Page 46 of The 1 Lawyer

Judge Walker wasn’t having it. He hit the gavel block hard. “Order! Order in the court!”

His words would have silenced the courtroom on any other occasion, but today they had little impact. Walker turned to the jury box, where some of the jurors were looking frightened.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you are dismissed.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the crowd. “Thank you for your service to the community. Charlene, escort them out.”

Charlene hustled the jurors out of the courtroom, and after the doors had shut behind them, Walker slapped his hands flat on the bench and leaned forward.

“This is a court of law, y’all understand that? I’m not putting up with this behavior!” He focused his glare on the rows where the protesters sat, defiant.

One man shouted back, “I’m not putting up with this verdict!”

“I will not tolerate rowdy outbursts or disorderly conduct!” the judge roared directly into the microphone on the bench. It let out an earsplitting whine. “Not in my court, no, sir!”

At that, the noise diminished, but it didn’t completely subside. Walker was so infuriated that the lenses of his eyeglasses fogged up. He called out to the DA. “Mr. Gordon-James, I expect the parties and witnesses on both sides will comport themselves in a manner that respects the court. I will tolerate no disruption. If this continues, I’ll find unruly individuals in contempt and instruct the sheriff’s office to take them to jail.”

The threat should have had a sobering effect, but the hissing voices didn’t hush until Gordon-James turned in his seat to face the courtroom gallery. He didn’t speak, just cast a somber gaze on the crowd.

Gradually, silence fell over the courtroom. After a moment, Judge Walker left the bench and retired to chambers. He slammed the door shut behind him, and the sound was jarring, a cymbal-clash finale to the trial.

People began to exit, but the vibe in the room remained dangerously tense and the noise built again as disgruntled voices resumed their protest. Cautiously, Iris Caro, followed by Hiram and his second wife, Sally (Daniel’s mother, Hiram’s first wife, had died of emphysema several years prior), approached the defense table. Daniel Caro was near collapse, grasping the back of his chair for support. His father’s hug was probably the only thing that kept him on his feet. As the Caros embraced my client, Joey Roman stood back, keeping an eye on the courtroom.

In ordinary circumstances, I’d receive some kudos, handshakes, and slaps on the back. But not that day, not from that crowd. While I wore a phony victory grin, I kept track of the parting insults aimed at the defense table.

Mason and Jenny were in the courtroom. I was glad they’d come to hear the verdict and I tried to catch Jenny’s eye. I wanted to thank her for the valuable assistance she had provided during trial preparation. This was her victory too.

I knew Jenny pretty well. She saw me, waved, and slipped out the door with the rest of the Aurora Gates pro-prosecution crowd.

She clearly wasn’t happy with the verdict.

A young man shouldered his way through the crowd and up to the counsel table and got right up in my face. “How does it feel, huh? Does it feel good to set a killer free?”

His chest bumped against mine. I stepped back because I didn’t intend to duke it out with this dude in a courtroom—no way.

He advanced again, ready to swing at me, and I wondered whether I’d have to let him knock me down.

Then a woman behind him intervened, clutching his arm. “Phil,” she said, “back off.”

My savior was my former client Arnette, the one who’d given me the cold shoulder outside the courthouse on the first day of the Caro trial.

She tugged on her companion’s arm, and he turned away, saying, “Man, you’ve caused a lot of pain. Hope you find out just what that feels like.”

I was glad to see his back. But Arnette had a final word for me.

She said, “I used to think you were a good man. You sure had me fooled.”

I could’ve argued with her, told her that I had performed my professional duty. But the shot connected. I felt a pang in my chest, followed by a surge of self-doubt. Maybe I’d been posing as a good guy when I actually was a villain. Could be I’d even fooled myself.

The Caros finally decided it was safe to leave. Once they were gone, Mason walked up and clapped me on the shoulder. “You did it again, Stafford Lee. Your perfect trial record remains intact! Time to celebrate. Come on, let’s go.”

I wasn’t in a partying mood, but I was so grateful for Mason’s support that I didn’t argue. My sole thought as I walked alongside him down the aisle and out the door was that in all my years of practice, I had never been so glad to get out of a courtroom.

CHAPTER 34

MASON AND I stood at the eighty-foot ice bar that stretched down the center of Hiram Caro’s newest casino. Our drinks sat on the frozen surface of the bar.

The casino had been Mason’s choice, not mine. I’d wanted to go someplace less hectic, like Mary Mahoney’s, because I still wasn’t tossing confetti in the air over that win. I felt more like licking my wounds, having a thoughtful conversation with Mason about the burden of serving as defense counsel and the dilemma we sometimes faced. The system required lawyers to mount a vigorous defense, regardless of the charges or the strength of the State’s evidence. But what about the personal costs? I needed space for reflection.

But Mason insisted on a party, and he was the man behind the wheel. We’d left my car at the office. There was no way I’d be driving with even a drop of alcohol in my system tonight. News of the verdict had spread, and I didn’t want to give the Biloxi cops a chance to even the score.

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