Chapter 24 – First Impressions
Thursday afternoon June 5, 2008 – 1:15 PM
The aroma from a tray of sandwiches awaited the famished jurors as they entered the deliberation room with food on their minds. Each sandwich was stored in a carry-out paper bag which was marked with a juror’s seat number on it, and Dan, the wheelchair-bound juror in seat number 16, took the initiative of passing out the meals. One by one, the sub-shaped bags made their way around the room until all of the lunch orders had been delivered to the appropriate juror, and they proceeded to dig into their grub, lost in thought.
Newlan meagerly picked at his steak-and-cheese, but after a few feeble bites, he wrapped the sandwich back up and discretely placed it into the plastic grocery bag which currently contained his Rolling Stone magazines. Apparently however, he wasn’t discrete enough because, Yong, the pretty Korean juror with the Asian accent in seat number 3, happened to notice that he had hardly touched his lunch, and furthermore, she was concerned.
“No hungry?” she asked.
“Lost my appetite for some reason…and I figured no sense letting a perfectly good sandwich go to waste so I’m gonna bring it home for dinner,” explained a subdued Newlan. And for her part, the perceptive Yong, who had digested the fact that he was down-in-the-dumps as easily as she had digested her meal, attempted to snap him out of his doldrums with a pep-talk.
“You have to eat. We need our strength. You can let this bad stuff bother you,” she urged.
On the flipside, Ann W. White’s emotional testimony regarding finding Fred Miller dead in his car didn’t seem to hinder any of the other jurors’ appetites. But what the rest of them didn’t know was that Newlan was stilling reeling over the knowledge of just how close he had come to being dismissed from the jury, and his melancholy appeared to have gotten the better of him.
While the rest of the jurors quietly concentrated on their lunches, Newlan buried his head in a magazine, although he wasn’t getting much reading done. But regardless of his attention deficit issues, shortly after devouring their sandwiches, the jurors began chatting amicably about nothing in particular, and, not wanting to come across as anti-social, he looked up from his magazine and casually listened in on the scattered conversations.
Eventually Newlan and the youngster Mark, who was seated next to him in the deliberation room, began discussing the details of their jobs in the high tech field, and as it turned out, they had a mutual acquaintance; a former co-worker of Newlan’s who had left Tafts University a couple of years ago for greener pastures was now working at Mark’s company.
“What a small world it is sometimes,” exclaimed an eavesdropping Annie, the elderly juror in seat number 13. She was doing everything in her power to keep her mind off of the nicotine cravings that were threatening to overwhelm her…and although she was able to maintain her composure for the time being, she was still dying for a cigarette.
As luck would have it, just as Annie’s dilemma was about to reach its apex, Brandon came sauntering into the room with a toothbrush in hand, looking to use the facilities, and she perked right up at the sight of him.
“Can we go out?” asked Annie with a wrinkled pout outlining her face. And even though Brandon was in no mood to be leading an outdoor excursion, he dutifully replied; “Gimme a few minutes and I’ll see what I can do. Oh, and by the way, is anyone using the bathroom?”
In the end it was Billy who guided Annie, along with a handful of her colleagues, down to the restricted, rooftop level of the garage, on the fourth floor, where the jurors parked their cars.
One of Billy’s many job duties was to keep an eye on the jurors, and if any issues arose, he was to inform Judge Gershwin immediately. And so, in that regard, as he escorted the group back upstairs, he was focused on his responsibilities, while at the same time he thought to himself; “all in all, not a bad bunch of people once we got past the cell phone fiasco…and at least they seem to be getting along so far…the key operative being ‘so far’.”
“Be ready to go in ten minute,” announced Billy as he dropped the jurors off back at their deliberation room, and sure enough, like clockwork, within ten minutes, there they were, being marched back into the courtroom.
The afternoon session began with Ms. Ann W. White still on the witness stand, patiently waiting to be cross-examined by Defense Attorney R. J. Gleason. And like DA Lyons before him, Gleason possessed his own little quirks when it came to interrogating a witness, such as introducing himself to each and every one of them in a calm and pleasant tone.
“Good afternoon Ms. White. My name is R.J. Gleason and I represent Mr. Breslin.”
After a day or so, Newlan honed in on the fact that Gleason never referred to Breslin as the defendant during his introductions. And even though Gleason’s choice of introductions shouldn’t have been too surprising, since the word “defendant” had the potential to connote a subconscious negative impression, the amateur psychologist in Newlan found it interesting nonetheless.
“Smart move but also probably defense attorney 101 tactics,” thought Newlan as he settled in for Gleason’s cross. And as it turned out, he wasn’t the only juror who picked up on Gleason’s routine, albeit for entirely different reasons. After a few days of testimony, some of the jurors grew tired of the way in which he presented himself to each witness, with Jim going so far as threatening; “I swear, if Gleason introduces himself one more time, I think I’m gonna scream…we already know who he is for Christ’s sake.”
