Alan Jacobson - False accusations

“Thank you.”

Warwick strolled back to the defense table, sat down next to Harding, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She sat there, numb, staring straight ahead. Judging by her lack of response, it appeared as if she had not heard a word either attorney had said this morning.

As the judge provided his long-winded instructions to the jury, Denton ground his molars so hard he gave himself a splitting headache. He knew what was coming, and he knew there was no way to avoid it-the extensive speech by Calvino defining and discussing reasonable doubt. The only positive aspect of his instructions concerned his comments on circumstantial evidence-which were strong and, Denton was sure, confusing to the jury.

Calvino explained, in an informal manner, that circumstantial evidence was real evidence: “It is to be considered and given weight just as one would give weight to direct evidence. However, the circumstantial evidence must not only point in the direction of guilt, it must also exclude to a moral certainty every reasonable hypothesis except guilt.” He plowed forward, despite the confused looks of some of the people on the panel. “Further,” he said, “every inference you make from the circumstantial evidence needs to arise from facts that were proven beyond a reasonable doubt. Otherwise, the circumstantial evidence could not be considered as evidence of guilt…”

After the judge concluded his thirty-minute explanation, the jury was dismissed to its room to begin deliberations. Hellman, who had arrived with Madison and Leeza just prior to the dosing statements, stood up and straightened his tie. “Now, we wait,” he said.

“How long do you think it’ll be?” Leeza asked.

Hellman cocked his head to one side. “No way to tell. If they’re absolutely convinced of her guilt, they’ll be backout here in half an hour. If they have issues of conflict, say, if one juror doesn’t think the evidence is conclusive enough, it could be days or weeks before they reach a verdict. I’ve given up trying to read juries. It’s not only inaccurate a good portion of the time, it’s stressful as hell.”

“Well, I’ve blocked off the morning from my schedule. God knows I’m not exactly busy these days,” Madison said, shaking his head.

“Things will pick up, Phil. It’s just a matter of time. People will forget. The other docs will realize they have no one who can do these surgeries as well as you can. They’ll start sending cases over again.”

“I can just hear it every time I go to testify as an expert witness. ‘Doctor, isn’t it true that you were once arrested for murder?’ It’ll be objected to, but I’m sure it’ll make a hit with the jury…and dredge everything up again. Would you want to hire me as your expert if you knew that question was going to be asked?”

“Why don’t we go grab some coffee,” Hellman suggested, realizing that this was not going to be a simple issue of reassurance. Leeza urged Madison to go, promising that she’d call him should the jury return while they were away.

They walked out of the courthouse to a Java City cafe a couple of blocks away. As they walked, Madison took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air that had a brisk, moist chill to it.

“Hopefully, today is the start of something new,” Hellman said.

“How did your trial go?”

“Jury’s still out. Deliberations will go on for days, I’m sure. It wasn’t as strong a defense as I’d like to have had, especially with the guy facing twenty-five to life. But you take what you have to work with. Regardless, life goes on. For me, at least.”

Madison gave him a look. “Sorry-just a bit of defense humor.”

They ordered decaf lattes and sat at a comer table with a view of the street and sidewalk.

“So is that it? Life goes on? Is that how I’m supposed to think?”

Hellman shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt. This past year hasn’t been a dream, Phil. As much as you’d like to wake up from it all, you have to accept that it’s happened and you have to deal with it. Your life will be changed forever.”

“Just move on, that’s it.”

“That’s it. There’s not much else you can do. Just be glad that it turned out this way. You could just as easily have been sitting in court right now instead of Harding waiting for the jury to decide your fate.”

Madison sat there, shaking his head. “I can’t describe what this past year’s been like, Jeffrey. I’ve been to hell and back. I guess I should feel fortunate, but all I feel is numb…emotionally spent. I’ve been on a rollercoaster for ten months. I’ve had feelings I’ve never had in my life. I’ve done things I’ve never done, been places I’ve never been.”

Hellman chuckled, tried to lighten the mood. “You can say that again.”

“All my life, I’ve always been liked. Now, people would just as soon spit in my face as shake my hand.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean to say that I’ve never had conflict in my life-you know I have. But conflict is very different from persistent harassment by a psychotic nut. You never know what she’s going to do next. Where she’s going to show up, what rumors she’s going to spread. Whether your family is safe when they walk out the door…” He shook his head slowly, as if he were reliving a nightmare. “I didn’t know where it would lead, Jeffrey, when it would stop. My kids, I was worried about my kids…”

“I know, I was there, remember?”

“It just kept building, threatened to consume me. When Leeza left me, everything just…fell apart. I couldn’t deal with it anymore.”

“In a few days, maybe a week, heck, maybe today, it’ll all be over.”

Madison took a deep breath, gulped a mouthful of coffee. “And if she’s acquitted? What then?”

“First of all, they’ll convict. I really believe that. We gave Denton a good case. He had a lot to work with and he did a great job.”

“I thought you’d given up trying to guess what juries-”

“That was the attorney side of me talking. Speaking as a friend, my gut tells me she’s dead meat.” Hellman placed a hand on Madison’s shoulder. “On the off chance that she’s acquitted, I’ll get a restraining order. I’ll make sure they keep her away from you. We’ll do everything within the law to keep you insulated from that nut.” His eyes searched Madison’s face. “But all this is just meaningless debate. She’s going to be convicted.”

They finished their lattes, then parted company. Madison stopped by the courthouse to check in with Leeza and learned that the jury had came out to have part of Ronald Norling’s testimony read back. They also wanted to hear part of Warwick’s cross-examination of Stuart Saperstein. Denton explained to Madison that it was impossible to predict what they were thinking, but he did think it was good that they wanted to hear Norling’s testimony again. He was an important link between the establishment of motive and the verbal projection of her intentions.

With Madison due at his office and Leeza leaving to pick up Elliott and Jonah, Denton offered to call him when the jury had reached its verdict. As Madison left the courthouse, he saw the demonstrators carrying signs demanding justice against Harding. He buried his face in the collar of his cashmere overcoat and steered clear of them. While he was no longer the object of their animosity, he did not want to invite recognition or, what’s worse, conflict.

Chandler rolled over in bed and fumbled for the phone in the dark. He knocked it off the hook, reached down, and fished along the carpet for the handset. As he found it and pulled it up to his ear, he glanced at the clock. It was 11:45.

“Hello?”