Perri O’Shaughnessy - Breach Of Promise

Cliff: Now, Sonny, was that right? I mean, who wants to get mixed up with the law? Who needs that involvement?

Sonny: Nobody. That’s for damn sure.

Cliff: You’ll forgive me for asking, but, who makes the financial decisions in your family?

Sonny: Who do you think?

Cliff: You, of course. And why is that?

Sonny: Any big decisions, I make.

Cliff: You remind me so much of Mike Markov. Obviously, you don’t look alike. He’s kind of a ruin, now. But once he was a strong man like you, Sonny. A boxer. He’s an old-fashioned guy. He makes the big decisions, because he knows he’s the right man for the job. Do you remember in court when he promised to take care of Lindy Markov? He said he would. And nothing in his past suggests otherwise. I mean, they live in a huge mansion that he’s paid for for all these years.

Diane: With profits from the company they both own.

Cliff: Maybe he knows something we don’t. Maybe he knows how she fritters money away on clothes and new cars. Maybe she gambles. Maybe he has very good reasons for wanting to keep control of his business, because he’s terrified she’ll run it straight into the ground!

Mrs. Lim: I must protest. These are speculations about issues that were never even mentioned in court. Maybe she is a financial wizard! We don’t know.

Sonny: Enough. I want to vote.

Diane: Wait a minute. I have this terrible feeling about you, Sonny.

Sonny: Thanks.

Diane: You’re going to change your vote just to get this over with, aren’t you?

Sonny: (doesn’t answer)

Diane: Remember in the judge’s instructions? You are not supposed to decide a certain way just because other jurors favor that decision and certainly not because this jerk is trying to pull the wool over your eyes.

Sonny: Nobody is pulling any wool anywhere.

Courtney: You’ve stuck with Lindy all along. You know she deserves some of that money.

Sonny: Let’s vote.

But the bailiff knocks. The lunch is out in the hall. Does anyone want a quick trip outside before they settle down to eat? Kris and Cliff grab their cigarettes and go, followed by a bailiff. Others hit the bathroom.

After they all come back, Cliff gets his special dish, marked vegetarian, and asks for opinions on the food. Suddenly, he makes gagging sounds.

Kevin: Slow down, there, pal. You choking? Anybody know the Heimlich maneuver?

Courtney: I do!

Bob: Sonny, help me get him standing.

Courtney tries.

Courtney: It’s not helping! I don’t think he’s choking on anything.

Kevin: Maybe he’s having a heart attack!

(Cliff’s gasping and knocking things off the table.)

Cliff: (He’s talking so softly, in the commotion no one seems to hear him.) My jacket! Get my jacket! Let go of me!

Mrs. Lim: Sonny, try to sit him up. Don’t let him fall on the floor like that.

Courtney: Do you think he wants his jacket? It’s probably in the anteroom.

Bob: That can’t be right, or he’s out of his mind. It must be eighty degrees in here.

Mrs. Lim: Deputy Kimura! Get in here!

Cliff: (This is unintelligible.) The epi kit!

Kevin: He’s trying to say something.

Mrs. Lim: What is it, Cliff? What do you want us to do?

Alternate juror Damien Peck must be trying to run for help. He runs into the bailiff.

Deputy Kimura: Stay right here, please. Don’t leave, anyone.

Shouting for an ambulance, he leaves.

Diane: He can’t breathe! Here, you guys. Get him on the table. He needs CPR.

She works on him until Deputy Kimura returns and takes over. There’s very little going on except the sound of the deputy giving CPR. A woman is crying.

Mrs. Lim: Deputy Kimura, they’re here. We should get out of the way.

Frank: Look at him. He’s really swelling up. Looks just like a swarm of bees went after him.

Courtney: We can’t do anything more. Come on, Diane, move over.

Technician: His heart… Get these people out of here.

Footsteps as they scurry away.

Sonny: (leaving) Fight till the last gasp, dude.

Court personnel are ushering people out of the room so that emergency people can come in.

›Click‹

Thursday after lunch, the court called. Nina’s presence was requested at two.

“Do they have a question for the judge? Do they want some of the testimony reread?”

“No. I believe the judge needs to seat an alternate,” said the clerk.

“What happened?”

“Just come on down, Nina. I believe the judge would prefer to explain.”

Ringing Winston and Genevieve in their hotel rooms, where they actually were for once, Nina drove over to the courthouse with minutes to spare. She linked up with her team outside, and as a group they pushed past the curious reporters stationed outside the doors.

“What’s going on?” Winston demanded, but Nina just shrugged. He looked like hell, just like the rest of them. Jeff Riesner caught up with them in the hall. His sallow face and the bags under his eyes showed he wasn’t sleeping either.

“A verdict?”

“We’ll know in a minute.”

“Be seated,” announced the clerk.

They sat while the jury filed in. Nina searched their faces. But… where was Clifford Wright? There were only thirteen. Judging from their troubled expressions, something major had happened.

Looking grave, Milne took the bench. “Sorry to call you all out in such haste. There has been an unfortunate event in connection with the deliberations. Apparently Mr. Wright, one of our jurors, has had an allergic reaction to something he ate. He has had to be admitted to Boulder Hospital.

“It appears unlikely that he will be released in time to resume his work on the jury. Therefore, I must seat alternate juror number thirteen. At this time, we ask if there is any objection to the seating of the alternate. Order! Order! You people in the back, be quiet or you’ll be outside.”

“Just a moment, Your Honor,” Nina said. She tore open her juror file and Winston looked over her shoulder. Genevieve was looking at her own notes.

“Patti Zobel,” Genevieve whispered. “Divorced, in her forties, works for a resort time-share company. Her husband was having an affair. Fantastic. Don’t look happy. The jury won’t like it.”

“We’re sorry to hear this, Your Honor,” Nina said. “We have no objection to the substitution.”

Riesner looked stunned. He conferred with Rebecca in urgent whispers. Finally he said, “We would request a recess of a day to monitor Mr. Wright’s progress, Your Honor. Perhaps it’s just an upset stomach, and he can resume tomorrow. Let’s not be too hasty here.”

The phone rang at Deputy Kimura’s desk. Still standing and watching the crowd sternly, he picked up the receiver and listened. In a moment he made a sign to the clerk and began writing down something. The clerk made a sign to Milne, who said, “We will take a five minute recess. The jury will remain seated.” He left the bench in a flurry of robes. The deputy and his clerk followed him.

The legal affairs reporter from the San Francisco Chronicle, who had arrived late in the trial, came up to Nina right away and asked, “Who’s the alternate?” Nina gave him the name but little else. Patti Zobel, a plain woman in a running suit with frizzy hair, sitting in her spot with the other jurors, was trying to look calm but was obviously very excited. She had spent weeks as an understudy and had just been given a leading role.

Five minutes passed. Nina glanced at Patti Zobel. Patti Zobel looked back at her. Did she have a hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth? Could she be trying to say, I’m on your side? Nina looked away, afraid one of the other jurors would notice, intoxicated with hope.