The Justice Game Read Online Free PDF Page A

jurors’ faces. Sherwood was willing to bet $75 million of his firm’s money on the outcome of this case.
        Like most larger-than-life rock stars, Kendra Van Wyck supported a labyrinth of companies. Her husband’s record label, a designer line, her own reality TV show and production company. All were highly profitable ventures, but all would be worthless if the diva was sentenced to life in jail. If she won, on the other hand, the companies would skyrocket in value. Until today, until this ingenious stunt in the closing argument, Sherwood thought that Van Wyck would be the biggest celebrity acquittal since O. J. Now… he wasn’t so sure.
        “The kid might be too smart for his own good,” Sherwood said, shaking his head. “Skewing the results.”
        He rubbed his forehead, the pain of another migraine setting in. His firm had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars diligently researching this case, selecting the perfect jurors, scrutinizing each piece of evidence. Now Jason Noble was blowing the whole thing apart with a piece of choreographed drama in his closing argument.
        “We can’t let this happen again,” Sherwood said. “Let’s make this trial his last.”

5
    Jason Noble watched coverage of the shootings at the WDXR studios on the television in his hotel room—an oceanfront suite at the Malibu Beach Inn on the California coastline.
        Until the footage grabbed his attention, he had been focused solely on waiting for the phone call signaling that the jury had reached its verdict. He was oblivious to the luxury surrounding him—the beautiful white sands of Carbon Beach, the ever-observant hotel staff ready to meet his every need, the Hollywood A-listers who occasionally frequented the lobby bar. None of that mattered as he speculated about the jurors’ progress, tried and retried the Van Wyck case in his mind, and steeled himself for the worst. The same young lawyer who demonstrated poise and a devil-may-care attitude in the courtroom was a world-class worrier when the jury was out.
        But in the last several minutes, he had forgotten all about his own case.
        According to Fox News, the whole sordid affair at WDXR had been broadcast live to the Virginia Beach and Norfolk markets. Now, two hours later, he was watching a replay of the shootings for the third or fourth time. Each time they ran the tape, a newswoman told viewers with weak stomachs to turn their heads, and a scroll across the bottom of the screen warned of graphic violence. Jason probably qualified for the weak stomach category but he couldn’t turn away, staring in morbid disbelief as Jamison fired at Rachel Crawford while the SWAT team’s bullets slammed into Jamison’s body, the final shots tearing off portions of his head.
        Jason clicked to other channels, all of which were breathlessly replaying the tape (though some excised the last few grisly frames) and analyzing the siege from different angles. CNN had a civil rights lawyer criticizing the SWAT team. They should have moved in quicker. They should have used tear gas earlier. The usual armchair quarterbacking. NBC featured a forensic psychiatrist who tried making sense of Jamison’s twisted mind. CBS focused on the gun.
        A woman from the Handgun Violence Coalition argued passionately for a renewal of the assault weapon ban. “This gun has no legitimate purpose. You can’t hunt with it. It’s no good for target practice. It’s used for only one thing: mowing down innocent human beings.” Her righteous indignation was palpable. “What we’ve seen today is the reason this gun is sold.”
        CBS anchor Jessica Walsh—young, photogenic, and expressive—nodded. “According to police, the gun in question is an MD-9 semi-automatic assault weapon, manufactured by a Georgia gun company named MD Firearms. We have that company’s CEO, Melissa Davids, joining us live from Atlanta.”
        A shot of a smug-looking