Judge Stone took the bench, carrying a small wicker basket with her. She set it beside her laptop. “Be seated,” the judge said.
Bria sat down and put her hands in her lap.
Judge Stone turned to the fourteen people in the jury box. “Good morning! Hope y’all are rested. Are the accommodations okay? Everyone have enough hot water? Beds pretty comfortable?”
The jurors nodded—without enthusiasm. They weren’t being lodged in luxury accommodations.
The judge launched into a recitation of the jury’s obligations. Meyers bent his head and murmured to Bria. “Put your hands out where the jurors can see them.”
Her arm jerked, as if he’d startled her. She bent her head toward his to whisper, “What if they notice the red ink?”
“They have to see your hands. Don’t want to leave an impression that you’re hiding something.”
She didn’t counter his advice. Bria knew he was the expert about the courtroom. With a swift move, her hands appeared on the table, folded, as if in prayer.
Judge Stone wrapped up her jury instructions. Bria watched the judge rise from the bench with the wicker basket, descend the steps, and walk over to the jury box.
“I have a tradition in jury trials. As long as I’ve been on the bench, I like to have a hard candy while I’m listening to the court proceedings. I think it helps me pay attention. Stay focused. Plus, I like candy. Always have, since I was a kid. And if I get to have it, my jury does, too.”
Bria tried to smooth the fabric of her sleeve while the judge commanded the jury’s attention.
The judge held up a red-and-white-striped peppermint for the jurors to see. “They’re individually wrapped. We’re not sharinggerms, just sharing hard candies! Don’t worry about me doing anything that will make my jurors get sick. You’re important to me. No way I’d risk your health.”
That got a chuckle. The wicker basket was passed from hand to hand, and most of the jurors took a piece. When a heavyset woman passed it along, she said, “I’d love to eat the whole basket, Your Honor, but my doctor won’t let me.”
The judge slapped her forehead. “What am I thinking? Tomorrow I’ll bring in some sugar-free.”
More laughter. Bria could tell that the jury was relaxing. And she’d begun to ease up, too. Her hands weren’t so tense, the tendons were less prominent. Ben glanced over at Bria. When he caught her eye, she gave him a slight smile.
He scribbled a note on his yellow legal pad.Judge is warming them up. A laughing jury is good for the defense.
That made sense to Bria. Sending people to prison was a serious business. No joking around about that.
When Judge Stone returned to her seat, she turned to the prosecution table.
“Is the State ready to make an opening statement?”
Robert Reeves, the DA, stood and buttoned his jacket. “If it please the court.”
“Proceed.”
Reeves strutted over to the jury box. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is what the evidence will show.”
Bria felt Ben give her a gentle nudge, to remind her:Don’t flinch.
The DA made the very move that Benjamin had warned her to expect. Raising his voice, he said, “The State of Alabama will present evidence that the defendant, this woman—”
He jabbed his index finger in her direction. And repeatedhimself, lest there be doubt. “This woman,Bria Gaines, sitting in the courtroom today, committed the Class A felony of performing an abortion on Nova Jones in Bullock County, Alabama.”
Bria was prepared. She knew that the DA was likely to kick off his opening statement by pointing a literal finger of accusation at her. She lifted her chin, with a shade of defiance, and calmly returned the stare.
Reeves glanced down at a note card he held. “The State will prove that Nova Jones got pregnant in the back seat of a car when she had intercourse with an unknown teenage boy. She’ll testify that she joined a party of other kids—older kids—in Union Springs. Nova will testify that she doesn’t recall a lot of the details about that night. There was drinking involved, and marijuana—those gummies that look like candy. She didn’t know the boy, doesn’t remember who it was.”
The DA cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable. “And she’ll probably tell you she didn’t consent to sexual relations. Well, not that she recalls, anyway. That fact, though? It doesn’t matter, not in the case we’re bringing before you, ladies and gentlemen. In this case, her consent to relations, or lack of it, is irrelevant to the charge. Has no bearing on abortion law in Alabama.”
He paused, moving to the right and looking out at the roomful of spectators, like he was playing to the whole audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen, in the great State of Alabama, the law regarding abortion is clear. It’s simple. We don’t penalize the pregnant women who get an abortion. Our law focuses on the people who perform abortions, the ones who actually take the life of an innocent unborn child.”