Newlan, on the other hand, countered that Gleason wasn’t introducing himself for the jurors benefit, and he considered it polite of him to put the witnesses at ease with a formal introduction.
But introductions or no introductions, Gleason was a wily trial lawyer, and he purposely began with a few harmless questions for Ms. White regarding the appropriate usage of the garage, which was situated next to the office building at 435 Commonwealth Ave in Newton, where Fred Miller was employed.
Gleason curiously wondered whether the garage was open to both customers and employees alike, and Ms. White responded by stating that there were no assigned parking spaces in the garage and that anyone could park there. In fact, she stated that there were usually a few early morning customers parked in the garage just about every day of the week, visiting one of the many businesses in the area.
Gleason then changed direction on a dime and asked; “Ms. White, based on your testimony this morning, it appears that you stopped working at the Barron Insurance Agency shortly after the murder of Fred Miller…so would it be fair to say that you left the company because of the murder?”
“Well, I was looking for a new job closer to home at the time anyway, but I started having nightmares after the murder, so I went to see a psychiatrist and he strongly recommended that I changed jobs. So yes, I guess it would be fair to say that the murder was one of the reasons I left Barron,” agreed White who seemed to have regained her composure after her breakdown earlier in the day.
Gleason then understatedly asked; “Ms. White, after you observed Mr. Miller’s body, you say you slumped up against the side of his car, is that correct?”
“Yes, I was very upset,” curtly replied White. She had apparently become instantly suspicious as a result of Gleason’s current line of questioning and it showed in the tone of her voice.
“Very understandable,” retorted Gleason in a solemn voice as he subtly added, “Ms. White do you remember whether your hands touched the car?”
“My hands? I don’t understand,” answered White as a puzzled look formed on her face.
“You stated that you leaned against Mr. Miller’s car for support because you thought you were going to faint. When you did so, do you recall whether you braced yourself with your hands?” clarified Gleason while at the same time simulating a stance he supposed White may have assumed. He was hoping that this more specific question, along with his rudimentary pantomime, would get the res
ponse he was looking for, and his efforts were duly rewarded.
“Oh yes, I believe that my left hand was pressed up against the top of the front windshield and my right hand was resting on the roof of the car,” explained White.
“Do you remember whether you were wearing gloves?” added Gleason.
“No I wasn’t. Since Melissa and I were already in the office, and I figured that we were just going down to the garage for a minute or so, I didn’t bother putting on my gloves,” replied White.
“I see,” murmured Gleason, and then he politely asked for a time-out.
“Would you excuse me for a second your honor?” requested Gleason, and Judge Gershwin just as politely replied, “of course.”
“This is going well. Interesting that Ms. White’s palms were all over Miller’s car and yet the crime scene personnel only found one unidentified fingerprint smear on the entire windshield,” pondered Gleason as he jotted down a few notes regarding White’s testimony so that he wouldn’t forget to ask the detectives about it later.
Then without missing a beat, Gleason shifted gears again, and out of the blue he asked; “Ms. White, what exactly did you mean when you stated that Fred liked to have a good time?”
“Objection,” boomed out DA Lyons, highlighted by her ever-present scowl which was well pronounced and frozen to her face at the moment.
“Sustained,” replied Judge Gershwin without giving the matter a second thought.
“Your honor may we approach?” courteously inquired Gleason.
“Yes, of course,” once again replied Judge Gershwin, but this time she seemed to be wearing a frown on her face which our ever-observant correspondent Frank Newlan picked up on.
“I thought she was supposed to be impartial,” muttered Newlan to himself, but loud enough for some of his fellow jurors to overhear.
Newlan’s nemesis Jane, who was seated in front of him and slightly to his right in seat number 15, immediately turned around and shot him a dirty look as if to say, “be quiet.”
Similarly, Newlan’s self-proclaimed “Ice Princess”, Natalie, who by virtue of being seated directly to his right was able to detect any comment he made no matter how softly murmured, also delivered him a look-to-kill as well.
Conversely however, Newlan ignored the both of them and he grumpily thought to himself, “Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.”
But despite his cavalier attitude, Newlan was sensing what he perceived to be preferential treatment by Judge Gershwin towards DA Lyons, and he didn’t care for it. Accordingly, his frustrations would build up over the course of the trial as he observed that most of Lyons’ objections were sustained, while on the other hand, most of Gleason’s objections were overruled.
“Fine, I’m sure that between the judge and the DA they know the rules of law a heck of a lot better than I do…but human nature being what it is they better not blame me if I end up developing a soft spot for Gleason and Breslin. I’ll do my best to remain impartial, but if it’s not a fair fight then they better not bitch if I decide to vote not guilty,” stubbornly evinced Newlan as his affinity for the underdog kicked in; an affinity, we might add, that was not shared by the majority of his fellow jurors.
