Authors: Susan R. Sloan
The light of understanding came into his wife’s eyes. “Of course,” she breathed, oddly relieved. “What are you going to do
about it?”
“I think I have to tell the judge,” the history teacher said.
“Will they take you off the jury, if you do?”
Stuart thought about that for a moment. “It’s possible, I guess. Maybe even probable. But it doesn’t matter. I still have
to tell.”
“But is it right that someone can manipulate the system like this?”
“No, it isn’t right.”
“Then why should you pay? You’re an honest man, and you would have rendered a fair and impartial verdict.”
“I know,” Stuart said with a sigh. “But sometimes, that doesn’t matter.” There was no way to hide his disappointment from
his wife; she knew him far too well for that. He shrugged. “Either way,” he reasoned, “I guess my students are going to learn
an important lesson about how our legal system really works.”
At two o’clock, barely minutes after the dinner dishes had been cleared away, a similar envelope was delivered to John Quinn’s
Ballard home.
“What the hell?” he demanded, when he saw the contents.
“What’s the matter, dad?” his thirteen-year-old daughter asked. “What’s in there?”
“Nothing,” the contractor replied, quickly shoving the photographs under the bulk of the Sunday newspaper. “Just junk mail.”
“What is it?” his wife asked, as soon as the girl left the room.
Quinn pulled the photographs out and handed them to her. “They’re pretty awful,” he warned.
“Good gracious,” she said, wincing as she glanced through them. “These are sick. Why would anyone send them to you?”
“It must be about the trial,” he told her.
She took a second, longer look at the gruesome images. “You mean, those antiabortion people found out you’re on the Hill House
jury? But how could they? Information about jurors is supposed to be kept confidential, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said, “but it’s all I can think of.”
Fear crept into her eyes. “These people are really crazy, you know,” she said. “I’ve heard about some of the things they do
to get their point across. If they went to all the trouble of finding out who you are, and where you live—who knows what they’d
try to do to us? And who’s going to protect us?”
Quinn nodded. The same thought had occurred to him. Trial or no trial, his first responsibility was to take care of his family.
Karleen McKay was showing property. The client was a fresh-faced young couple from South Carolina. In the first five minutes
of meeting, Karleen learned that he was being transferred, and that she was pregnant, and that their marriage had almost ended
six months after it began.
“We just didn’t know each other very well,” the woman confided. “And we probably got married for all the wrong reasons. It
was just through the blessings of Jesus that we made it through the bad time.”
“How was that?” Karleen asked politely.
“I got pregnant,” the woman said. “As unbelievable as it seems, it was the answer to my prayers. But I must say, it’s an awesome
responsibility. Just thinking about bringing another life into this world scares me.”
“Yes, it can be a life-altering experience,” Karleen said.
“I didn’t know whether I was ready for children, but the
minute I found out I was pregnant, well, everything changed. Do you have children?”
“No, I don’t,” Karleen told her.
“Well, when you do, you’ll know what I mean. It’s like finding out what your real purpose is on earth.”
“I’m sure,” Karleen murmured.
“No, it’s true,” the woman insisted. “To tell you the truth, when my husband came home and told me we were being transferred
to Seattle, well, I didn’t want to come. I’d heard about that terrible bombing, and about how that nice naval lieutenant who’s
accused of doing it is probably going to be executed for it. And I told my husband, those must be godless people in Seattle.
We can’t take our unborn child there.”
“Oh, I don’t think people here are much different than people anywhere,” Karleen suggested.
“Well, that’s just what my minister back home told me,” the woman said. “That there were good people everywhere. It just takes
some of them longer to realize it. He said not to judge too harshly. He said God works in mysterious ways, and that before
everything was said and done, the jury on that trial would do the right thing. Wasn’t that wonderful of him to say that? Just
to cheer me up?”
“Oh yes,” Karleen assured her.
“I mean, everyone has a right to be born, don’t they?” she continued. “Life is God’s gift, and I think I know that as well
as anyone. I mean, how would you have felt if you had never been born?”
“I rather think I would never have known the difference,” Karleen replied.
“Oh no, I don’t believe that,” the woman exclaimed. “I believe our souls precede us into this world. I believe we would know
if someone sucked us out of our mother’s nurturing womb before we had a chance to know full life.”
“I think the next house on the list is going to be perfect for you,” Karleen said.
“Yes, of course,” the woman responded. “But I’m not giving up on you.”
“On me?” Karleen asked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m going to be praying,” the woman said fervently, “just as hard as I can, that you and the rest of your jury will
celebrate that young man’s bravery, not profane it.”
Tom Kirby had taken to stopping by Judith Purcell’s Beacon Hill home on Friday evening, and staying until Monday morning.
He came in grimy work clothes, purported to have become grimy from crawling around other people’s houses, and occasionally
from odd jobs he did for her neighbors. Judith happily laundered his clothes for him.
She cooked dinners for him on Fridays, nothing fancy, casseroles mostly. She was relieved to learn that he actually liked
macaroni and cheese. The rest of the time, they went out to restaurants, the three of them, and he paid. It was a small thing,
but it helped.
After the first weekend that Kirby had come and stayed, she had a long conversation with Alex. The twelve-year-old had been
surprisingly adult.
