Silent Justice (49 page)

“That’s what I—”

“But he wasn’t electrocuted. I mean, that didn’t kill him.”

“It didn’t?”

“Nah. I’m pretty sure. See the color of the skin?” He pointed a few places Mike really didn’t care to look. “You wouldn’t see that if he’d been fried. The burning would be far more extensive. Smell would be different, too.”

Mike was amazed, in a repulsive sort of way. To him, the body’s smell was just something he tried to block out of his mind. To Barkley, it was a clue. “Then what did kill him?”

“Now this really is pure speculation, but …” Barkley twisted the corpse’s, head around and pointed again. Mike detected a small red puncture mark at the base of his neck.

“What the hell caused that?”

“I could only speculate. Ice pick, maybe. I can’t guarantee that’s what killed him. But it corresponds better to the available visual evidence. I think it’s likely.”

Mike thought for a long moment. “Why would the killer start out electrocuting him—then veer off into a sudden execution-style murder?”

“Maybe he already learned what he wanted to know. Maybe he got in a hurry.”

Mike shook his head. “Maybe he got careless.” His hands balled up. “Same reason he let me live. He thinks he’s invincible. He thinks he can’t be caught.”

“I guess he’s done pretty well so far.”

“That’s going to change. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m onto him. I’ve figured out the connection. And maybe, just maybe, I can follow that trail backward to the killer himself. And then I’ll be all over his ass like ants on an apple.”

As attorney for the plaintiffs, Ben would get to speak not only first but last, in rebuttal to whatever Colby had to say. Since he knew he would be back, he tried to keep his first appearance relatively short and to the point.

Ben stood squarely in front of the jury, trying to exude a confidence he did not feel.

“People have the craziest expectations of what’s going to happen during closing argument. I don’t know where they get them all. Perry Mason, I guess.”

Ben smiled slightly, and to his great relief, some of the jurors smiled back at him. It seemed they weren’t too tired to appreciate a little humor.

“I’m not going to do any of that melodramatic stuff you may be expecting. I’m not going to shout at you like a Baptist preacher. I’m not going to rant and rave. I’m not going to rehash all the evidence. You’ve already heard it—probably heard more of it than you wanted. All I’m going to do is point out the things that I think are most important. Then I’m going to tell you what I think you should do, what I hope you’ll do. Then I’m going to sit down. And it will be in your hands.”

Ben crossed over to the north end of the jury box, keeping his eyes locked on the jurors at all times. “Can there be any doubt that Blaylock polluted the Blackwood water supply? I don’t think so. Hard as they tried to suppress the truth—it still emerged. Their own employees have admitted that waste was dumped on the ground, buried in the ground. Trace elements, chemicals, things that could have come from nowhere else, were found in the aquifer and Well B. We know where they came from.” Ben turned to face them directly. “
You
know where it came from.

“The unresolved question is whether that pollution caused the deaths of my clients" children. We know that the leukemia rate in Blackwood spiked well above the national average—at about the same time that the pollution began seeping into the water well. We know the plaintiffs" children used the water, drank it, bathed in it. And we know the EPA has said the water is harmful—because those chemicals can cause cancer.”

Ben glanced up at the judge. “I know you all listened attentively when Judge Perry read the jury instructions, so you undoubtedly heard the one that established the burden of proof. The burden of proof is on us, the plaintiffs. We admit that. But what is that burden? Some of you—the ones who watch Perry Mason a lot—probably remember him saying that guilt had to be proved "beyond a reasonable doubt." Well—that isn’t the standard in this case—thank goodness.”

Again, a few of the jurors chuckled. What did it mean? Were they with him?

“Here, as the judge instructed you, liability must be proved "by a preponderance of the evidence." In other words, we must prove that it is more likely than not that Blaylock is responsible for the plaintiffs" injuries. So I ask you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury—which is most likely? You can forget the evidence, forget the testimony”—an easy thing for Ben to say, since his medical testimony had come off so badly—“forget it all. Just close your eyes and look inside your heart.”

To Ben’s surprise, many of the jurors did in fact shut their eyes. “Close your eyes and answer this simple question. Which is more likely? That those children died because of the carcinogenic contaminants released into their water supply by the defendant? Or that this is all just an unfortunate coincidence? Which is more likely?

