James Bell - Deadlock

And every member of the jury seemed better dressed than Charlene.

But they were people. She reminded herself of the advice she’d given Sarah Mae’s mother. She was going to tell them the story as if she were talking to people in her living room.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Charlene said. Most of the jurors nodded at her.

“As you know, my name is Charlene Moore, and I represent Sarah Mae Sherman.”

Charlene turned to her client. “Sarah Mae, would you please stand?”

The girl, looking terrified, got to her feet. Her plain summer dress – pastel blue – was hanging on her like a tablecloth draped over a chair. She tried to look at the jurors, but her eyes kept glancing down toward the floor.

“Thank you, Sarah Mae,” Charlene said. Sarah Mae returned to her seat.

“Sarah Mae Sherman did not grow up in a nice part of town. Her mother, Aggie, has been raising Sarah Mae alone since her husband left the family ten years ago. Life has not been easy for them. Like many girls her age, Sarah Mae dreamed of one day moving to the big city, making her way in the world.”

Charlene saw in her mind’s eye the flash of a picture – herself, a little girl dreaming of a singing career.

“One day she met a boy and fell in love. He was older than she was, and he paid attention to her. Bought her things. Took her to the movies. Told her she was pretty. But when Sarah Mae told him she was pregnant, he told her she was a loser and she’d better get rid of it – that’s what he called the baby, it – and forget about ever seeing him again.”

Charlene paused, taking time to look at each of the jurors’ faces.

“Sarah Mae was scared, like any girl would be. She didn’t know where to go, who to turn to. She feared telling her own mama. But she did see a sign stapled to a telephone pole. ‘In trouble?’ the sign asked. ‘Find help you can trust.’ And it gave the name and phone number of a clinic run by the National Parental Planning Group right there in Dudley.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you will hear exactly how this clinic abused my client’s trust. You will hear how the law was willfully broken by the doctor, Michael Sager, who is sitting at the defense table.”

Charlene paused and turned toward the defense table, where Winsor sat next to Dr. Sager. Sager was in his late forties and dressed in an expensive gray suit. Apparently he didn’t feel he needed to hide the fact that he was a success.

“You will hear how the requirement that the patient be fully informed of the nature and risks of a medical procedure was ignored. You will hear what happened as a result.

“Five months after the abortion she knew little about, Sarah Mae Sherman learned exactly what she had been carrying inside her womb. She learned what her baby looked like, what its heartbeat sounded like, exactly what she had given up at the hands of those understanding people at the NPPG.

“And you will hear about the torment that Sarah Mae suffered as a result. About the nightmares that would not stop, about the night she couldn’t take it anymore, got a razor blade, and slit her wrists.”

Charlene had to pause a moment. She was feeling electric currents snapping through her.

“And then you will hear how the nightmares kept coming until Sarah Mae ran out to a bridge to throw herself off. But she was rescued just in time, by a minister. Why, you might wonder. You might also come to believe it is so she could be here to tell you the whole sordid story.”

Beau Winsor stood up. “Objection. Counsel is pushing the limits of acceptability here.”

“Sustained,” Judge Lewis said.

Charlene waited until Winsor sat down. He took his time doing it.

“When you have heard all of the testimony,” she said to the jury, “I will be asking you to deliver a verdict that will punish this clinic and the doctor involved so that other girls like Sarah Mae will not suffer at their hands, or the hands of those like them.”

She turned and walked back to counsel table. She noticed that Sarah Mae had tiny tears in the rims of her eyes.

Now it was Winsor’s turn. He was dressed to absolute perfection. His deep blue suit had fine, muted pinstripes. The effect was not “rich lawyer” but “dignified professional.”

Charlene felt an ice ball in her stomach. She thought, suddenly, that she was not in this man’s league. He had not lost a jury trial in twenty-five years.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Winsor said. His honeyed drawl was not overbearing. It seemed to reach out and embrace everyone in court.

“My name’s Beau Winsor, and I’m a lawyer. We’ve got to get that out of the way at the start. Folks don’t much like lawyers these days, and I understand that. There’s a lot of mischief lawyers do. I’ve done a lot of it myself. We all know about the lawsuit craze and all that. Abuse of the courts.”

Charlene wanted to stand up and object. This was not an opening statement. It was a subtle attempt to tar her as a lawyer bringing a baseless lawsuit. But then she thought, no, he was baiting her on purpose. If he could get her popping up to interrupt him before he even got started, the jury might think she was trying to obscure something.

“But not all lawyers are like that. I have every confidence that you will listen to the evidence as it is presented, and not to the fancy words of the lawyers. Make up your minds based on facts and law. Nothing else. You swore that when you took your seats, and I believe you’ll keep that oath.”

He turned and looked at Dr. Sager. “I want you to get to know this man who has been accused so terribly by opposing counsel. You will get to know him over the course of this trial. And it will be a far different picture from what you just heard.

“You will hear about a man who has ignored threats to his very life in order to bring healing and hope to scores of young women in terrible trouble. You will hear about his work in inner cities, his volunteer efforts, his absolutely pristine reputation.”

He turned back to the jury. “But most important, you will hear how Dr. Sager obeyed the law. And that is really all you will need to hear. Because if Dr. Sager obeyed the law, as the evidence will show, then there is no case. There is no case against the doctor, or the clinic, or anyone else. If you don’t agree with the law, you can change it. You can make it tougher or you can get rid of it altogether. But you don’t do that here, in a courtroom. You do that at the ballot box.

“The evidence will show that the law was followed by the clinic, by Dr. Sager. And we trust your judgment, ladies and gentlemen. Because being on the side of truth is the best defense we have.”

As Beau Winsor resumed his chair, Charlene’s mind sang. Here we go, Lord. Here we go, go, go.

Judge Lewis said, “Call your first witness, Ms. Moore.”

Charlene’s first witness was Pastor Ray Neven. He was forty-two and looked like a big kid. Longish brown hair curling at the shoulders, bright blue eyes, and a ready smile. No wonder kids like Sarah Mae warmed up to him. He seemed a little uncomfortable in his suit and tie, like a Tom Sawyer who wanted nothing more than to throw off such restraints and head back to the swimming hole.

“You are the pastor of a church in Dudley, is that correct?” Charlene asked after Neven was sworn.

“Yes, I am,” Neven said. “We’re an independent Bible church.”

“How long have you been the pastor there?”

“I started the church back in 1995.”

“And how many are in your congregation?”

“We’re running about a hundred-fifty now.”

Charlene stepped out from behind the podium. “Do you have a youth program at the church?”