whole life, waiting like a horse for the snowfall. He turned from the window. “I’d like to be the foreman,” Christopher said, and because he spoke so rarely, each face looked up at him in surprise.
“I think that’s a great idea!” Megan exclaimed, because it was a compromise that would head off trouble. Who could object to Christopher? He was serious, smart, and handsome, in a lumberjacky way.
“Good for you, Christopher,” said Mrs. Wahlbaum, pleased that the young man was finally coming out of his shell. It proved what she always told her class about patience.
Kenny looked over his folded arms at Ralph, who nodded back, agreeing tacitly to at least a temporary truce. “Okay by me,” Ralph said. “You be the foreman, Chris.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your confidence in me.” Christopher felt good. He had a job now, a purpose. He’d do everything in his power to persuade them to acquit, and fast. He’d take care of her, like he did his horses. Quietly, and without fanfare or thanks. He’d see to it.
For Marta.
“Okay, we’re all agreed,” Christopher said. “We’ll take a vote to start things off. Everybody write down what they think the verdict should be. Don’t put your name or anything. It’s secret.”
“Roger.” Ralph nodded. He began ripping off sheets from the legal pad and sending them skidding around the table to each juror.
“Ain’t we gonna talk about it first?” Nick asked, just to stall them. He didn’t know how to vote. He looked around the table for help, but his wife wasn’t on the jury. His stomach burned like hell. “Ain’t we gonna discuss? Just for a little?”
Gussella shook her head firmly. “No, we’re voting first, we already agreed. Why waste more time? Maybe we’ll all agree on the verdict. Here’s your paper.” She reached across the table and handed him a sheet of paper. “Vote.”
Nick took the paper obediently, and the other jurors grabbed sharpened pencils from a plastic tray on the table. Nobody skimmed the exhibits stacked in the middle of the table, tagged and labeled. Nobody gaped at the autopsy photos or puzzled over the DNA evidence. The jurors’ heads were bent for only ten minutes and they handed their papers in as eagerly as kids on the last day of school. Christopher opened each sheet with care, smoothed it out on the walnut veneer table, and wrote the juror’s vote on the blackboard behind him. There was complete silence as each chalk hash mark screeched on the board. It was as if Steere’s fate were their own.
Christopher opened the last piece of folded-up legal paper and his face betrayed none of the happiness he felt inside. “Another vote for innocent,” he announced, making the final hash mark. He stood away from the blackboard and read it aloud. “It’s nine to two to find Steere innocent. Only one person abstained.”
“Thank you, Jesus,” Gussella said, beaming. She had a gold filling on one of her top teeth, and it was the first time she’d smiled broadly enough to let it show. “Carolina, here I come.”
“How do you like that?” Ralph said, grinning, and his voice sounded like he liked it just fine.
“Who abstained?” Megan asked, annoyed. All they needed was a holdout. She was losing clients as she spoke. She scanned the faces around the table. So many old people with nothing to do. That was the problem. And the race thing. It was obvious who the two votes to convict had been, Kenny and Lucky Seven.
Mrs. Wahlbaum clucked in disapproval. “Now, Megan, we can’t pick on whoever abstained. It’s a secret ballot. Everybody has the right to follow his own beliefs and conscience. Even if it does keep us here longer.”
Nick Tullio looked down at his thumb, embedded between the wool pleats of his handmade pants. He didn’t know what he stained, but he guessed he was the only one who wrote I DON ’ T KNOW YET on his yellow paper. Nick was relieved Christopher had figured out a way to have a
“I think that’s a great idea!” Megan exclaimed, because it was a compromise that would head off trouble. Who could object to Christopher? He was serious, smart, and handsome, in a lumberjacky way.
“Good for you, Christopher,” said Mrs. Wahlbaum, pleased that the young man was finally coming out of his shell. It proved what she always told her class about patience.
Kenny looked over his folded arms at Ralph, who nodded back, agreeing tacitly to at least a temporary truce. “Okay by me,” Ralph said. “You be the foreman, Chris.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your confidence in me.” Christopher felt good. He had a job now, a purpose. He’d do everything in his power to persuade them to acquit, and fast. He’d take care of her, like he did his horses. Quietly, and without fanfare or thanks. He’d see to it.
For Marta.
“Okay, we’re all agreed,” Christopher said. “We’ll take a vote to start things off. Everybody write down what they think the verdict should be. Don’t put your name or anything. It’s secret.”
“Roger.” Ralph nodded. He began ripping off sheets from the legal pad and sending them skidding around the table to each juror.
“Ain’t we gonna talk about it first?” Nick asked, just to stall them. He didn’t know how to vote. He looked around the table for help, but his wife wasn’t on the jury. His stomach burned like hell. “Ain’t we gonna discuss? Just for a little?”
Gussella shook her head firmly. “No, we’re voting first, we already agreed. Why waste more time? Maybe we’ll all agree on the verdict. Here’s your paper.” She reached across the table and handed him a sheet of paper. “Vote.”
Nick took the paper obediently, and the other jurors grabbed sharpened pencils from a plastic tray on the table. Nobody skimmed the exhibits stacked in the middle of the table, tagged and labeled. Nobody gaped at the autopsy photos or puzzled over the DNA evidence. The jurors’ heads were bent for only ten minutes and they handed their papers in as eagerly as kids on the last day of school. Christopher opened each sheet with care, smoothed it out on the walnut veneer table, and wrote the juror’s vote on the blackboard behind him. There was complete silence as each chalk hash mark screeched on the board. It was as if Steere’s fate were their own.
Christopher opened the last piece of folded-up legal paper and his face betrayed none of the happiness he felt inside. “Another vote for innocent,” he announced, making the final hash mark. He stood away from the blackboard and read it aloud. “It’s nine to two to find Steere innocent. Only one person abstained.”
“Thank you, Jesus,” Gussella said, beaming. She had a gold filling on one of her top teeth, and it was the first time she’d smiled broadly enough to let it show. “Carolina, here I come.”
“How do you like that?” Ralph said, grinning, and his voice sounded like he liked it just fine.
“Who abstained?” Megan asked, annoyed. All they needed was a holdout. She was losing clients as she spoke. She scanned the faces around the table. So many old people with nothing to do. That was the problem. And the race thing. It was obvious who the two votes to convict had been, Kenny and Lucky Seven.
Mrs. Wahlbaum clucked in disapproval. “Now, Megan, we can’t pick on whoever abstained. It’s a secret ballot. Everybody has the right to follow his own beliefs and conscience. Even if it does keep us here longer.”
Nick Tullio looked down at his thumb, embedded between the wool pleats of his handmade pants. He didn’t know what he stained, but he guessed he was the only one who wrote I DON ’ T KNOW YET on his yellow paper. Nick was relieved Christopher had figured out a way to have a
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