A Verdict for Love (11 page)

A
dam Clay rose up with a practiced air of certainty. For him
it was another moment in the sun. He was accustomed to center stage
and his ego was so big that he didn’t notice that a few of the
jurors were already looking at him with barely veiled
skepticism.

He wore his favorite ‘lucky’ tan suit
with a dark navy blue shirt and striped tie. The tie was another
one of his good luck charms. An amusing little private vanity. The
apparent stripes were comprised of tiny repetitive text. The phrase
‘Damn I’m good’ in barely legible white chasing itself across the
blue silk. He moved to the jury with a smile and, he thought, just
the right amount of swagger.

If he’d had a more finely tuned inner
thermometer he might have better gauged the general public’s
temperature as quite chilly. Like everyone else in the nation even
these southern jurors had in their minds the recent shenanigans on
Wall Street. A street ruled by men in elegant suits like the one he
was wearing. They were not prone to accept at face value a
seemingly genteel and intelligent big shot with a fake smile.
Bernie Madoff had smiled a lot of people to ruin. This was lost on
him though.

Adam Clay, Esq. had won more cases of
this nature than any other attorney in Atlanta and he saw this as
just one more opportunity to add a feather to his well-plumed
cap.

His opening was intended to sound
contemptuous, almost dismissive. He was confident that it was going
to be impressive. Just the look in his eyes said it.

“Good morning to your Honor, to you
good folks on the jury, and to my esteemed colleague, Ms. Brown.
I’ll be brief as there is nothing worth arguing here. We come
together here today to decide only a matter of law. It pleased the
attorney for the plaintiff to try and confuse you...to try and
equate the question at hand with civil rights. She will seek to
excite emotions into a matter of pure common sense. Two individuals
let their personal lives interfere with their professional
responsibilities and regrettably they had to be let go. Simple as
that.

This action is frivolous. They are
wasting your time here, ladies and gentlemen.”

He glared at Chiara and Grace as if to
encourage the jury to resent having been yanked from their daily
lives.

“Miss Bianchi had a career with the
best firm in Atlanta and arguably one of the best in the country.
Then she had a melt down, plain and simple. She is not a martyr to
the cause of gay rights and civil liberties. Quite bluntly…she
failed in her job. That is why she is no longer with her firm. And
she comes to you as a liar in her attempt to blame them for her
failure.”

He looked steadily into the eyes of
the jurors before continuing,

“She was not discriminated against
because she is gay. She was never given any ultimatums. She
willingly tendered her resignation because she didn’t want to face
the reality that she wasn’t living up to the expectations required
of a senior partner.

“And as to the co-plaintiff… Miss
Bianchi’s paramour… Grace Butrell, she was discovered to be
under-qualified. She was employed by Miss Bianchi though other
applicants had more impressive résumés. I think we can more or less
picture why that happened.”

He paused here to give the jurors a
knowing wink.

“Now both of them are angry and bear a
grudge against a group of people who did nothing other than offer
them bright futures. They have only themselves to blame for their
present situation. You will hear from witnesses who will attest to
the growing incompetence of both women.”

Clay held up his wristwatch
apologetically.

“Y’all have to excuse me. I promised
to be brief…but so many facts go to the absurdity of this suit that
I got carried away…so I’ll just sum up now. These are two devious,
deviant women who are trying to trick y’all into awarding them a
multi-million dollar travesty of justice. Once you’ve heard all the
evidence I’m sure you’ll award them nothing but the contempt they
deserve. Thank you.”

With an arrogant banty rooster air,
Clay almost strutted back to his chair. Peter Smith patted him on
the back as he sat down while the other two nodded and smiled.
There were also smiles on the faces of a couple of the male jurors,
as well as on the faces of several people sitting in the
gallery.

Chiara, Grace and particularly Tamika
showed no visible sign of emotion. They sat elegantly still, with
the certainty and confidence one often sees on the faces of the
marble lions outside courtrooms.

The judge called an adjournment for
lunch and the gavel fell.

A
fter the noon recess, Tamika led off with a series of
character witnesses who testified on Chiara and Grace’s behalves
respectively. Sheila Haskell was the last of these sworn
in.

“Mrs. Haskell, you have worked as a
personal secretary to Ms. Bianchi for how long?”

“Since she was made an associate. But
I’ve known her since the first day she came on. Over fifteen years
now.”

“In all that time were you ever aware
of any dissatisfaction being expressed by the partners over her
performance?”

“Never”

Tamika carried on in this vein until
she was satisfied that Chiara’s competence over many years had been
established.

Her witnesses had painted a lovely
picture of each woman. The older came off as profoundly
accomplished with a nearly flawless case record and the younger as
filled with all the eager potential imaginable.

Clay wanted the little praise party
Tamika was throwing to end quickly and be forgotten so he declined
any cross examination of these friendlies. First impressions were
usually important but in court it was what went last that echoed in
the jury room. He would have that last word.

Tamika brought on some heavy
artillery. The disgruntled former employees she had dug out from
years past to paint a picture of the firm that was anything but
pleasant. One was a black para-legal named Edna Rice. The second
was Juanita Rodriguez, a Hispanic secretary. From each, Tamika
elicited that they felt their dismissal had been
discriminatory.

Clay had followed with the same single
question for each.

“Mrs. Rodriguez can you swear to this
court that your work attendance was perfect?”

“What do you mean perfect?” she
asked.

