.” She held her forefinger on the spot and spread her hand so her pinkie was touching the driver’s seat. “It’s quite a distance from there to the front seat.”
The rest of the jurors crowded around the table and stared at her hand on the diagram, and Summer held it there, cocking her head at a faint voice slowly whooshing through the quiet. She looked around. No one’s lips were moving, but she met the eyes of Ian, who’d gotten quiet as the conversation had progressed. “Don’t get involved. I need to get to work on time tonight or I’ll get fired.”
Summer briefly closed her eyes and sent a silent message back. “Do the right thing and everything else will work out.” She opened her eyes to find Ian staring intently at her and she wondered if the message landed. She didn’t have to wonder long.
“I have this same car,” Ian said, flinching slightly as all eyes turned his way. Summer offered him an encouraging smile and he pressed on. “There’s no way anyone in the driver’s seat could reach into that back console without climbing into the back seat.”
Summer looked at the faces of the other jurors, which were more thoughtful than dismissive for the first time since they’d started deliberating.
“Maybe he didn’t know it was there.”
“I guess it’s possible.”
“It wasn’t his car, after all.”
Yolanda summed it up best, and she did it out loud. “And that, folks, is reasonable doubt.”
✥ ✥ ✥
Owen looked up from the police report she was reading. “Stop pacing. You’re driving me crazy.”
Ben paused for a moment and resumed his back and forth across the small space of the DA workroom. “What’s taking so long? This should be an open-and-shut case.”
He was right. There had been a total of three witnesses and very little other evidence to review. A simple traffic stop led to the discovery of marijuana in the defendant’s car. Jex’s bullshit excuse that the car and therefore the pot wasn’t his was the predictable explanation of every other defendant in the exact same situation, but reasonable people didn’t fall for that argument. Owen understood the jury wanting to discuss the case because the judge had told them to do so, but considering the straightforward facts, she would’ve expected a verdict within the hour. It had been three hours and the clock was inching toward five p.m. Any minute now, Judge Dewitt would send the bailiff in to see if there was a chance they would reach a verdict today or if they should hold the case over the weekend and resume on Monday, which would spell disaster both for the verdict and for the havoc it would wreak on her schedule. What was the holdup?
As if in answer to her question, Landry, the bailiff, poked his head in the door. “Light’s on. I’m headed back there.” He popped out again before she could ask any questions.
“Do you think it’s the verdict?” Ben asked.
“Better be,” Owen muttered under her breath. Louder, she said, “Let’s go find out.” She stood and pulled her jacket off the back of the chair and slipped it on. Her afternoon had been a total waste. Normally, she would’ve spent the time planning for next week or finishing up evaluations for one of the many prosecutors under her supervision, but today she’d sat stewing in the tiny DA workroom shared by the three prosecutors assigned to court twelve, pretending to pore over investigative notes for the Adams trial while she pondered why this jury was taking so damn long to decide this uncomplicated case. Time to get answers.
Except for the defendant, his attorney, and Landry, the courtroom was deserted, which was typical for a Friday afternoon. Owen nodded at opposing counsel and joined Ben at counsel table, resisting the urge to pace the floor while they waited for the jury to enter the room. A moment later, Judge Dewitt appeared in the doorway behind the bench, shrugging her way into her robe. “Any last-minute issues before we bring the jury in?”
“If it’s a one-word verdict, are we staying over this evening or starting back up on Monday?” Moss asked. “I only ask because my wife made reservations for our anniversary at the Mansion, and if I’m not going to make it, I’d like to give her time to find someone to take my place.”
“Now that’s a meal you don’t want to miss,” Dewitt said. “I’m thinking I should hold you in contempt, have Landry here take you into custody, and take your place.”
“She would probably enjoy that very much. I love food as much as the next person, but a seven-course tasting menu seems a little painful to me.”
“Prepare yourself, Mr. Moss. We’re not staying over tonight.”
Owen stared hard at the judge, impatient with the casual conversation and determined to read Dewitt’s body language. Were they not staying late because the case would be over or did the judge simply want to let the jury go home for the weekend? She’d just as soon go straight into the punishment phase of the case. It would likely only take a bit longer, and then her schedule would be clear for next week. Plus, it was almost never a good idea to have a two-day break in proceedings. People started thinking, reflecting on the decision they’d made and sometimes second-guessing. If they started to regret finding the defendant guilty, they might try to make up for it by imposing a token punishment, like time served or a light probation.
“Go ahead and bring them in, Mr. Landry,” Dewitt said, breaking into her obsessive thoughts.
