The Runaway Jury Read Online Free PDF

so many qualified voters would warm the heart of any elected official, and His Honor couldn’t conceal a broad grin as he welcomed the panel to his lair as if they were volunteers. The smile slowly vanished as he completed a short welcoming speech, impressing upon them the importance of their presence. Harkin was not known for either his warmth or his humor, and he quickly turned serious.
    And with good reason. Seated before him were more lawyers than could actually fit around the tables. The court file listed eight as counsel of record for the plaintiff, and nine for the defense. Four days earlier, in a closed courtroom, Harkin had assigned seating for both sides. Once the jury was selected and the trial started, only six lawyers per side could sit with feet under the table. The others were assigned to a row of chairs where the jury consultants now huddled and watched. He also designated seats for the parties—Celeste Wood, the widow, and the Pynex representative. The seating arrangement had been reduced to writing and included in a small booklet of rules His Honor had written just for this occasion.
    The lawsuit had been filed four years ago, and actively pursued and defended since its inception. Itnow filled eleven storage boxes. Each side had already spent millions to reach this point. The trial would last at least a month. Assembled at this moment in his courtroom were some of the brightest legal minds and largest egos in the country. Fred Harkin was determined to rule with a heavy hand.
    Speaking into the microphone on the bench, he gave a quick synopsis of the trial, but only for informational purposes. Nice to let these folks know why they’re here. He said the trial was scheduled to last for several weeks, and that the jurors would not be sequestered. There were some specific statutory excuses from jury duty, he explained, and asked if anyone over the age of sixty-five had slipped through the computer. Six hands shot upward. He seemed surprised and looked blankly at Gloria Lane, who shrugged as if this happened all the time. The six had the option of leaving immediately, and five chose to do so. Down to 189. The jury consultants scribbled and X’ed off names. The lawyers gravely made notes.
    “Now, do we have any blind people here?” the Judge asked. “I mean, legally blind?” It was a light question, and brought a few smiles. Why would a blind person show up for jury duty? It was unheard of.
    Slowly, a hand was raised from the center of the pack, row seven, about halfway down. Juror number sixty-three, a Mr. Herman Grimes, age fifty-nine, computer programmer, white, married, no kids. What the hell was this? Did anybody know this man was blind? The jury experts huddled on both sides. The Herman Grimes photos had been of his house and a shot or two of him on the front porch.He’d lived in the area about three years. His questionnaires didn’t indicate any handicap.
    “Please stand, sir,” the Judge said.
    Mr. Herman Grimes stood slowly, hands in pockets, casually dressed, normal-looking eyeglasses. He didn’t appear to be blind.
    “Your number please,” the Judge asked. He, unlike the lawyers and their consultants, had not been required to memorize every available tidbit about every juror.
    “Uh, sixty-three.”
    “And your name?” He was flipping the pages of his computer printout.
    “Herman Grimes.”
    Harkin found the name, then gazed into the sea of faces. “And you’re legally blind?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Well, Mr. Grimes, under our law, you are excused from jury duty. You’re free to go.”
    Herman Grimes didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. He just looked at whatever he could see and said, “Why?”
    “I beg your pardon.”
    “Why do I have to leave?”
    “Because you’re blind.”
    “I know that.”
    “And, well, blind people can’t serve on juries,” Harkin said, glancing to his right and then to his left as his words trailed off. “You’re free to go, Mr. Grimes.”
    Herman