From the Eyes of a Juror

  …

  The crowded courtroom caused Newlan to come down with a disorienting anxiety attack which affected his equilibrium, but luckily for him, Brandon happened to be strategically stationed just outside the jury box, pointing the jurors towards their seats like an usher at a movie theater.

  Slowly but surely, the jurors tentatively filed into the box, and they remained standing just as Brandon had instructed them to do; all the jurors that is, except of course for the handicapped juror, who by virtue of being in seat number 16 was the last person to enter the seating area. He would also be the first person to leave the jury box whenever the jurors exited the courtroom, which, as they would soon find out, would be quite often.

  As Newlan stood there like a statue in front of his seat, anxiously awaiting the commencement of the bleak festivities, he detected an almost unbearable tension hovering through the air; a tension that was so thick you could practically cut it with the proverbial knife. And in response to the disquieting circumstances he found himself trapped in, he purposely repositioned his torso so that he was poised at an even sharper angle facing towards the witness stand. He was dead set on making sure that no one in the audience ever got a good look at him, and in turn, he wanted no part of knowing what was going on in the gallery.

  “Out of sight, out of mind” was one of the many mottos that worked wonders on Newlan’s mentally impaired psyche when it came to the process of filtering out bad memories, and he was hoping that this amnesiac axiom would also hold true for his courtroom experience as well. He deemed himself extremely fortunate to have been assigned a seat at the end of the aisle, as far away from the audience as possible, and he also found it comforting that his fellow jurors were serving as an unintentional buffer which obscured the line of vision between him and the gallery section of the courtroom.

  But Newlan’s quirks aside, with the jurors now in place, a hush came over the assembled gathering as Brandon began to recite the official courtroom introduction, which he had alluded to earlier when he stopped by the deliberation room to chat with the jurors.

  “Here ye, here ye, here ye…all persons or parties having business before the honorable Judge Mindy Gershwin in the 4th criminal session of the Middlesex Superior Court, please draw near, state your name, and ye shall be heard,” bellowed Brandon followed by Judge Gershwin’s gentler voice proclaiming, “Court is in session…you may be seated.”

  This same routine would repeat itself every morning throughout the course of the trial, but for the jurors, the drama of Brandon’s Old English styled narration never ceased to get old.

  However, the analytical Newlan was bothered by the fact that he couldn’t quite make out what Brandon was saying in the first few syllables of his spiel. To his ears, it sounded as if the brawny court officer was spitting out the words, “hey, hey, hey” which, in his mind, seemed a bit odd. As such, Newlan made it a point to listen intently to Brandon’s homily at the start of each session, in a futile attempt at interpreting his words. But no matter how hard he tried, he was still having trouble deciphering the cadence of Brandon’s staccato phrasing.

  Newlan gave up on his translational pursuit after just few days, but his inquisitiveness was killing him and at the first chance he got, he tracked Brandon down, and out of curiosity he asked, “What the hell are you saying in your speech every morning?”

  And the attention-loving Brandon was only too happy to provide Newlan with the details of his oration, which, as he explained it, dated back to the days of the revolution.

  “I understand we had some commuting issues this morning, which I was well aware of, having gotten caught up in the traffic jam along with the rest of you,” admitted Judge Gershwin as Newlan gave her a knowing nod.

  “I see that one of the jurors is nodding in agreement,” observed the ever-pleasant judge; although her acknowledgement only served to further alarm the paranoid Newlan.

  “Uh oh…I think she noticed me…I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad,” silently ruminated Newlan as he turned his head slightly in an effort to avoid direct eye-contact with the probing judge.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, good morning,” continued Judge Gershwin with a motherly smile while at the same time she deftly ignored the stupefied look that had incongruously taken shape upon Newlan’s brow.

  “Have you discussed the trial with anyone…have you been exposed to any media coverage of the trial…have you researched the trial on the internet? If so please raise your hand,” requested Judge Gershwin, and when no one in the jury box so much as moved a muscle, she added, “let the record show that none of the jurors have replied in the affirmative.”

  This line of questioning, pretty much verbatim, would also be repeated every morning throughout the course of the trial, and as the case progressed, Judge Gershwin’s daily inquisition would cast a pall over the guilty conscience of many a juror; particularly the internet savvy Newlan.

  “At this time dear jurors, these two wonderful attorneys, Ms. Lyons and Mr. Gleason will each make an opening statement of about forty five minutes, after which we will take a half hour break, and from there we will proceed directly on to witness testimony. And so without further adieu, Ms. Lyons you may begin.”

  On Judge Gershwin’s signal, Assistant District Attorney, Elaina Lyons, coolly approached the jurors and stood at the podium which had been moved sideways so that it was facing the jury box (once the opening statements had been completed, the podium would be moved back into its regular position, facing the witness stand), and right out of the gate, she was off and running like a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, throughout the course of this trial you will be presented with overwhelming evidence that THIS MAN, Mr. John Breslin paid his co-conspirator, Mr. Samuel Fox, ten thousand dollars to AMBUSH and EXECUTE a defenseless victim, Mr. Fred Miller.”