A moment later, the jury filed in, their eyes down and their pace quiet. They settled into their seats in a different order than they’d filed in, and it took a moment for Owen to spot Summer. She’d made a point of connecting with her during the testimony and closing arguments, partly to foster a connection that might lead to a guilty verdict, but mostly because she was smokin’ hot. Right now, she’d settle for some sign, from Summer or anyone else on the jury, to give her a clue as to how they’d decided the case. She didn’t have to wait long.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I understand you’ve reached a verdict?” Judge Dewitt asked.
Owen’s mouth went dry when Summer stood and said, “We have, Your Honor.”
“On the single count of possession of marijuana, what is your verdict?”
Owen held her breath.
“We find the defendant, Nathan Jex, not guilty.”
“So say you all?”
The jurors nodded, even the outspoken big guy who worked in sales. Despite his agreement with the verdict, he looked a little surly, like he’d just been through a wringer. When the trial started, Owen had pegged him as the foreman considering his overbearing need to control the conversation during voir dire, but so far, she’d been wrong about every single aspect of this case.
The judge dismissed the jury and then the defendant. Ben turned to her. “I’m going back to talk to them. Want to join me?”
Talking to the jury after the verdict could be a mixed bag, especially if you’d lost the case, but when she trained new prosecutors, Owen had always emphasized trying to do so since the jurors’ feedback about what worked and what didn’t could be a valuable learning tool. Of course, before now her visits to the jury room had always consisted of a session of praise for her presentation of the case and confirmation that she’d been on the right side of the law. Hard to imagine this jury would have anything to say that made sense. She considered sending Ben on his own, but maybe she needed to hear for herself why they had taken a simple fact pattern and twisted it into knots.
The jurors were clutching their coats and their bags, and the big guy, juror eighteen, had already bolted when the attorneys entered the room. Defense counsel, Tom Moss, shook each juror’s hand and personally thanked them for doing the right thing by his client. Owen ducked her head to hide her distaste and wondered if he would celebrate by smoking a bowl of his rumored stash. When she looked back up, Summer was staring at her with a knowing smile. Why do I feel like she knows everything I’m thinking?
“Lots of doubt,” juror seven said to Moss. “Way reasonable.”
Owen wanted to roll her eyes. “Would it give any of you pause if you knew he’d been arrested for possession of marijuana before?” She’d blurted out the words and immediately wanted to reel them back in. First rule of interacting with the jury—do not shame them, especially with information they couldn’t, wouldn’t, know when they’d decided the case. She hadn’t been allowed to bring up the prior arrest during the guilt-innocence phase of the trial because it wasn’t considered relevant to the facts of this case. She’d been hoping the judge would allow them to broach the subject during punishment, but even that was iffy considering the first case had been dismissed after Jex successfully completed probation.
“I don’t know,” juror five said. “I do know Summer was a great foreperson. She forced us to look hard at the evidence, especially the part about how your client didn’t own the car and whether the marijuana was where he could get to it easily.”
Damn. She shook her head as she listened to the jurors tell Moss what a great job he’d done balancing out the story the police officer had relayed, and she felt foolish for all the extra effort she’d expended connecting with Summer during the trial with pointed looks and smiles only to find Summer had convinced the jurors to vote for the other side. Juror eighteen had had the right idea about bolting. She should’ve never come back to talk to these people, no matter how alluring this one might be. She waved to the jurors and mumbled something about having to be in another court and walked toward the door. She was in the well of the courtroom when she heard a voice call her name.
“Owen, sorry, Ms. Lassiter, may I speak with you for a moment?”
Owen turned slowly, hoping she wouldn’t regret the interaction. “Yes?”
“I know you were disappointed in the verdict. Losing isn’t your thing, is it?”
Owen glanced around, but there was no one else in the room. Still, she lowered her voice. “I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation.”
“He didn’t know the marijuana was there.”
Summer’s voice was firm, like a teacher telling a student their answer was dead wrong. Owen wasn’t sure what reaction Summer was trying to provoke, but she was steaming in response. “You have no way of knowing that for sure. You don’t know what the defendant really knew, only the self-serving statements he made in court. Your job was to stick to the facts, and the facts are he had marijuana in his possession. Any other jury would’ve taken less than an hour to come to the conclusion he’d violated the law, and I’m mystified why you could not do the same.”
Summer nodded in response, but more like a patronizing pat on the head than an acknowledgment that she was correct, and Owen instantly regretted the outburst. Everything about this day, from losing the case to losing her temper, was completely out of character for her. Her best bet was to call it a day. So why was she reluctant to walk away from Summer even when she was unable to get past her anger?