Untitled (31 page)

  The only good news he had was that they had found a link between Mbutu and Anthony Collier. They'd found a witness who was going to testify that he'd met Collier at a recruitment rally for the Brotherhood.

  Marshall walked down the hallway and caught sight of the newest members of the jury pool being shuttled in. He glanced at them and walked on. It was never a good idea to engage them in any way before you saw them on voir dire. Suddenly, he stopped. He turned and looked at them again. Shock spun inside him, soon replaced by anger. There were about twenty people walking in, and about fifteen of them were black.

  "Sonofabitch," Marshall whispered to himself. He rushed into the courtroom, where he found his team waiting. Rashad and his people were not there, and now he knew why. Marshall waved Ryder and the others into the hall just as the last of the new jury pool went into a door.

  "This Kelly woman pulled one on us," said Marshall. "I just saw the new jury pool. They're almost all black."

  "Impossible," said Ryder. "I read all the demos, the federal juries in this area are predominantly white."

  "I know what I saw," said Marshall. "With so many blacks on the panel, surely a number of them will get in. We don't have enough challenges to get rid of them all, and even if we did, it's illegal to use them to exclude people on the basis of race."

  "Jesus," said Roberta. "Do you think they could fix something like that?"

  "You could if you bought off the clerk," said Walter. "Or if you just knew it was coming."

  Marshall took a moment to think. Suddenly, he was back in the case and Chemin was forced into the bottom of his thoughts. Black jurors tended to be more liberal, especially if the defendant was black and he'd killed a man who was reviled in the black community. That made what he just saw very dangerous to his case. Many criminal cases are won during jury selection, well before one piece of evidence was entered.

  Now letting the Chandler lady on the jury made sense. Kelly had set a trap. They gave Marshall a black juror so the defense could pack the jury with others who might not be as objective. They knew Langworthy well. The judge would think the government was trying to exclude black jurors, and he'd put them on despite objections.

  "However Kelly knew, she knew," said Marshall. "We have to find a way to get out of this."

  "Well, we can't object to the number of black people," said Ryder. "The judge would laugh at us."

  "Not to mention the way it would look in the press," said Roberta.

  "You know, just because they're black doesn't mean they'll be against us," said Ryder. "There are all kinds of black people."

  "True," said Marshall. "But I'm black, and I know my people. We can't count on theoretical notions of humanity. The reality is black jurors tend to be biased in favor of the defense, especially in a case like this. We are more likely to believe in conspiracies, and more likely to give a defendant the benefit of the doubt."

  "Reasonable doubt," added Walter ominously.

  Marshall thought for a moment. This problem was practically joyous compared to things he could be thinking about. "I have an idea," said Marshall. "I'll talk with the judge."

  "But you just said that won't work," said Walter.

  "Don't worry," said Marshall. "I'm not going to actually say anything to him."

  Marshall went into the judge's chambers and asked to speak with Langworthy. While he waited, Marshall wandered into the hallway by the room where the new jury pool was kept. This was risky, but if he knew Langworthy, he'd take the bait. Marshall waited until the judge ambled into the hallway. Suddenly, Marshall assumed a nervous look and walked quickly back to Langworthy.

  "Your Honor," said Marshall. "I was wondering if you thought our selection would be over today?"

  Langworthy looked at Marshall suspiciously. "I don't know," said the judge.

  "Well, the government feels that we can end it today," said Marshall. He added a smile that was ever so slightly insincere.

  "Why are you back here? You could have asked this in court."

  "I—just wanted to see where your head was, Your Honor." He tried to sound as insincere as he could.

  "My head is in the case, and you can find that out on the record. You may leave now."

  Marshall thanked the judge and walked off. He waited by the chambers door to see if Langworthy would bite. Langworthy stood in the hallway for a second, thinking, then he walked over to the jury room and looked in. A troubled look washed over him. Marshall left as the judge turned and walked back his way.

  Marshall went back into court to find Rashad, Leslie Reed, and April Kelly entering the courtroom. Marshall didn't think Rashad was the type to pull a stunt like stacking a jury pool. If Kelly was behind it, then she was worth every cent they paid her.