  As DA Lyons shouted the words “THIS MAN” and “AMBUSH “and “EXECUTE”, she scowled in disgust for added emphasis, and she fervently pointed toward the defendant John Breslin who in turn responded with an animated facial expression of his own, as if to say that he was taken aback and insulted by her accusations.

  “Nothing like getting right to the point,” declared Newlan who suddenly felt as if he were trapped in some sort of surreal dream. It seems that even though he was beginning to come to grips with the fact that he had been appointed to serve as a juror on a high-profile murder trial, at times he was still having trouble grasping the reality of the situation, and as he attentively took in DA Lyons’ powerful opening statement, he was overrun by a strange feeling that he was watching a dramatic TV show unfolding before his very eyes.

  “All we need is some soda and chips,” wistfully thought Newlan, and by this point in the proceedings he was ardently wishing he had possession of the imaginary remote control so that he could abruptly change the channel for good.

  But unfortunately for Newlan, the courtroom drama that he was so keenly observing was not a bad dream, and it was not a TV show, and he had no such power to tune out the theatrical production, which was being acted out for his benefit…and so by dint of his designated task, he was compelled to listen as DA Lyons went on to methodically elucidate as to how all of the evidence implicating Breslin fit together like the jagged pieces of a labyrinthine puzzle.

  “Jealousy pure and simple, that was the motive behind Mr. Breslin’s actions,” emphatically stated Lyons.

  “Mr. Breslin couldn’t accept the fact that his marriage was over, and that his wife, Tracy was seeing her high school sweetheart, Fred Miller, and as a result, he obsessively stalked the both of them, desperately trying to dig up whatever dirt he could on Fred Miller. And when that didn’t work to his satisfaction, he hired a private detective to tirelessly follow them around.”

  “Evidence will show that Mr. Breslin also obtain information pertaining to Fred Miller over the internet. Evidence will show without a dou
bt how a trail of money in the form of the Breslin’s IRS refund check made its way into the hands of Sammy Fox.”

  “Initially Mr. Breslin may have just wanted Sammy Fox to beat up Fred Miller, to send him a message, but over time he came to the deadly conclusion that Fred Miller needed to be eliminated all together. Over time, John Breslin’s simmering animosity toward Fred Miller boiled over with rage. As his marriage began to crumble, his resentment was focused squarely on Fred Miller, even though his estranged wife Tracy told him repeatedly that her divorce request had nothing to do with Fred. In fact, Tracy and Fred hadn’t even been intimate with each other subsequent to the time-period in which they resumed dating again in the blossoming spring months of 2005, because she felt that it would be best for them to wait until after the divorce was finalized.”

  Lyons spouted on nonstop for roughly twenty minutes, at which point she was forced to pause ever so briefly, just to catch her breath. But after a quick sip of water she began her assault again in earnest.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, evidence will show that Mr. Breslin contacted Sammy Fox repeatedly in the fall of 2005 right on through January of 2006. Close to 100 phone calls, back and forth between the two men. You will see evidence of cell phone records…pay phone records…work phone records…records from the cell phone belonging to one of Mr. Breslin’s best friends.”

  “And finally, through some dumb luck and some good old-fashioned police work, you will see a receipt for a pre-paid calling card which was retrieved from a trash pull outside the defendant’s residence…a calling card, which records will show was used to communicate with Sammy Fox and no one else.”

  “The evidence will show that this barrage of phone calls mysteriously ceased, promptly upon the successfully executed murder of Fred Miller, and that no further contact was ever again made between John Breslin and Sammy Fox.”

  “And if that’s not enough, you will meet Mr. Breslin’s co-worker at Tex-Ray Defense Systems in Andover Massachusetts, Ms. Nancy O’Brien.”

  “Ms. O’Brien will provide us with the critical missing link in the union that formed between John Breslin and Sammy Fox. She was the tie that bound them. She was the straw that stirred the drink. You see, Nancy O’Brien once dated Sammy Fox, and then one day, one fateful day, she introduced him to John Breslin. It seems that Mr. Fox, who has been in and out of prison on a weapons possession conviction, as well as a murder charge, was a person of great interest to John Breslin. Sammy Fox was a name that John Breslin kept on file in his mind for future reference. And when push came to shove, with his marriage on the rocks, John Breslin correctly, but tragically, assumed that Sammy Fox was a person who just might come in very handy when it came to taking care of his little problem.”

  As she spoke, Lyons mockingly exaggerated the words “his little problem” by going with a raised voice and a disgusted facial expression, and as an additional visual ploy, she simultaneously raised her arms and curled her fingers into the sign of quote symbols.

