SHUT UP!
I show it to Hammer. He hands it to Darryl and the note makes a trip around the back of the room.
Judge Cain runs down how the competition plays out. The plaintiff, that’s Luce’s side, goes first with their three witnesses. There’ll be a short break and then the defendants, archrivals from Central, a college with a shit football team, goes next. The two parties will then have closing arguments.
“I thought you said it was oral argument,” Hammer whispers.
“I guess I mixed it up,” I whisper out of the side of my mouth. I swear she used that word once or twice.
“Will the team from Western introduce yourselves?”
Randall, the dark-haired dude, rises and says, “Yes, your Honor. I’m Randall James.” He holds his hand toward Luce, who’s sitting in the middle between him and the girl Luce can’t stand—Heather. Even though she can’t speak, she’s going to sit at the table and take notes and some shit like that. “And I along with my co-counsel Lucy Watson and Heather—”
We all start cheering and whistling. In the back of the room, someone starts chanting. Lucy. Lucy. Lucy. Must be Ahmed? Jack, maybe?
Judge Cain bangs her gavel on the desk. “Order! Order!”
“Order!” Hammer crows. “Shit, this is just like television.” He shifts in his chair to get more comfortable. And like on television, it looks like we’re getting a talking to.
The judge leans forward, and not entirely unkindly, but definitely with a certain amount of sternness, says, “This is not a sporting event and we don’t allow cheering. At least not until the event is over. If anyone believes they will have difficulty abiding by that, please feel free to use the exit doors at the back.”
There’s a few random coughs along with some murmurs. I stand up and find myself staring at Ace, who is on his feet, too. He looks at the offense and I stare down the defense until there’s utter silence.
Then we both sit down.
“All right. Thank you, gentlemen. You may proceed.”
Randall introduces Heather again and then his client and sits down. The other team does the same.
Afterwards, Randall is instructed to come forward and give opening argument. Hammer opens his mouth again, but I shake my head real slow until he shuts it.
The case Randy presents is fairly simple. Their client, Emily, manages a local ice rink. They have an ice resurfacer or Zamboni, although theirs was manufactured by ICE and not the Zamboni company. Who knew Zamboni was a brand name? I learned something and I’m not even in class.
Emily was working, and one of her underlings—Randy calls him an employee—was driving the resurfacer when it stalled. Emily came over to check things out and the resurfacer took off on her. She tried to stop it by hanging on to the machine. She was able to steer it into a barricade but ended up breaking her leg. ICE had documents that showed the machine’s clutch had a tendency to slip from neutral into drive and the machine would move even when the brake was on.
An “ooooh” rose up from the football team at the mention of these documents. A wave of the gavel had us all zipping our mouths closed.
Randall tells the room how Emily’s life went to shit and she wants some money so she can replace all that she lost.
Which sucks. Hard. What if she’d been an athlete working a part-time job? I want ICE to write out a check by the time Randall sits down.
The other side gets up and explains that the broken leg was sad and unfortunate but that jurors are supposed to decide things on facts and not emotion. Good luck on that. People are driven by emotion. It’s why we have locker room quotes up on the wall. To motivate us into crushing weak opponents.
The attorneys for ICE tell us that Emily caused her own accident by using the machine that she knew was faulty. Plus, she was irresponsible with her money, buying a house, a new car, and not saving anything. That’s a good point.
By the time ICE’s attorney is done speaking, I’m not sure how I feel. And by the way Hammer and the rest of the guys are leaning forward, they’re just as conflicted.
Both sides put on evidence. Both sides are pretty damned good. As we near the end, I can see Luce letting the tension get to her. She’s gripping her pen so tightly her knuckles are turning white and I’m starting to worry she’s actually going to snap her spine if she stiffens any more.
The last piece of evidence gets offered and the defense “rests,” which I guess means they’re done because the judge starts telling everyone there will be a five-minute recess before closing arguments start.
Many of the guys take this opportunity to piss. I sit behind Luce as she remains at her table, head bent, absorbing the words she’s going to get up and say.