It was a strange feeling to browse in the department store for an outfit for Johnny to wear to court. I kept feeling like I was picking out a suit for a son on a special occasion, not a client in a murder trial.
I knew how I wanted him to look. Upstanding, neat, young.
The money for the court suits, he would need several, was out of my own pocket. But I had no choice.
...........................................................Preparing
I tried to prepare him, best I could. Johnny sat across from me at the metal table, head down, eyes down. He's lost weight, and he was skinny to begin with.
"The media, they're pretty interested in this case," I said. I wanted to tilt his chin up, force him to look at me. He shrugged.
"Listen, I'm telling you this because every day of this trial you will need to go from here to the courthouse. You're going to have to go right through them,"
He looked up and I noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the very noticeable scar. And he looked so young, so defenseless.
"They're ruthless. They're going to shove microphones at you and snap your picture and shout questions. Just ignore them or say, 'no comment,' o.k.?" He nodded that this was o.k.
"I've thought long and hard about having you take the stand," I said, cautiously observing him. No reaction.
"I've decided that you should," Despite the fact that they could slam him on cross examination, I could fix it on redirect. And he would be very sympathetic to the jury.
.............................................................Thoughts
The night before the trial my hotel room was a land mine, filled with self doubt and no sleep. I had that anxious excited feeling I remembered from grammer school, the way I felt before the first day of school.
I basically knew what I was going to say in the opening statement but I was thinking of something. This case was officially "The State of Oklahoma vs. John Cade" but I made a conscious decision to refer to him as Johnny. This was a very subtle psychological ploy. Johnny was the familiar form of John. Johnny was someone's child, someone's best buddy. They could easily see a "John" as a killer, but if I continuously refer to him as Johnny they will feel a bit of that familiarity that the nickname implies.
...............................................................First Day
The phone rang. I groped for it.
"This is your wake up call," the impersonal voice informed me. I bolted awake. This was it. First day. Charge time.
The media, like some demented vicious snarling machine, was gearing up. I saw the forest of microphones on long slender stalks, the press passes, the notebooks, reporters on payphones to editors. The photographers, the circle flash of their cameras raised high. How would Johnny react, walking through this tangled snarl every day?
At the police station Johnny looked tragic in the suit I'd bought for him.
"Here," I said, handing him a black plastic comb. He combed his hair quick.
"Alright, today is the opening statements in the morning, then a recess, then some witnesses, but you won't take the stand today. You're like the star witness,"
He bit his lip and looked so worried, like he was about to cry.
"When do we go?" he said, and his voice was quiet but steady.
"When the guards come and get you,"
He looked down, his eyes darting from one side of the room to the other. He looked like something was on his mind.
"I don't, I mean, do I have to go to the court in handcuffs?"
I suspected he would have to wear ankle chains as well as handcuffs but he seemed upset about this prospect.
"Probably. If you do it's just until you get into the courtroom, then they'll remove them," He nodded, not looking at me again.
...........................................................Opening Statements
When the guards came in and chained and handcuffed him he carefully showed no emotion, his face expressionless.
"It's the big day, huh?" A friendlier guard said to Johnny. He swallowed hard and nodded.
The media were like a swarm of ants, crawling all over the courthouse. As we headed to the courtroom they descended on him. I'd warned him but he still looked shocked, blinking from the flashes in his eyes, trying not to get poked in the eye with one of those long microphones.
In the courtroom they lead Johnny to the defense table and uncuffed him. He rubbed his wrists and looked around, wide dark eyes taking it all in.
The jury was lead in and they all stared at Johnny as they went by. He slouched, looked down. I nudged him and he sat up straighter.
I felt the tension building through the rising and being seated, the tedious procedures, and then it was time. I rose to give the jury my opening statement.
"A young man was killed late one night in a park. The prosecution is going to tell you this. They are going to tell you that my client, Johnny Cade, killed him with a switchblade. They are going to show you pictures of the corpse, a dead 18 year old boy who had his whole life ahead of him and they will say, "look what Johnny did," He did. That's not what this trial is about, but the prosecution will try to make you think that it is. Johnny killed Robert Sheldon and no one is saying he didn't."
"No, this trial is about why Johnny did that, reacted that way. Reacted. This is very important. You will see that Johnny didn't act, he reacted. He did not plan to kill Robert, he was put in a situation where he felt he had no other choice."
I sat, feeling shaky, queasy. Johnny gave me a little smile. It was my turn to nod at him. Then I sat back to listen to the prosecution give their opening statement.
The prosecutor rose and I stared at his gray hair, the way his stomach pushed at his dress shirt. I noticed how he had arranged his smiley face into an expression of seriousness.
"John Cade's lawyer will try to convince you that he had no choice. The facts of this case will show that John Cade had carried a six inch switchblade with him. He chose to carry that weapon. They will say he had no choice, but ladies and gentlemen, there is always a choice. He chose to carry that swithblade and he chose to use it."
"Now what choice does Bob Sheldon have? Bob Sheldon, 18 years old, a senior in high school, preparing to go to college in the fall, what choice does he have? I'll tell you. None. John Cade made sure of that, chose for him, chose death."
"He looks young, he looks innocent, and when he is on the stand he will sound vulnerable and filled with remorse. Do not be fooled. The defense will tell you he has been abused and neglected by his parents. Lots of teenagers in this city have been abused and neglected by their parents but they do not kill people with switchblades."
