The Lawyer's Lawyer

CHAPTER Sixty-Five



Tom and Henry went to The Swamp that night to have their beer and a little dinner. Tom did not want to go out at all. He wasn’t in the mood to put himself out there where the citizens of Oakville could say anything they wanted to him. Henry reminded him, however, that if they were going to have a beer for Jack, Ron should be a part of that occasion. Tom agreed. Besides, when he thought about it, what rational human being would even attempt to say something nasty to him with Henry sitting at the table?

It was Friday night, but The Swamp was almost deserted.

“What’s going on around here?” Tom asked before he actually thought about what was going on around there. They sat at a table by the window looking out over the street. Ron sat with them. He brought a pitcher of beer and three glasses.

“It’s just a slow night,” Ron said as he poured. “It happens sometimes.”

Henry knew better. “Your fellow citizens are paying you back for sticking by your friend, aren’t they, Ronnie?”

“I’m not sure, but it has never been this deserted on a Friday night since I opened the place. Even the college kids aren’t here and they’re not usually paying attention to what happens in the local courtroom.”

There were a few college kids at the bar but it was a far cry from a normal weekend night, even in the summer.

“That really stinks,” Tom said.

“It won’t last long,” Ron assured him. “People have short memories about where to eat and drink.”

“Did you hear what happened in court today?” Henry asked Ron.

“Oh, I heard about it and a lot more. Tom, do Merton’s actions today give you a basis for appeal?”

“Possibly, but not as strong as I would have liked. Judge Holbrook gave a curative instruction to the jurors and then polled them. He was making his own record. A denial of a motion for mistrial is within a judge’s discretion. Why are you asking? Are you already onto the appeal stage?”

“Pretty much.”

“Do you know something we don’t?” Henry asked.

“Yeah, I know somebody who works for the paper. They’ve been doing exit interviews. I’m sure they’re doing them for Merton since I haven’t seen a word about them in the paper.”

Tom became a little impatient hearing the news. “Did he tell you the results?”

“Yeah. They did it for two days—the day Sam and Danni testified and today.”

“And?”

“There was no difference. Eighty-five percent think Jack’s guilty, ten percent don’t know, and only five percent think he’s innocent.”

“That’s the gallery—it’s not necessarily the jury,” Henry said.

“If the gallery is that strong, the jury is the same way,” Tom said.

“Where does that leave us, hoping for a lone juror or two to hold out?” Henry asked.

“That’s not even a reasonable hope,” Tom said. “This is a small town. A juror who even thinks about holding out in this town knows that he or she will have to move. People may have short memories about where they eat, but personal vendettas can last a lifetime.”

“So we’ve got nothing?” Henry asked.

“Never say never,” Tom said. “We’ll go back in Monday and continue to slug it out. Who knows what may happen.”

Ron raised his glass. “Let’s have a toast,” he said. “To miracles.”

They all raised their glasses.