“Now open your eyes.” They complied, and Ben felt the heat of twenty-eight eyes bearing down on him. “Which is more likely? I think you know the answer. I know you do. So please, please—listen to that voice in your heart. And do the right thing. That’s all I ask.”

Colby’s approach was, to say the least, very different from Ben’s. He took full advantage of the two hours Judge Perry had allocated for closing argument. He rehashed each and every witness who had taken the stand during the entire two-month ordeal. He spent extensive amounts of time detailing all the medical testimony, which he knew would be the crux of the jury’s deliberations. He reminded them of every medical witness Ben had called—and how he had destroyed and humiliated each of them on the witness stand. He also reminded them of the parade of medical experts he had called, with their distinguished and impressive litany of credentials and accomplishments. He cast subtlety to the wind as he reminded them that his experts were respected members of the “mainstream” medical community, while Ben’s experts were “on the fringe” at best—and paid quacks at worst.

Finally, when Colby had finished rehashing the case, he moved to the more rhetorical portion of his closing. He clasped his hands in front of him and gazed at the jury solemnly. “Please believe me when I say that I have nothing but sympathy for the parents of those children who died before their time. I mean that sincerely. My heart weeps for them. I’m sure you feel the same way.”

He took a step toward a rail. “But as a jury, you have a duty to perform, and that duty must be fulfilled strenuously. This is not a court of sympathy. It is a court of law. And therefore, in your deliberations, you must be guided, not by your heart, but by the law. According to the law, as set out in the jury instructions Judge Perry read to you, you can only render a verdict in favor of the plaintiffs if you find they have proven that their loss was caused by the defendant—by the defendant’s acts of reckless disregard. Has that been proven in this court, according to the standard set forth by the court? By any standard?”

He leaned against the rail that divided them, leaving the jury no space to escape his gaze. “Now, Mr. Kincaid would have you believe that the H. P. Blaylock corporation is evil. That we deliberately set out to harm those children. Well, let me tell you something. The H. P. Blaylock company is not evil. It was founded over eighty years ago, by a born-and-raised Oklahoman, the salt of the earth. It has been employing Oklahomans ever since. Over ten thousand Oklahomans have been employed by this company since its inception; over five thousand are currently employed. Millions of dollars have been pumped into the local economy, thanks to H. P. Blaylock. Blaylock virtually single-handedly supports the Blackwood school system. Blaylock products are used and respected—all across the globe. Is that evil? Is that the hallmark of a company that wants to hurt people?”

He paused, letting the questions roam about in the jurors" brains. “I don’t think so,” he said, finally. “And I don’t think you do, either. You’re smart people; you know better. We may have made some mistakes, but we never did anything that would hurt children. We never did. We never would. That’s not what the H. P. Blaylock company is all about.

“Mr. Kincaid talks a lot about common sense, which in his world, is just a code phrase meaning "ignore all the evidence." Well, I’ll give you some common sense. Do you think H. P. Blaylock would be as successful as it is today if it did the things the plaintiffs accuse it of doing? Do you think this company could get where it is if it allowed things like this to happen? Of course not. We didn’t get to the Fortune 500 by hurting people. You know better.”

He took a step back, reclasping his hands, almost in an attitude of prayer. “What these parents have been through is quite possibly the most traumatic loss anyone can suffer. It is only right that they should be searching for answers, only natural that they should be looking for someone to blame. It’s the natural protective instinct of a parent, and perhaps, in some cases, a way of dealing with guilt. But every tragedy does not have a simple solution. Every wrong is not someone’s fault. Sometimes, bad things just happen—even to good people. We don’t know why. The Good Lord sometimes moves in strange and inexplicable ways.”

His voice quieted. “That’s what we have here, ladies and gentlemen. An inexplicable tragedy. We don’t know why it happened, and just as every credible medical witness has told you, we don’t know what causes leukemia. It is a great cause for despair. It is an undeniable tragedy.” He paused, looking each juror in the eye. “But it is not H. P. Blaylock’s fault.”

BEN DIDN’t EVEN
wait for the judge to invite him back to the front. He wanted to hit the jury fast, before they had a lot of time to dwell on what Colby had said.