  Meanwhile, Newlan ears immediately perked up when he caught wind of Lyons’ statement regarding the government contractor, Tex-Ray Defense Systems in Andover Massachusetts. As it turns out, his nephew Joey Marino was employed by the same company as John Breslin, and his office was located at the very same regional headquarters where Breslin earned his keep. As it turns out, Newlan saw this fortuitous coincidence as a new lease on life. As it turns out, Newlan saw the crevice of an escape hatch forming in his mind, and he pounced on the opportunity.

  “This is my ticket off the case. I just tell the judge my situation…she can’t keep me on the trial when there’s a connection between me and Breslin by only two degrees of separation,” surmised a gleeful Newlan.

  “If this works out, I’m gonna take my sister and her son out to dinner at Morton’s Steakhouse for the juiciest filet mignon’s that money can buy,” pledged Newlan as a devious smile spread across his face.

  Newlan was so absolutely convinced that he was going to be unceremoniously bounced from the trial that he debated whether he should even bother paying attention to whatever else it was that DA Lyons had to say. But in the end he decided that he was enjoying the show too much to zone-out now.

  Tex-Ray Defense Systems was in the business of, for lack of better words, building weapons of mass destruction. Over the years, the company had procured numerous multi-billion dollar contracts with a handful of foreign countries such as Germany and Japan, as well as with the US, and the corporation’s mission statement wasn’t lost on Newlan.

  “Interesting how someone who works for a company that sells bombs to other countries is on trial for hiring a hit-man to kill his wife’s boyfriend. Sure they sell missile defense systems as well, but they’re basically in the business of aiding and abetting mass murder, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some of those weapons end up being used against US troops,” pondered Newlan who was at the same time both intrigued and saddened by his own analogy.

  And while Newlan may have been entertaining himself with his clever imagination, DA Lyons continued to expand upon the burgeoning relationship between the Tex-Ray co-workers, Nancy O’Brien and John Breslin, as well as her ex-boyfriend Sammy Fox.

  Lyons claimed that Breslin confided in O’Brien. She insisted that O’Brien’s testimony would play a vital role in the case. She assured the jurors that O’Brien would provide intimate details regarding the conspiracy that took place between Breslin and Fox.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, on the morning of January 13th, 2006 when Fred Miller arrived at work and parked his 1999 Nissan Maxima in his usual spot in the garage next to 435 Commonwealth Ave in Newton, he couldn’t have known that he was about to be SHOT…SHOT IN THE HEAD BY SAMMY THE FOX as he was so cunningly also known as by both his friends and enemies alike.”

  “Evidence will show that a red Ford Taurus associated with Sammy Fox was seen in the garage at the time of the murder…and evidence will show that Mr. Fox was motivated by nothing more than greed and money to commit this murder…and evidence will show that John Breslin was motivated by nothing more than JEALOUSY to hire Sammy Fox to commit this murder.”

  As Lyons weaved her way towards the climax of her summation, she got so worked up that it gave Newlan pause for concern, and he silently whispered; “if you ask me, she’s looking pretty exhausted up there on that grand stage. I got a bad feeling that the torrid pace of her presentation is gonna leave her physically drained…I’m telling you, she better pace herself before she ends up passing out.”

  Lyons may have indeed been running out of gas as the astute Newlan so accurately pointed out to himself, but nevertheless, she was willing to do whatever it took to get her point across, and with a precisely crafted game plan in mind, she finally wound down her award winning performance by tranquilly stating; “ladies and gentlemen of the jury, after listening to all of the testimony, and after reviewing all of the evidence, I will ask you to come to the only conclusion possible, and that is to convict Mr. John Breslin of conspiracy to commit murder, and of murder in the first degree. It is a task that cannot be taken lightly, and it is a burden that you as citizens of our great State have been chosen to bear. On behalf of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts I thank you for the sacrifice that you are making to serve on this jury, and I thank you for your time and your consideration.”

  With her speech completed, Lyons slowly walked back to the DA’s table, and practically collapsed into her seat. By all outwardly appearances, it seemed as if she truly had been sapped of every ounce of energy her soul could muster, and if the truth be told, she truly was teetering on the brink of exhaustion; she truly was totally withdrawn and utterly subdued, just like a Broadway actress who leaves everything she has out there on stage until she has nothing more left to give.

  The Hollywood comparison happened to be a simile that also cast itself upon Newlan’s wandering mind as well, while at the same time the remnants of DA Lyons’ soliloquy reverbera
ted in his head.

  “You really do need to be a bit of an actor to do this job,” Newlan mused as Defense Attorney R. J. Gleason made his way toward the podium to begin his opening statement.

  “Now I’m just gonna kick back and see what Gleason’s got…bring it on dude,” urged Newlan as he curled up in his comfortable swivel chair…and readied himself…for round number two.