James Sheehan - The Law of Second Chances

Spencer’s closing was no surprise to Jack. He took the jurors back to the night of September 1, 1998: “A shot rang out. Three people ran to their windows and saw Benny Avrile standing over the fallen Carl Robertson.”

It was at this point that Spencer diverged from the anticipated script.

“They say that a good lawyer can get you off even if you are standing over the body,” he told the jurors. “That’s what the defendant is banking on. He hired the best. And now you have heard a tale-a tale that takes you away from what happened on September first and strings together fractured pieces of information and forms a conspiracy, all designed to make the defendant a free man. Don’t get sucked into this fantasy, ladies and gentlemen. Stick to the facts. Stick to what you know. If you do that, you will find the defendant guilty of this crime.”

It was Jack’s turn now. He stood in front of the jurors and didn’t say anything for about thirty seconds, then began in a calm and even tone. “You all promised at the beginning of this trial to do several things. You promised to keep an open mind until all the evidence was in. And you promised to follow the law, which means holding the state to its burden of proof. These are not arbitrary rules in a contest between two opposing parties. These are fundamental laws that come from our Constitution. We sometimes forget that part of the great American experiment was to protect the rights of the innocent at all costs. That is why a man is presumed innocent until he is found guilty in a court of law. It is here in this courtroom that truth is decided. Hype goes out the window. Blustering will not withstand vigorous cross-examination.

“So what has the evidence shown? It has shown that the defendant was at the scene. Period. It has shown that Carl Robertson was attempting to fundamentally change American life-to wean us off oil overnight. It has shown that Leonard Woods was his partner in that endeavor and that Mr. Robertson and Mr. Woods were killed nine hours apart. Mr. Paglia, Mr. Avrile’s former lawyer-who apparently learned about the plan while trying to defend his client-was killed execution-style with the same type of gun and bullets that killed Carl Robertson. These facts didn’t come from me, ladies and gentlemen. They came from that witness stand. The last witness you heard in this case was a twenty-year homicide detective who told you that Mr. Robertson’s murder, a bullet right between the eyes, was not done from close range because the bullet would have passed through the body. It had all the earmarks of a professional murder-the same as Sal Paglia’s.

“He also told you there was another suspect, a woman, who had an affair with Carl Robertson’s mistress and learned all about Mr. Robertson and his comings and goings. When the defendant was arrested, however, the investigation came to a screeching halt and the police stopped looking for this woman. She was never apprehended and, as you well know, she was forgotten. The prosecution never mentioned her.

“Mr. Taylor has asked you to ignore these facts and convict Mr. Avrile simply because he was there. You cannot do that and live up to the promises that you made.”

Spencer Taylor took advantage of the opportunity for rebuttal, but he didn’t say anything new. The judge then charged the jurors with the law they had to follow, and they retired to deliberate. As he watched the jury file out, Jack thought about Langford Middleton. The judge had kept control of the trial throughout. His rulings were dead-on. He had faced his demons and conquered them. Perhaps this would be the turning point for a man who still had the potential to be a great judge.

Luis was on the verge of losing it completely. He hugged his son before the guards took him away and almost broke down.

“You’re going to be a free man soon,” Luis told him.

“It doesn’t matter, Pop,” Benny replied. “What matters is that you were here for me all the way.” He looked at Jack, who was standing next to Luis. “And I got a better defense than I deserved.”

The jury was out for two hours. Both sides interpreted that as an optimistic sign. “Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict?” the judge asked when they had filed back into the courtroom.

“Yes, we have,” the foreperson, a middle-aged woman, answered.

“Is it unanimous?”

“Yes it is, your honor.”

The foreperson handed the verdict to the bailiff, who handed it to the judge, who read it and passed it over to the clerk to publish.

“The defendant will rise,” Langford Middleton bellowed.

Benny stood up. Jack stood with him.

“Madam Clerk, publish the verdict.”

The clerk stood up and read the verdict. “We the jury find the defendant, Benny Avrile, not guilty.”

Benny immediately turned to his father. The two men held each other and let the tears fall. Jack just watched. It was all the thanks he needed. He was certain now that Rico was back and would take Benny under his wing and teach him finally how to navigate the field of life-how to carve out his own turf and protect it. Benny was going to be fine.

Jack looked to the back of the courtroom where Henry was standing. Henry gave him a thumbs-up. Jack returned his gesture with a smile. They had made the decision to fight this fight together. Nothing more needed to be said.

On Wednesday night, Jack met Molly at an Italian restaurant in the West Village. He was a little late, as usual, and Molly was waiting for him outside in the cold. She was dressed warmly in a knit cap and Navy peacoat over jeans and black boots. She looked good. She always looked good.

“My client’s father, Luis, recommended this place,” he told her as the maitre d’ seated them. “He said the food is great.”

The restaurant itself was not much to look at. It was small-maybe twenty tables. The walls were pale yellow and hung with painted landscapes of the Italian countryside. The place was clean, and each table had a white linen tablecloth.

“It’s very quaint,” Molly commented as she took off her peacoat, revealing a black wool turtleneck that accentuated her fine figure. About ten minutes later, Luis and Benny walked in.

Luis saw Jack and Molly and headed toward their table with Benny in tow. Jack saw him coming and started to stand.

“Don’t get up,” Luis told him. “We’re not staying. I left my credit card here the other night and I just came in to pick it up. We’ve got reservations elsewhere.”

Jack stayed seated. “Luis Melendez, I want you to meet Molly Anderson.”

Luis took Molly’s hand graciously. “Pleased to meet you,” he said.

“And that’s his son Benny behind him.” Benny did not come forward. He stayed behind his father and nodded to Molly. She remained seated and nodded back.

As they headed for the exit, Benny turned and gave Jack a thumbs-up. He was not smiling. Molly saw it and understood.

She had come to this dinner to break off the relationship in a natural way so there would be no lingering suspicion. Her excuse was going to be the geographical distance between them. She had planned a short speech, and she had wanted to make it before they ordered dinner. Her plan had been foiled, however, and she no longer needed to give an explanation. It was simply time to go.

“Jack, I just remembered there’s something I have to do. I’m sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I’ve got to go.”

It was Jack’s turn to understand. “You’re not even going to give me the chance to lay it out for you?” he asked.

Molly stood up. “I’m not going to sit in this restaurant after what just happened.”

“You don’t need to worry about Benny coming back or anything like that. Luis and I made sure that wouldn’t happen before we set this up. They’re gone.”