JURY SELECTION
COURTROOM OF REBECCA STEIN
JUNE 15
Leaving the young woman seated in the jury box and returning to Claire's side at the desk, Jack spoke softly with her for a long moment. He was not alone in his deliberation, for Prescott was consulting with his associate, a young woman with beautiful Asian features. Claire handed him the finalized list as Judge Stein called for their dismissal applications. Without looking at one another, McCoy and Prescott approached the bench.
"The Prosecution objects to Jurors 1, 8, and 12, Your Honor."
It was abnormal that he would have found so many admissible, but the common prejudices he normally was forced to contend with in domestic homicide did not fit the individuals in the jury box. The only three of concern had sounded empathetic to the defense when being questioned. He had debated the thought of leaving 7, but Claire argued that a more rational member of the jury might be an asset when it came to deliberations. Juror 7 was a retired priest, and his very presence reminded Jack of the numerous mornings spent at mass with his mother. Rosary beads looped around her wrists, she would kneel in the pew and pray in silence, her hair carefully combed over to conceal the bruises on her neck.
Judge Stein accepted his application and looked over the top of her reading glasses. It was clear she did not mind the removal of the black-clad college student, her mouth moving in constant rhythm to a piece of gum. Prescott handed his similar list across the desk and added, in his rich baritone voice, "We object to jurors 1, 8, and 11, Your Honor."
"The Defense is attempting to remove the only married man in the box," Jack pointed out.
The judge shifted her gaze between them.
"My client deserves a fair trial, Your Honor, and it is of our opinion that Mr. Rutland is incapable of weighing the facts in evidence without prejudice."
"The Defense is allowed their objection, Mr. McCoy. Jurors 1, 8, 11, and 12 are dismissed. The others will convene here at nine am tomorrow morning." She brought down her gavel and the bailiffs showed out the jurors as Jack returned to the table. Claire was already gathering up their paperwork, and glanced up as the defendant paused in front of their desk. He had been released on bail, against the arguments of the court, and Jack had requested the police keep an eye on him. He did nothing more than look at them, then smiled faintly and moved on. It unnerved Claire much more than her companion, and she turned her head to watch as he left the courtroom, accompanied by his attorney.
"What witnesses are we going to put up first?" she asked, knowing he had spent much of the previous evening in deliberation over that very fact. He had remained at the office long after she had left, pacing back and forth and preparing his opening statements. Jack was eloquent in his speeches, passionate without becoming overly emotional; a restraint that made him appealing in a courtroom full of often bored jurors. It was this that had most impressed his law professors, more so than his in-depth knowledge of the law and its legal loopholes.
"Rodgers," he replied, "and then Curtis."
He snapped his case shut as she rose to her feet, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "The younger cop?" she asked. For the first time that day, she saw amusement enter his features. Opening the half-door between the attorney's desks and the observation room, Jack let her precede him. His brown eyes danced as he replied, "I took your advice and let the jury box fill up with women. Curtis is a little more appealing than Briscoe. Ordinarily I would prefer experience over youth, but in this case I think we might benefit from playing by the defense's rules."