“Is there something wrong with your
English? I mean did you ever not show up for work?”

“A few days but that was
because...”

“That will be all, thanks.” Clay cut
her off, “Let the record show that her attendance at work left
something to be desired.”

Tamika let it pass. She doubted a ploy
like that would be enough to discredit the two women’s
testimony.

“I think we have heard enough for one
day.” The judge declared, “Adjourned until tomorrow morning. Nine
sharp.”

T
he
night stretched out for Tamika as she lay quietly in her apartment.
The full moon shone through her bedroom window and a breeze was
moving the curtains. She couldn’t sleep because her mind was
racing. Tomorrow she would call Chiara and Grace to the stand. She
wanted her questions and their answers to come off just right. How
this was going to turn out would depend in large part on the
impression they made.

She wanted to make a difference in
this world. She thought this case might just be one that would
bring a change in the social system, change that was long
overdue.

Her mentor, Amanda Devereux at Brown
University, had told her before she’d left school back in the
day,

“You have got the worst case of
galloping T.B. I’ve ever known, girl child.”

Tamika was baffled at the
time.

“What in the world does that mean,
Miss Lady?” she asked laughing slightly.

“It means you’ve got the worst case of
‘true-believerism’ I’ve ever come across in my whole life, Tamika.
I hope it doesn’t get you in too deep one of these
days.”

Tamika smiled to herself as she
remembered those words. She was both comforted and worried by them
now with her arguments moving into the final phase. She always
wanted to be the winner but this was more important than some
personal injury case. This one could become cited precedent. In a
court case just as in a boxing match, there was no such thing as
second-place. It stakes were always winner take all. Tamika pounded
her pillow, took a long, deep breath and tried to sleep.

A
cross town, Chiara and Grace were also restlessly trying to
find sleep that night. Both of them pretended for a time that they
were sleeping, but eventually they realized they were both wide
awake so they sat up in bed to talk a bit. But their discussion
ended with Grace asking the only question that mattered.

“Do you think we’re going to win,” she
asked Chiara quietly and with a look of worry on her lovely
face.

“Yes, I do, Grace,” Chiara told her,
trying hard not to betray the doubts she was having.

Chiara reached across and softly took
Grace in her arms, holding her tight and caressing her long blonde
hair until she fell asleep.

She was anything but convinced that
they would win the case. The Clay’s cocksure manner made her think
he had some surprises in store. When his turn came he would be
parading witnesses to contradict the positive testimony that Tamika
had elicited from Sheila and the others. There would be no shortage
of brown nosers from to firm willing to run Grace and her down in
court. And of course there were the men within the firm she had
refused to sleep with. They too would be eager a chance to bash
her.

And there might be some outsiders. She
knew she had made some enemies in her career, mostly because she’d
beaten some of Atlanta’s best in the courtroom a time or two. They
didn’t like to be beaten by anyone, but especially not by a woman.
She knew they would be more than willing to jump on the bandwagon
to take her down.

They would keep them coming and it
would be hard to listen to. And who knew what they might try to
claim about Grace. What if this didn’t go as planned? What if Grace
lost faith in her or if the relationship fell apart?

She asked herself these questions but
had no answers that night. She prayed for a speedy conclusion so
that the two of them could put this chapter of their lives behind
them.

Near dawn, mostly from sheer
exhaustion, she fell asleep. Court would reconvene in a few
hours.

A
s
Chiara was being sworn in Adam
Clay nudged Peter Smith happily. They had not been sure Tamika
would give them a crack at her client.

The initial questions were predictable
with Chiara’s accomplishments being enumerated and her unblemished
record explored. Then Tamika attacked the circumstances that had
led to her resignation and the details of her last confrontation
with Smith. She was leading up to a planned disclosure.

“Remembering that you are under
oath…do you swear that Peter Smith made those threats?”

“I do swear that he did.”

“Is there anyway you can verify this
for the jury?”

“Yes. I recorded our
meeting.”

Clay sprung to his feet. “Objection!
No recording was mentioned during disclosure. I demand it be
suppressed.”

Tamika was before the Judge by
then.

“Your Honor, shouldn’t you listen to
it before you rule on this?”

“The court will remain seated while
the issue is decided in chamber.” Judge Milton grated.

T
hey were barely behind closed doors when the Judge wheeled on
Tamika.

“Just what are you trying to pull,
Miss Brown?”

Tamika shrugged and pressed play. Clay
complained hotly but Cyrus Milton waved him still. He was already
sitting to listen. The tape played out. He shook his head and let
loose a grudging chuckle.

“That sure sounds like Pete…or rather
it sounds like your client on there, councilor.” Judge Milton
couldn’t resist a jab at Clay.

“That’s immaterial, Your Honor. It is
inadmissible!” Clay was strident.

“Relax. Luckily for you that is
correct. Sorry, Miss Brown, they won’t be allowed to hear
this.”

Tamika knew it would be useless to
argue. But she had managed to plant a seed. The jury out there knew
that they were missing something that Adam Clay had not wanted them
to hear. It might help.

On their way back to the courtroom
Judge Milton stopped Tamika briefly.

“This will be your only warning. No
more tricks.”

T
amika cut Chiara a quick look when she returned indicating
that the tape was out. Chiara would have been surprised if it had
been otherwise but she realized what had been gained by their
ploy.

Just to drive home the facts Tamika
lead her back over her version of what had happened and then
rested.

“That’s all I have to ask of the
witness at this time.”