Mary Rosenblum: One Good Juror

Defective. For a moment, no one seemed to understand. Then the hiss of indrawn breath sounded from behind and all around Ephraim, as if the courtroom itself were sighing. And it hit him—they had won! Erin had won. At his table, Clark made a sudden sharp gesture, his face briefly darkening. Erin let her breath out in a tiny, nearly inaudible sigh as a buzz of conversation filled the back of the courtroom. From the bench, the judge continued, using her severe tone for silence.

“Causation and injury having been stipulated by the defendant, final judgment is hereby awarded in the amount of plaintiff’s stipulated and statutory damages for medical expenses, lost income, and pain and suffering. Proceedings are now concluded.”

Ephraim barely heard her. “You did it!” He flung his arms around Erin, grinning at her startled expression. “ You won this, because you made him listen beyond the mere words.” And he kissed her. Hard. For real.

For an instant, she stood stiffly in his embrace, then, suddenly, her posture softened, and she was kissing him back. That knot of sadness in his gut rose up inside Ephraim like a wave, bittersweet and piercing. And he hid it. It would be unfair to her to let her see it.

Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Ephraim released Erin, his face heating. “I’m sorry,” he said. She was smiling faintly, but it was a crooked, almost pained smile.

“I wanted to shake your hand.” Calendri was standing there, a slightly amused expression on his face. “I don’t care much about art, but I’ve worked hard all my life, and I make a good living. I’ve taken a lot of chances to get where I am.” He nodded. “If you’re willing to risk yourself for what you believe in, you don’t need somebody stacking the deck against you.” Calendri shrugged. “I had trouble following Dr. Singh’s testimony the first time, but I’ve worked with enough scientists to know that a lot of good ones can’t communicate worth a damn. So in the deliberation room I reviewed the court recordings a couple of times, and finally decided he knows his stuff better than those experts hired by NeuroTek.” He held out his hand. “Good luck. I hope you make out okay.”

“Thank you.” Ephraim returned the man’s firm grip.

Calendri nodded again, turned on his heel, and strode briskly up the aisle.

“Congratulations, Counselor.” Clark paused on his way out of the courtroom, briefcase under one arm, assistants lined up behind him, and his mouth twitching as he spoke. “Though I doubt that verdict will stand on appeal.”

Ephraim decided that comment had really been aimed at him, and it sounded none too confident. “Why not?” Ephraim met his eyes. “I have the best lawyer.”

Clark grunted, shrugged, and marched up the aisle. The courtroom was empty now, except for the two of them. The judge’s image had vanished. Erin was looking at him oddly, and he felt himself blushing again. “I’m sorry,” he said again. Lamely. “What about their appeal? What do we do now?”

“I don’t think NeuroTek has a chance. The judge didn’t make any legal errors, and the appellate courts are doing all they can to protect what’s left of the jury system.” She looked away, her eyes focused on the empty bench. “I can refer you to a colleague of mine. She’s a marvelous appellate lawyer. She’ll…”

“Wait a minute!” He seized her arm, felt her flinch. “You’re quitting? Why?” His sudden anguish roughened his voice. “I didn’t mean to get so… physical just now, if that’s the trouble.”

“That’s not the trouble.” She smiled crookedly, still refusing to look at him. “I let myself… get emotionally involved. I’m… not objective anymore. I just can’t continue to represent you.”

Not objective anymore. He looked down at his hand on her arm, pulled her gently around to face him. “What are you saying?” he asked softly.

“I…”

“No, forget it. Don’t say anything.” He laid his fingers on her lips, grinning like an idiot. “Words don’t mean anything. Not yet, anyway.” Then he took her face between his hands and kissed her again. Slowly.

And felt her smile.