Read Online A Fool for a Client by David Kessler - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Kessler
Ads: Link
treading softly,” he replied, meeting her eyes, unblinkingly.
“Acceptable to the defence,” said Justine, taking Abrams and the judge by surprise.
Parker ’ s heart sank under a wave of confusion and fear. What was that stupid girl doing? Was she determined to lose the case, and her freedom along with it? Was it some twisted lemming instinct? Swimming out to sea to face certain death?Abrams was barely able to conceal his delight. She had handed him a gift on a plate. And yet, the delight began to ebb almost immediately, leaving a creeping feeling of doubt in its wake.
The next prospective juror was a housewife. Abrams had no record of previous jury service for her, but he passed her after a few brief routine questions. Parker knew why. He was acting on the assumption that she would be envious of Justine ’ s youthful good looks and embryonic professional career. Parker shared the assumption, and knew that a wise lawyer would work triple duty to get this woman off the jury, using a peremptory challenge of necessary.
But now it was Justine ’ s turn, and Parker could only hope and pray.
“You say you have four children. Are any of them especially talented?”
“All of them,” replied the woman, slightly defensively.
“Did you always want to be a homemaker?”
There was a look of uncertainty on the woman ’ s face, as if she were trying to recapture a distant recollection. But the look was tinged with regret.
“No. I studied linguistics and literature. I was going to be a professional translator. I ’ ve also done some creative writing. Short stories and articles.”
Justine nodded.
“The sort of thing you can do from home?”
“Yes,” the woman replied, this time with a hint of suspicion in her tone.
There was a ruffling of motion on the other side of the courtroom as Abrams turned away, smiling.
“Did you work after you got married?”
“Yes.”
“And after you had children?”
There was another moment of hesitation, as if the woman was holding something back.
“Well like I said I did freelance work... but nothing outside of the home if that ’ s what you mean.
Justine cast a side glance at Abrams and then turned back to meet the woman ’ s eyes.
“Were any of your children accidents or mistakes?” she asked.
The room had been quit to begin with. But when Justine asked this question the room went silent. Justine was brazenly insulting a prospective juror who was not initially against her, with virtually no possibility of challenging her for cause. All she was doing was wasting a peremptory challenge.
Oh God, thought Parker. Why don ’ t I just give her a knife so she can slash her wrists?
“No young lady, they weren ’ t!”
As before, the woman had hesitated in surprise at the question. But the response, when it came, was as vigorous as could be expected.
“Do you still do creative writing?” asked Justine, continuing as if nothing had happened.
Parker was thrown by this question. He had forgotten what the woman had said about creative writing, and in any case he couldn ’ t see the relevance of it.
“Part of the time,” the woman replied. “But not as much as I used to.”
“Why not?” Justine asked encouragingly.
“I don ’ t have the time. I ’ m bringing up four children don ’ t forget.”
“But none of them are really young.”
The tone was argumentative, but mildly so.
“They still need attention. They ’ ve got talent, it needs to be nurtured.”
“You mean you didn ’ t give up your career, you just exchanged one for another.”
For the first time since her voi r dire began, the woman smiled appreciatively, as if learning something about herself.
“Exactly.”
“Do you think you ’ d have given up full-time gainful employment if your children hadn ’ t been so talented?
“Well they were talented because I devoted so much attention to them. Strictly speaking I don ’ t believe in talent. I prefer to call it ability.”
“But
“Acceptable to the defence,” said Justine, taking Abrams and the judge by surprise.
Parker ’ s heart sank under a wave of confusion and fear. What was that stupid girl doing? Was she determined to lose the case, and her freedom along with it? Was it some twisted lemming instinct? Swimming out to sea to face certain death?Abrams was barely able to conceal his delight. She had handed him a gift on a plate. And yet, the delight began to ebb almost immediately, leaving a creeping feeling of doubt in its wake.
The next prospective juror was a housewife. Abrams had no record of previous jury service for her, but he passed her after a few brief routine questions. Parker knew why. He was acting on the assumption that she would be envious of Justine ’ s youthful good looks and embryonic professional career. Parker shared the assumption, and knew that a wise lawyer would work triple duty to get this woman off the jury, using a peremptory challenge of necessary.
But now it was Justine ’ s turn, and Parker could only hope and pray.
“You say you have four children. Are any of them especially talented?”
“All of them,” replied the woman, slightly defensively.
“Did you always want to be a homemaker?”
There was a look of uncertainty on the woman ’ s face, as if she were trying to recapture a distant recollection. But the look was tinged with regret.
“No. I studied linguistics and literature. I was going to be a professional translator. I ’ ve also done some creative writing. Short stories and articles.”
Justine nodded.
“The sort of thing you can do from home?”
“Yes,” the woman replied, this time with a hint of suspicion in her tone.
There was a ruffling of motion on the other side of the courtroom as Abrams turned away, smiling.
“Did you work after you got married?”
“Yes.”
“And after you had children?”
There was another moment of hesitation, as if the woman was holding something back.
“Well like I said I did freelance work... but nothing outside of the home if that ’ s what you mean.
Justine cast a side glance at Abrams and then turned back to meet the woman ’ s eyes.
“Were any of your children accidents or mistakes?” she asked.
The room had been quit to begin with. But when Justine asked this question the room went silent. Justine was brazenly insulting a prospective juror who was not initially against her, with virtually no possibility of challenging her for cause. All she was doing was wasting a peremptory challenge.
Oh God, thought Parker. Why don ’ t I just give her a knife so she can slash her wrists?
“No young lady, they weren ’ t!”
As before, the woman had hesitated in surprise at the question. But the response, when it came, was as vigorous as could be expected.
“Do you still do creative writing?” asked Justine, continuing as if nothing had happened.
Parker was thrown by this question. He had forgotten what the woman had said about creative writing, and in any case he couldn ’ t see the relevance of it.
“Part of the time,” the woman replied. “But not as much as I used to.”
“Why not?” Justine asked encouragingly.
“I don ’ t have the time. I ’ m bringing up four children don ’ t forget.”
“But none of them are really young.”
The tone was argumentative, but mildly so.
“They still need attention. They ’ ve got talent, it needs to be nurtured.”
“You mean you didn ’ t give up your career, you just exchanged one for another.”
For the first time since her voi r dire began, the woman smiled appreciatively, as if learning something about herself.
“Exactly.”
“Do you think you ’ d have given up full-time gainful employment if your children hadn ’ t been so talented?
“Well they were talented because I devoted so much attention to them. Strictly speaking I don ’ t believe in talent. I prefer to call it ability.”
“But
Similar Books
