“My sister lives in one of her complexes.” He hunched his shoulders. “She seems to like it okay.”
His tepid review elicited a laugh from the rest of the jurors on the panel and a big fat, fake smile from Shirley Mitchell. Score one for the defense.
Gloria Leland rose from her chair. “Your Honor, if I may.”
“Briefly.” Judge Hunt didn’t even glance at Rigley before he spoke. Reggie hadn’t been on a jury before, but she’d witnessed plenty of voir dires, and without exception they started with the judge making a few remarks and then handing the proceeding over to the prosecution and then the defense. Gloria Leland was known for her snake oil salesman brand of charm, but she wouldn’t have expected Judge Hunt to fall for her act. Rigley shot daggers at Gloria, but her attention was fully focused on Mr. Rodriguez. “I’m gratified to hear that your sister has access to excellent housing options. Can you tell me what she likes most about where she lives?”
Rodriguez straightened in his chair and beamed at the attention. “I’m not too proud to say that she was happy to find an affordable place to live. Rents are sky-high in the city and landlords are pushing people out every day so they can charge more money. People like my sister can’t afford to live near where they work and it’s a damn shame.”
He shot a look at the judge like he expected to be admonished, but Hunt hadn’t flinched at the choice of words. Reggie had seen the judge cuss up a storm when he was pissed off about something going wrong in his courtroom so the simple “damn” probably hadn’t fazed him. What had her curious was the speech Rodriguez had delivered. It almost felt like he was a plant designed to get the jury focused on a particular angle Leland was going to push during trial.
As if he had the same thought, Johnny Rigley stood and addressed the judge. “I’m glad we all got to hear what Mr. Rodriguez had to say, but if you’re finished with your portion of voir dire, may I have an opportunity to talk to the panel at this time?”
Hunt looked surprised at the question and waved a hand. “Sure, ask away. Each side has one hour.”
Rigley cleared his throat and focused on Rodriguez. “Thank you for your candor. I think everyone here would agree with you that affordable housing is important. Right?” He waited a beat while most of the people on the panel raised their hands in assent. “But you’d also agree that affordable housing should come from sound business practices rather than cheating the taxpayers, right?”
Rodriguez shot an apologetic look at Leland. “Well, sure. I mean no one likes to get cheated.”
“I agree with you, a hundred percent,” Rigley said. “And we’re here today to make sure anyone who cheats the citizens of Dallas County is held accountable. Raise your hands if you agree.”
Reggie felt silly, but she raised her hand with the others to keep from drawing attention to herself. She’d seen this game enough to know how it was played. Each side doing their best to indoctrinate the panel while ferreting out those who would lead them in a direction other than the one they wanted to go. Normally, silence increased the chances of being selected, but in her case she was betting on silence to keep her from getting selected to serve. Her best chance was to lie low and rely on her former employment here at the courthouse to be the reason her name wasn’t called when it came time to seat the jury in the box.
Rigley picked up a piece of paper from counsel table and gazed at the front row of jurors before focusing on Brooke. “Ms. Dawson, what do you do for a living?”
Reggie watched closely, already sensing Brooke’s anxiety at being the center of attention. Brooke squirmed in her seat and didn’t make eye contact with Rigley. “I’m a student and I have a full-time job.”
“It’s sometimes hard to make ends meet?”
“Sometimes.”
“Affordable housing is probably something important to you.”
“I would imagine it’s important to anyone who isn’t a millionaire.”
Reggie smiled at the slight edge in Brooke’s tone and the twitter of laughter from the rest of the jurors. Brooke wasn’t simply a bundle of nerves—she had spunk.
“True, true,” Rigley said. “I imagine you work hard for what you earn.”
“I do.”
“And you do good, honest work.”
“I do my best.”
“Thank you.” He moved on to the rest of the jurors in the first row, asking questions about their work, following the same general line of implying that they earned their livings doing honest work, and implying Shirley Mitchell did anything but. His method was tried and true, but a little boring and by the time it was Gloria Leland’s turn to ask questions, more than a few people on the panel were yawning.
“Well, that was quite the display,” Gloria said in a loud voice as she rose again to address them. “Let’s summarize. You all think it’s a bad idea to earn a living cheating others. Raise your hand if you agree.”
Hands shot up across the room and Gloria smiled. “Thank you for that quick and clear answer. Now we move on to the stuff that matters, but before I do, let me assure you that my client, Ms. Mitchell, agrees with you. The question we’re here to answer is whether she cheated to get the city contract. Did she bribe a city official? Did she lie in her bid to get the work? The answer to both those questions is no and after the state has presented their case, I have no doubt you will agree that’s the case. In fact, I doubt I’ll have to do much at all to convince you otherwise oncethe state is done. How many of you think I or Ms. Mitchell have to prove anything at all?”
A couple of hands shot up and Reggie was certain the response was more about trying to get off the jury than failure to pay attention during high school civics. She let her mind wander while Gloria grilled jurors about whether they were really willing to ignore both the judge’s instructions and the constitution. Meanwhile, Brooke sat perfectly still, facing the front of the room, her eyes trained on the wall. If she worked a couple of jobs to make ends meet, she probably wanted to get out of here as much as anyone else in the room, yet she hadn’t volunteered an answer to any question that wasn’t directed her way. Didn’t she know that sitting quietly was a sure-fire way to ensure she wound up on the jury?
“And what about you, Ms. Knoll?”
Crap. She had no idea what Leland had asked, and she hated having to ask since it made her look like she hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been paying attention, just not to her. “I’m sorry, can you repeat the question?”
“You don’t think Ms. Mitchell has to prove she’s innocent, do you?”