And while Newlan silently ranted, the attorneys became engaged in a heated but whispered discussion at the sidebar area of the bench, with Judge Gershwin serving as the referee. However, after enduring repeatedly failed attempts at mediation, attempts which were highlighted by the increasingly flared tempers of both lawyers, the wise judge abruptly called for “a quick ten minute recess”.
“All rise,” exclaimed Billy…and out the door went the jurors. And although the debate in the courtroom may have continued to rage on without them, back in the deliberation room they too were buzzing away non-stop. However, in their case, the uproar pertained to the unexpected respite that they had just received courtesy of the feuding attorneys.
“We were only out there for fifteen minutes and already we get another break,” exclaimed Peter, the absentminded juror in seat number 12 who had the unfortunate cell phone incident earlier in the day.
The ten minute intermission stretched out to almost a half hour, and when the jurors finally did return to the courtroom, Judge Gershwin had an explanation waiting in the ready for them.
“Ladies and gentlemen, at the end of every trial I make it a point to have an exit interview with the jurors, and they always ask, ‘why do you have so many sidebars? It seems as if you’re telling secrets.’ Well I can assure that we are not telling secrets. As I mentioned previously, I am as unfamiliar with this case as you are, so from time to time the attorneys will be briefing me on specific details which they want me to be aware of. At times we may also be discussing legal procedures, or the admissibility of certain witness statements. In conclusion however, I want to make it clear that you should not be offended in any way by our sidebar discussions. In fact, feel free to use the time to get up and stretch your legs.”
“I’m not buying it. They were arguing,” muttered Newlan followed by the obligatory dirty looks simultaneously coming from Jane and Natalie’s direction.
In any event, no sooner had Judge Gershwin dispensed of the requisite juror propaganda when Gleason jumped back up to his feet and resumed his interrogation of Ms. Ann W. White as if the sidebar had never happened.
“Now Ms. White before lunch you stated that Fred Miller liked to have a good time, is that correct?”
“Yes, but I didn’t mean it in a negative way. Fred was just a happy-go-lucky person who liked to party and enjoy life to the fullest,” stuttered White who appeared to be having a difficult time clarifying what she meant by her earlier comments.
“Ms. White you also stated that you suspected Fred Miller might have been passed out in his car, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” replied a now ashen-faced White.
“And are we to understand that you didn’t mean this statement in a negative way either?” continued Gleason.
“I absolutely meant it in a positive way,” contended White, but at this point she sounded rather unconvincing.
“So you think that being passed out in a car at 8 o’clock in the morning when you should be at work attending a sales meeting is somehow a positive attribute?” retaliated Gleason in a suddenly forceful tone.
“Well I meant it in a positive way,” insisted White as she shook her head in disbelief.
“And what exactly did you think it was that would have caused Mr. Miller to be passed out in his car at 8 o’clock in the morning?” demanded Gleason, ignoring the obvious fact that the ill-fated victim was already deceased by that time.
“Objection,” wailed DA Lyons.
“Sustained,” replied Judge Gershwin, once again almost immediately.
“No further questions,” announced Gleason, and as he retreated back to the defense table, he was the one who was now in possession of the smiling face, while at the DA’s table, although it didn’t seem humanly possible to Newlan, DA Lyons’ scowl was more pronounced than ever.
“I get it,” deduced Newlan, “even though the objection was sustained, Gleason still made his point…and by the end of the trial we aren’t gonna remember which comments were admissible and which ones weren’t.”
And as if to prove his own point, Newlan wrote into his note pad:
The defense succeeded in its attempt to infer that Ms. White’s reference to Fred Miller being passed out in his car had something to do with him being hung over.
“Sounds like this Miller cat liked to party…not that there’s anything wrong with it. Been there, done that,” mumbled Newlan while at the same time he added more fodder to his notes.
This could help to prove that someone else, maybe a drug dealer, maybe some other jealous husband or boyfriend, who knows, might have been out to get Miller as well.
Meanwhile, the astute Judge Gershwin appeared to be reading Newlan’
s mind, and she was already one step ahead of him as she turned towards the jurors with another clarification at the ready.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I remind you that when an objection is sustained, you are to disregard the question and any answer that may have been given. And with that, let’s take another short break, and when we come back we’ll continue with testimony until around 4:30.”
Gleason had no reason not expect Ms. Ann W. White to be anything other than a routine witness, but when she unexpectedly speculated that Fred Miller might be passed out in his car, he pounced on the opportunity to make Miller look bad, which was going to be at the heart of his strategy anyway, and poor Ms. White turned out to be an unwitting accomplice in his efforts.
When Gleason returned to the defense table he leaned over towards Breslin and whispered, “That was too easy. Ms. White served us up a free meal on a silver platter…and from there it was like taking candy from a baby.”
And furthermore, if R. J. Gleason had only known how his unspoken insinuations had worked their magic on the impressionable Frank Newlan, he would have been even happier…than he already was.