  "What did you do?" asked Ryder.

  "I rolled the dice," said Marshall. "If it works, we'll all be leaving soon. If not, get ready for hell."

  Kelly looked happy as she sat behind Rashad and Leslie Reed. Soon, Mbutu was brought in.

  Langworthy walked in and took the bench. He had an upset look on his face.

  "Thank you all for coming," said Langworthy. "But there will be no session this morning."

  Rashad and his people expressed shock. Kelly almost jumped out of her seat. She whispered frantically to Rashad.

  Marshall saw his cue. He jumped up. "We have to finish today," said Marshall. "Our schedule is tight."

  "I agree," said Rashad. "We would like to proceed."

  "No," said Langworthy. "I don't feel it's in the best interest of this case. We are having trouble with the jury pool today. It will be discarded, and we'll resume this afternoon."

  "I object, Your Honor," said Marshall.

  "So do we," added Rashad. Kelly's face was red with frustration.

  "This hearing is adjourned," said Langworthy. "And I'll see counsel in my chambers."

  Langworthy walked out of the courtroom. Marshall and Rashad followed. Marshall heard Kelly curse behind him. In chambers, Langworthy reiterated his position.

  "Well, can we know the nature of the problem?" asked Rashad.

  "Yes," said Marshall. "I'd like to know too."

  "I am not going to accuse anyone of anything at this point," said Langworthy. "But something is not right, and I will not jeopardize the objectivity of this case. I'll see you both this afternoon."

  Marshall walked out of the judge's chambers elated. He watched as Rashad gave the bad news to Kelly.

  "How did you do that?" asked Walter.

  "I made Langworthy suspicious," said Marshall. "Just enough to get him to look at that stacked jury pool. I didn't show any anger about it, so he assumed that I was okay with it. This made him even more suspicious."

  "I get it," said Roberta. "Why wouldn't a prosecutor be upset about a stacked jury? Because maybe he did it himself for some reason."

  "Langworthy doesn't like us government types. So I knew he'd kick us out along with that bad pool."

  "Great stuff," said Ryder. He sounded like a cheerleader. "So now what?"

  "Now we come back this afternoon and finish selecting a fair jury."

  Marshall and Rashad went back to it later that day, playing the chess match that is voir dire. At the end of the long day, they had a full jury and six alternates. The jury that would decide the fate of Mbutu was composed of seven men and five women, three of whom were black.

  Marshall was happy. Kelly was not. She'd been outclassed and was pissed off about it. But it was far from over. Kelly would continue to try to manipulate the jury throughout the trial. It was a fact of life in the modern practice of law. A jury consultant stayed for the entire trial, watching the jurors react to everything from evidence to the color of the lawyers' suits and reporting back. It was not uncommon for jurors to be dismissed during trial and alternates picked to replace them.

  Marshall accepted congratulations from his team as he walked back to his office. He was happy, but with each step he took, Jessica's murder came back to him. After a while, he was so upset that he ducked out of work early and went home.

  He rolled along the Lodge Freeway watching cars zip by him. He glanced at his speedometer and noticed he was only doing about fifty. He guessed that he was stalling, hoping that going slowly would postpone the inevitable.

  Once he got home, Marshall had a drink, something that was rare for him so early in the day. Danny had promised him that he'd get Chemin to come to the house and talk. He didn't know how Danny would do that, but he didn't care. He had to see her. He had to know the truth.

  But what if she admitted it? he thought. What then? Would he turn her in, put the woman he loved in a cage for life? He didn't think he could do it, but he didn't see how he couldn't make her pay for what she had done.

  The alcohol had made him light-headed, and soon he slipped into dark sleep. His mind was tortured with images of death and violence. He was awakened by the door opening. He sat up to see Chemin rushing in, looking upset. She saw him in the den getting up. She stopped in her tracks and turned to Danny.

  "You goddamned liar! He's not hurt."

  "Not on the outside," said Danny. "We have to talk."