“Let me clear up one matter right at the start. I don’t think the Blaylock corporation is evil. I don’t think they did this because they intentionally wanted to harm children. I think they just didn’t care. I think they acted carelessly, because they didn’t think it was important. Or perhaps more accurately, because they thought it was more important to save and make money than to protect the community. I think they acted out of carelessness—and greed.

“They could’ve prevented their waste, the TCE and perc, from entering the groundwater. Wouldn’t’ve even been that hard. But it was cheaper to dump it on the ground, or bury it in flimsy cardboard drums. So that’s what they did, at least some of the time. They decided to save money, rather than to save lives. So the poison entered the water, the children drank the water—and the children died.

“I’ve said just about everything I could possibly say about the medical testimony. Let me just add this: the only person you’ve heard from who has actually performed detailed studies regarding TCE-contaminated water and its effects on living creatures is Dr. Rimland. He has seen what TCE-tainted water does to lab rats. He has visited cancer-cluster communities. And he believes, to the bottom of his heart, that the contaminated water caused my clients" children to die. Who can possibly know more about it than him?”

Ben uncovered a chart he had prepared the night before. Talking about numbers always made him uncomfortable, but it had to be done, so he had prepared a spreadsheet to help the jury comprehend the injuries and damages suffered.

“We’ve talked about all the monetary losses my clients have incurred as a result of what Blaylock has done. Cumulatively, they’ve lost just over a million dollars, money lost to medical bills, lost work, and so forth. Of course, I hope you will compensate them for their loss. But there is another element of damages in a case like this: punitive damages. Damages awarded not to compensate the plaintiffs—but to punish the defendant.

“There’s been a lot of talk about punitive damages lately. Some people think they’re a good thing; some people don’t. You may dislike the whole idea of punitive damages. You may be thinking, "Well, sure, Blaylock shouldn’t have done that, but why should the plaintiffs get all that money? Maybe it should go to charity, some kind of cancer-treatment fund. And you know what? You may be right. But that isn’t the law right now. Maybe it will be someday, but at this time, the only provision the law makes for punishing bad actors is punitive damages. It’s this—or nothing.”

Ben checked the eyes of the jurors. So far, he didn’t seem to have lost anyone. But were they truly with him? Did they agree? There was no way of knowing.

“Should Blaylock be punished? Should they be fined? Let’s remember—the only reason they did this in the first place was to save money. They thought it would be cheaper to handle waste the wrong way than to spend money protecting the community. And you know what? They were right. It was cheaper—and still is. Even a verdict for full compensatory damages won’t change that. There is only one way you can prove that they were wrong. Only one way to insure that this kind of wrongful conduct will not be tolerated. By awarding punitive damages. To prove that committing wrongful acts is not profitable.

“How much should you award? That’s entirely up to you. There’s no minimum and no maximum. But let me tell you one thing. If the number isn’t big—it isn’t going to mean anything. They can shrug off sums that would support you and me for the rest of our lives.” He pointed to the figures on his chart. “This corporation makes half a billion dollars a year! That’s over a million dollars a day. So here’s my recommendation—fine them one week’s profit. Just one workweek. Five million dollars. It seems huge to us, but it’s not going to bankrupt them. But it is enough to make them take notice. It is enough to send this message: Next time you’re thinking about saving money by doing something that will endanger the community—don’t.

“When all is said and done, this case is very simple. It all comes down to something you probably learned back in kindergarten. When you make a mess—you’re supposed to clean it up. Well, Blaylock made a huge mess in Blackwood, but they won’t clean it up. They could’ve and they should’ve—but they won’t. So you make them clean it up. Please. Make them take responsibility for what they’ve done.”

Ben drew in a deep breath, then stepped away from the rail. “I’ve said everything I have to say. Maybe I’ve said too much. This case is so important, in so many ways …” He didn’t finish the sentence. “But now it’s in your hands. Please—I urge you—be bold. Don’t shy away from doing what you know is right. When you return from the deliberation room, send not one but two messages with your verdict. Tell the Blaylock Corporation that this kind of conduct is unacceptable. And tell my clients, tell the parents who lost their children, that their loss was not in vain.”