“Hey, mom, if this guy is someone you want to hang around with, I’m okay with it,” the boy said. “I know how much you like
it when he’s here. I like him okay, too. He’s pretty neat.” Alex kicked his shoe at the floor. “Anyway, it’s kinda nice, having
another guy around the house, you know, someone to do guy things with. But if you just want me to get lost sometimes, I can
go hang with friends.”
She hugged him hard. “This is your home,” she said firmly. “You’re never in the way here, and no one wants you to get lost,
not for anything, ever. It’s just that I wouldn’t like it if you felt, you know, uncomfortable. And I’d want you to tell me
about it.”
Alex grinned. “Hey, I’m a big kid,” he said, hugging her back. “I know all about that stuff. You taught me, remember?”
“I’m not sure he’d ever admit it, but I think Alex really likes you,” she told Kirby on Sunday evening. “Of course, I’m not
exactly surprised. You’re so good with him.”
The three of them had spent the day at Seattle Center, and then stopped at Burger King for dinner. Now Alex was asleep in
the room down the hall, and she and Kirby were getting ready for bed.
“He’s a good kid,” Kirby said. “The kind I’d like to think I would have had, if I’d had a son. You’ve done a great job with
him.”
Judith sighed. “The way he hangs on your every word, I think he misses having a father.”
Kirby climbed into the four-poster and plumped up the pillows. “I’m not sure I can tell you what I think you want to hear,”
he said with a sigh.
“You’ve already told me,” she said. “No strings. I know that.”
“I’ve got too many issues of my own to deal with,” he said, “before I can take on anyone else’s. I’m not real reliable. I
don’t stay in one place longer than it takes to start feeling too comfortable, if you know what I mean. And I’m starting to
feel like I’ve already stayed here longer than I should.” It took him by surprise to realize he was actually telling her part
of the truth, but he didn’t think it would do any harm, and it might even help. “I tried to be up front with you about all
that.”
“Oh you were,” she said lightly, slipping into bed beside him. “But you know us women. We always think, with enough good home
cooking, we can change a man’s mind about anything.”
He pulled her against him. “I wish I had it all together, so I could be what you want,” he murmured into her hair. “I wish
I was as secure as you.”
She let out a laugh. “Me, secure? Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just the way you act, I guess,” he said. “You’re so confident and sure of yourself. You and your friend
both. I think you’re two of the most self-sufficient women I ever met.”
“You mean Dana?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Well, you’re right about her, but you’re way off about me,” Judith said with a little chuckle. “The last thing I am is self-sufficient.
You should know that by now. I’m a definite leaner. Always have been, probably always will be.”
“Really? You could’ve fooled me. Why do you think Dana is so much more secure than you?”
Judith shrugged. “I don’t know. She just always seems to have everything going right for her, you know what I mean? It’s been
that way as long as I’ve known her. It’s like she took control of her life the day she was born and never let go of it. She
knows exactly what she wants and exactly how to get it. I don’t know how, but she does it. Even if something goes wrong, she’s
always been able to get past it, and just keep on going.”
“I doubt anything serious has ever have gone wrong for her. She seems so… complete.”
“Well, she’s been my best friend since grade school,” Judith said with a yawn, “so I could tell you a thing or two. But of
course, I can’t.”
“Heavy private stuff, huh?” he asked, feeling the hair on the back of his neck begin to tingle.
“Oh yes,” Judith murmured, snuggling up against his chest. “Very heavy.”
A
t twenty minutes past nine on Tuesday morning, Robert Niera knocked lightly on Abraham Bendali’s door.
“Yes, Robert, come in,” the judge invited.
“I think we may have a little problem, Your Honor,” the bailiff said.
“What is it?” Bendali responded.
“A juror has just approached me with this,” he said, handing a manila envelope to the judge.
Bendali saw Stuart Dunn’s name written on the envelope. He opened it, and extracted the contents, spreading the photographs
out across his desk.
“Isn’t this something,” he murmured. He picked up the note that had accompanied the photographs, and the expression on his
face darkened. “Just one?” he asked his bailiff.
“Actually, five spoke to me,” Robert replied. “But I think more were contacted. Three of them got envelopes like this, two
said they had been approached by other people.”
The judge wagged his head back and forth. “Get opposing counsel in here,” he said.
“All right, Ms. McAuliffe, what do you know about this?” Bendali barked as soon as the prosecution and defense teams had assembled
in his chambers.
“Absolutely nothing, Your Honor,” Dana replied, scanning the photographs. “I assure you, I’ve never seen these before, I don’t
deal with people who promote this kind of politicking, and I’m as outraged about it as you are.”
Bendali fixed her with a stony stare and a raised eyebrow. “Are you certain?”
Not in the least intimidated, Dana glared right back at him. “Are you accusing me of jury tampering?” she asked.
“Should I be?”
“Hardly,” she said evenly. “Like any decent attorney, I like to win, and I’ll push the envelope as far as it can go in the
interests of my client. But I never break the rules. If you don’t know me well enough to know that, perhaps Mr. Ayres would
be good enough to vouch for my integrity.”
Brian nodded. “I can, and I do, Your Honor,” he said. “I’ve known and worked with Ms. McAuliffe for well over a decade.”
“Then it seems we have a leak proportionate to that of the
Titanic,”
Bendali declared. “What are we going to do about it?”