“I don’t know. The doctor was mighty good to my wife. Done more for her than anyone else around here.”
The DA was on his feet. “Your Honor, the State requests that juror number 17 be removed. Clearly, he can’t serve.”
I hated to let him go. “Mr. Wagoner. If I instruct you to listen to the evidence presented in this case and base your verdict solely on the evidence presented in court—because that’s what the law requires—are you saying you absolutely would not be able to follow the instructions of the court?”
He grimaced, clearly distressed. “I just don’t know.”
Reeves was already moving my way. “Request to approach the bench, Your Honor.”
I waved the lawyers forward. Reeves and Lindquist duked it out with Meyers, in whispers, while the court reporter hunched beside them, taking down every word.
At their insistence, we had to drag number 17 to the bench for further questioning. By the time we were done, Mr. Wagoner was so confused he could barely recall his own name.
I didn’t excuse him at that point. Figured if I let Wagoner get away, there would be a run for the door, and we’d lose the entire panel.
As the man returned to his seat, I gave the courtroom a tight smile. “Let’s continue, y’all. Refreshing your recollection! The question before you is: Does anyone on this panel know Dr. Gaines personally?”
The hands shot up this time. Twice as many waved in the air. Four dozen, maybe. Almost half of the room.
For the first time, I experienced a panic of self-doubt. Maybe I’d made a mistake. I should have let another judge handle it, let the case go to Montgomery or Birmingham, like the DA had suggested. Keeping it in Bullock County would come at a price.
And that price would be paid by Dr. Bria Gaines.
CHAPTER
55
We broke for lunch shortly after twelve o’clock. Barely three hours into jury selection, and I was already mortally exhausted.
The panelists were dropping like flies. All kinds—Black, white, old, young, male, female. They were snatching at any pretext to be excused from serving on that jury.
Most folks fell into that category: people intent on escape. But I’d picked up on a handful that leaned to the other extreme. Citizens who desperately, fervently wanted to be on the jury. Were overly eager to serve. They had an axe to grind. It was clear to me that they’d already made up their minds, before a shred of evidence had been presented in court. They were determined to snare a seat in the jury box.
I wanted those people gone. They had no business taking part in the case. I couldn’t entrust them with any power over a jury verdict.
It was a relief to see the clock tick past twelve. I declared a recess, sent them all away for an hour. Hopefully, they’d be able to get some lunch and be back on time. We didn’t have a wealthof dining options in Union Springs, and the streets of town were teeming with people.
I’d anticipated that. Thought ahead and brought my own lunch. I had tossed a couple of hard-boiled eggs into a Rubbermaid container, with an apple and a hunk of cheese. Put that in a grocery bag with two cans of Diet Coke. I was really looking forward to popping a silver can.
I’d barely had time to pull the makeshift meal from the mini fridge I kept in the corner of my office when the door opened. A full camera crew marched into chambers, led by my sister Nellie.
Nellie greeted me with a breezy “Hey, Mary.”
“Nellie!” My voice was sharp. “What are you doing back here?”
The smile dropped right off her face. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re doing the photo shoot.”
“What photo shoot?”
She scuttled around my desk, like she wanted us to speak privately, without being overheard. “The one we’ve talked about for the last six months. You’ve got to have a TV ad. You know your opponent will. I heard he’s already buying up time slots during the evening news hour.”
It came to me, then: my campaign. Nellie was right, we’d discussed campaign materials. Just conversation, thus far, about TV, direct mailings, some billboards on the highway. Yard signs. We’d need film to get them made. A photographer, a crew.But today?
“Your timing is way off, Nellie. We’re picking the jury for the Gaines trial.”
Nellie grabbed my robe from the coatrack, shook it out. “Actually, the timing is fortuitous. Couldn’t be better. Kenny and his crew, they’re freelance. They’re at the courthouse today to get trial footage to sell. So they have time to work you in, right now.”
I let her help me into the robe and zip it up. She dabbed at my forehead with a tissue.
