“The Honorable Judge Janice Maloney,” the court officer called out as the judge appeared from her chambers and took her seat at the bench. She arranged things on the desk in front of her, moving the water pitcher to the side. She was a thin woman with intense eyes.
“You may be seated,” the court officer called. “Members of the jury, please remain standing.”
Jeffrey took his seat, still watching the jury. Not one of them would look at him, a fact that progressively disturbed him. Jeffrey focused on the white-haired grandmotherly figure who stood on the far left in the front row. During the trial she had frequently looked in his direction. It had been Jeffrey’s intuition she’d felt some special warmth toward him. But not now. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her eyes downcast.
The clerk of the court adjusted his glasses. He was sitting at a desk just below the bench and to the right. The court recorder was directly in front of him.
“Will the defendant please stand and face the jury,” the clerk said.
Jeffrey stood up again. This time he did it slowly. Now all the jurors were staring at him. Still, their faces remained stony. Jeffrey felt his pulse hammering in his ears.
“Madam Foreperson,” the clerk called out. The foreperson was a handsome woman in her late thirties who looked professional. “Has the jury agreed upon a verdict?”
:’Yes,” the foreperson said.
‘Bailiff, please get the verdict from the foreperson,” the clerk directed.
The court officer stepped over to her and took a seemingly plain sheet of paper from her hands. Then he handed the sheet to the judge.
The judge read the note, tilting her head back to read through her bifocals. She took her time, nodded, then handed the paper to the clerk who had stood to receive it.
The clerk seemed to take his time, too. Jeffrey felt intense irritation at all this unnecessary delay as he stood facing the expressionless jurors.
The court was taunting him, mocking him with its archaic protocol. His heart was beating faster now, and his palms were sweating. There was a burning in his chest.
After clearing his throat, the clerk turned to face the jury. “What say you, Madam Foreperson, is the defendant guilty or not guilty of the alleged complaint of second-degree murder?”
Jeffrey felt his legs tremble. His left hand leaned on the edge of the defendant’s table. He wasn’t specifically religious, but he found himself praying: Please, God…
“Guilty!” the foreperson called out with a clear, resonant voice.
Jeffrey felt his legs sway as the image of the courtroom momentarily swam before him. He grappled for the table with his right hand to steady himself. He felt Randolph grip his right arm.
“This is only the first round,” Randolph whispered in his ear. “We’ll appeal, just like we did the malpractice judgment.”
The clerk looked over toward Jeffrey and Randolph reprovingly, then turned back to the jury and said: “Madam Foreperson and members of the jury, harken to your verdict as recorded by the court. The jurors upon their oath do say that the defendant is guilty as charged in said complaint. So say you, Madam FoTeperson?”
:’Yes,” the forelady said.
‘So say you, members of the jury?” the clerk asked.
“Yes,” the jurors replied in unison.
The clerk turned his attention back to his books while the judge began to discharge the jury. She thanked them for their
time and consideration of the case, praising their role in upholding a two-hundred-year tradition of justice.
Jeffrey sat down heavily, feeling numb and cold. Randolph was talking to him, reminding him that thejudge of the malpractice case should never have allowed the question of his drug problem to stand.
“Besides,” Randolph said, bending down and looking Jeffrey directly in the eye, “all the evidence is circumstantial. There was not one piece of definitive evidence that you had taken morphine. Not one!”
But Jeffrey was not listening. The ramifications of this verdict were too overwhelming to consider. Deep down he realized that for all his fears, he’d really never believed he’d be convictedsimply because he was not guilty. He’d never been involved in the legal system before, and he’d always trusted that “truth would out” if he ever was wrongly accused. But that belief had been false. Now he’d be going to prison.