John Nance - 16 Souls

Sitting at one corner of the huge table was the subject of it all: Captain Marty Mitchell. His feelings ranged from puzzlement, to engagement, to animated participation as they meticulously reviewed plans to deal with and counter anything the district attorney and his team could possibly throw at them.

“I can see why you call this a war room,” Marty said quietly sometime around the 9th hour.

At 6 pm, her review agenda complete, Judith called a halt and scheduled everyone to be back in the room at 7 am sharp.

“Court begins at nine, and we must be prepared and ready to go.”

As the others filed out, Marty got to his feet and began pacing.

“Wow. The complexity of this is mind-boggling.”

Judith looked up and smiled as she scooped papers into a briefcase.

“Well, looking at the switches and dials and screens and things in a Boeing cockpit is equally mind boggling. In our case, in law, being exhaustively prepared is virtually everything. Same as planning logistics in a war.”

“You use the doctrine of Sun Tzu? You know, the ‘ Art of War .’”

“Not quite that colorfully, Marty. I’ve read the book, of course. Do the opposite of what your opponent expects. Some of those principles help in a legal battle in court, but the best method in litigation is to understand everything the opposition can throw at you so well, that you’re never surprised, and be able to argue the law and the facts better than anyone else there… which means research, research, and more research. And…” she added, raising an index finger as she snapped the cover of the leather briefcase closed, “…on that note, the one thing I did not talk about today is that legal brief I commissioned on the role of captain’s authority in law and society.”

“Can we file it with the judge?”

“Probably not, but… we’ll get it in somehow.”

Judith winced internally, the words feeling like a premeditated lie. Just as Jenks had said, it was probably useless in Gonzalez’ court. But telling Marty that would only serve to depress him, and a depressed client could be dangerous to his own case. That thought, in turn, started gnawing at her. How much in the dark was she going to keep Marty about the almost certain outcome of this trial? She could see he was relatively relaxed and reasonably confident and that was exactly where he needed to be. But the crash at the other end of the verdict would be magnified, and she was not, in her heart, capable of dishonesty beyond a point.

“Judith, one other question.”

“Sure.”

“You’ve said all along this case was legally wrong. Can’t the judge see that? Can’t we ask for dismissal on those grounds?”

She sighed. “We already have, Marty. Two weeks back we moved for dismissal on the law and as I fully expected, he denied it. But it’s what we do to lay the foundation for an appeal.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoed, with a forced smile and as much sincerity as she could muster. “We both need to relax and get a good night’s sleep. I’d like to buy you a really expensive dinner and go over a few things.”

Meaning, she thought to herself, I need to keep him focused and ready for court, and I’m worried about letting him out of my sight. Maybe I should just sleep with him!

“Dinner sounds good,” he replied. “You seem preoccupied, Judith?”

If you only knew, she thought, carefully hiding any indication that she’d just scandalized herself with that private joke. Using sex to control one’s client was not exactly ethical.

“My favorite steakhouse is three blocks away. Meet you in the hotel lobby in twenty minutes, and we can walk there.”

He caught her arm gently as they were stepping out of the war room.

“Judith, all this…” he gestured to the room and the day, “…what are my chances?”

“Of getting an acquittal?” she asked, instantly on guard.

“Of actually being sent to prison. Honest assessment.”

She sighed and pursed her lips, meeting his gaze. “You want me to quantify a percentage of probability?”

He half chuckled. “I guess that’s what I mean. I just don’t speak lawyer.”

She nodded. “Okay. I don’t gamble on my cases… in other words I don’t have a bookie. But if I did, and he forced me to lay odds, I’d say they’re two to one against you ending up for an extended period in jail or a prison, because even if we lose the trial, I think the case for a successful appeal is very strong. And, I never said this, okay? But even if we lost an appeal, I’d badger the governor mercilessly until he pardoned you, or exiled me”

“Two to one?” he said, looking shocked. “Not for acquittal but against extensive jail time?”

“Roughly, “ she added.

“So… if I understand you correctly as to what you’re not saying… the odds are against an acquittal?”

Judith sighed, feeling trapped by her own hatred of lawyers telling lies. “Marty, my law partners think an acquittal is unlikely. I do not agree, but you’re right, the odds are no better than fifty-fifty. But, two to one odds against, as I said, any extensive time in a lockup.”

“Oh, Lord,” he said, his face betraying the loss of confidence like a falling barometer.

She took his arm and turned him back toward her. “But, Marty, how you conduct yourself as a calm and competent captain in that courtroom is going to make all the difference.”

“I understand that,” he replied, a sad but deeply thoughtful look on his face as he sighed and chewed his lip. “Thank you for leveling with me, Judith. I imagine that was a tough decision… especially considering how volatile I’ve been.”

“I’ll admit,” she said, “…I’ve been a bit frightened of how you’ll handle the courtroom environment.”

“Two to one. That’s just short of terrifying! Frankly, I’m beginning to wish the air national guard guys had turned you down.”

“Marty, look at me!” Judith commanded. “You deserve the opportunity to set the record straight, and that would never have happened if you’d died up there. I’m absolutely…”

Marty held up his hand to stop her.

“It’s okay, Judith. The die is cast. I’m here and I promised you I’d stick it out, and I will, on the outside chance…”

“Those odds aren’t apocalyptic, Marty!”

“I know… I get that. I… can still sleep with those odds.”

She held his gaze for a few more beats, her expression slowly dissolving into a relieved smile.

“The real question is,” Judith began, “…can you drink with those odds? Right now, I mean?”

“Hell, yes,” he said.

Present Day — September 7 — Day Two of the trial

Sleep had come rapidly, and escaped just as suddenly, leaving Marty in the plush hotel bed with his mind racing. The repetitious dream sequence of the headlights popping on in front of him in the blizzard just before touchdown was actually becoming a bore. It never changed, and there was never an answer.

Marty checked his watch, dismayed to see it was only two-fifteen. He knew his wakeful profile all too well: there would be no way of returning to REM sleep before daybreak.

Show time in the lobby is 6:30 am he reminded himself. With two very long and very tedious days of jury selection already behind him, the real trial would get underway at 8 am, and the first agony would be listening to that scumbag Richardson as he oiled his way around the subject of why Marty Mitchell was a mad dog killer who needed to be locked away from society.

I must have wronged him in another life, Marty had joked. What other possible motive did Richardson have?