  "I'm leaving," said Chemin. "You two can play your game with someone else's life."

  "Chemin, wait," said Marshall.

  Chemin moved to walk away, but Danny cut her off.

  "You'd better move, or I'll whip your ass," said Chemin. "I'm not afraid of you. I don't care how many defenseless men you beat. You will not hold me hostage."

  "Then that's an ass whuppin' I'll have to take," said Danny. " 'Cause you ain't leaving."

  "There won't be any fighting," said Marshall. "Chemin, Danny had to bring you here. I need to talk to you."

  "About what? Did you do something else stupid?"

  Marshall ignored the sting of her words. "You leave me, you don't call, and you ask why? How am I supposed to know if you're okay?"

  "I'm fine, now can I go?"

  "No," said Danny. "We have something to ask you."

  "You are walking on some thin fucking ice, Danny," said Chemin. "I don't take orders from you." To Marshall, she said, "Get on with it so I can leave."

  It was his wife in all her glory, he thought. He walked closer to her, and noticed for the first time that she was dressed in a business suit. Apparently, she'd gone back to work at Hallogent.

  "Okay, Chemin," said Marshall. "Something bad happened."

  "Marshall," Danny interrupted. "That's not what you want to say." To Chemin, he said, "The girl you caught him with is coming over here to talk this thing out. In fact, there she is." Danny pointed to a window.

  Marshall was shocked. Not just because Danny exposed his knowledge of the incident, but also because he saw what his friend was doing. Jessica's death hadn't been publicized, so Chemin couldn't know about it unless she was involved. Now Marshall feared what his wife would say. No matter what he felt was right, he didn't want it to be true. His heart began to race the way it did before a jury foreman read a verdict.

  Chemin didn't look toward the window. Instead, she focused on Marshall. "She's not coming here," she said angrily.

  Marshall's knees grew weak. He felt like running, like taking her and running away so that no one could hear what she'd just said. Danny just stared at Chemin, as if he'd expected the answer. He was a cop, Marshall thought absently. He was used to getting confessions.

  "Jesus," said Marshall. "Chemin—oh Jesus."

  "Why isn't she coming here?" asked Danny accusatorially.

  Chemin looked confused for a second. Her eyes went from Danny to Marshall, who looked like he wanted to cry.

  "That bitch isn't setting foot in my house," she said. "What kind of shit are you two up to?"

  "Jessica's dead," Marshall said. "She was murdered."

  Chemin stared at her husband expressionless for a second. Danny just looked at her with his mean, accusing cop look.

  Chemin looked genuinely surprised for a moment. "What am I supposed to say about that?" asked Chemin. "Am I supposed to feel sorry for her ass? Well, guess what? I don't."

  "Where were you two nights ago?" asked Marshall.

  Chemin's eyes sprang to life. Her face lifted with the sudden realization of what the two men meant by having her here.

  "You think—damn both of you," said Chemin.

  "Then how do you know that girl couldn't come here

tonight?" asked Danny. "Why didn't you even look to see if she was coming up the walk?"

  "Because I'm pissed off," said Chemin. "You invite that woman to my house and expect me to be happy about it?"

  "Why did you burn those clothes today?" asked Marshall.

  Chemin took on a shocked expression. "Are you spying on me, Marshall?"

  "No, this is my house too," said Marshall.

  "But you weren't here. How did you—" Chemin stopped, suddenly afraid of something. She looked sad, like a child caught in the act. "I am not doing this with you two. Whatever sick notion you have in your heads, you keep them there. I'm leaving." She walked to the door, pushing Danny aside.

  Marshall ran and caught up to her outside the door. She turned and looked at him, and suddenly he knew what it meant to say someone had fire in their eyes. Chemin's eyes burned with emotion.

  "Don't go," Marshall said.

  "Marshall, what are you doing?" asked Chemin. "You fool around with some girl, then you spy on me and accuse me of killing her. This is beyond crazy."

  "Look, I was wrong. What I did was wrong, but now I'm worried about you."