“We don’t have time for you to list all the evidence, just the important points. But more importantly, this is argument,” I stress, trying to hurry Heather along. “You need to be convincing and persuasive.”
“Why don’t you do you do it if it’s so easy!” Heather stomps past the counsel table and throws herself into a desk chair.
“Heather, come back. I’m sorry if I was too critical.” How about you grow a thicker skin? I want to say, but I bite my tongue. She appears on the verge of tears, and the last thing I want to do is destroy her confidence.
“Why don’t you show her?” Randall suggests. “Just do a quick closing.”
“I don’t do closings,” I remind him.
“But you’re okay with criticizing the hell out of mine,” Heather shouts.
I shut my eyes and count to ten so I don’t leap out of my chair and throttle her. I can do a closing if that’s what she needs. I do them in my sleep. I just can’t do them in a competition.
“Come on,” Randall cajoles.
“Fine.” I stand up and take Heather’s abandoned spot in front of the chairs. If I do this, we can all leave.
“May it please the Court.” I gesture toward Randall. “Opposing counsel.” I pretend Heather is the attorney for the other side, which is easy because I feel we’re oceans apart on the concept of an effective closing. “Members of the jury.” I face the chairs. “We have asked you to sacrifice a day out of your life, and your sacrifice does not go unappreciated. One of the greatest strengths of our legal system is that we are allowed to bring our disputes before a jury of our peers. No matter how thin our wallets are, no matter our position in society, under the eyes of Lady Justice, we are all the same. We thank you for what you have done today and what you will do on behalf of our client, Emily Hartog.”
“Do I really have to go through all of that?” Heather interrupts. “Because I could thank everyone in one sentence. Yo, peeps, thanks for your attention. Here’s why you should find in our favor.”
I grit my teeth. “No, Heather. You do not have to go through all of that. Do it your own way. Make it your own, but sell the jury on the fact that you are truly grateful for their presence here. We don’t want them pissed off.”
“Fine.” She imperiously waves her wand. “Go ahead.”
Randall bangs his pencil against the desk. “Proceed, counsel.”
“Thanks.” I scowl at both of them. I take a deep breath, gather my thoughts and pick up where I left off. “In the Old Testament, the Jewish people were required to sacrifice a lamb for their sins on a yearly basis. But the lamb that was chosen was special. It had to be a lamb with the nicest wool, the best-looking hooves, the clearest eyes, and the strongest gait. It was, after all, a stand-in for the Lord and therefore must be as perfect as a human-raised lamb could be.”
Randall and Heather are watching my every move now, hanging on every word. I hide a smile of confidence. This story gets people every time.
“The leaders were charged with picking out the lamb, and once chosen, the tribe would cast their sins upon the back of that lamb, that perfect creature. They would confess their cheating, their envy, their blasphemies, and then the leaders would drive that blameless lamb out into the wilderness. It is from that practice we derive the word ‘scapegoat.’”
Heather sucks in a breath, and I give her a nod of acknowledgment. This is how you do it. A movement in the back of the room catches my attention. My eyes widen at the sight of Matty. With a tip of his head, he silently asks if it’s okay that he’s here. Is it? I ask myself. Why not? It’s not like he’s judging me.
I turn back to the fake jury, but my attention is still on the back of the room. I can feel his eyes on me as I spread my hands and once again argue for my client. “Ms. Hartog is the scapegoat for IMC. They designed, produced, and assembled a faulty ice resurfacing machine. Instead of accepting responsibility for this, they want to place the blame on Ms. Hartog, citing operator failure, but the evidence clearly shows that even if Ms. Hartog operated the machine perfectly, the brakes still would have malfunctioned, she still would have been injured, and we would still be here today asking for the same thing—for IMC to be brought to justice. At the beginning of the trial, my co-counsel told you we would prove these three things.” I lift the demonstrative aid identifying the elements of our charge. “And we did. Allow me to revisit a few of the highlights.”
I tick off each element, reminding the fake jury of the key bits of testimony and documentary evidence such as the co-worker who described the previous problems with the machine, the company paperwork that revealed internal concerns about the braking mechanism. Randall starts giving me the wind-up motion. Shoot, eight minutes goes by so fast when you’re having fun.