Southern Lights (27 page)

Luke Quentin had been quietly brought in as the process began, wearing a suit, and he was neither shackled nor cuffed. Since he had shown no signs of violence during the months in jail, awaiting trial, he was allowed to appear like a civilized person, and not in handcuffs and chains, so as not to unduly influence the jury or make him look more menacing, although they knew what he was there for. Alexa noticed when she glanced cursorily at him that he was wearing a brand-new white shirt. She did not meet his eyes, but saw that Judy smiled a reassuring smile at him when he came in, and patted his arm when he sat down. He looked calm and collected and anything but scared, as his eyes roved over the jury, as though he were planning to pick them himself. Technically, he had the right to question them too, but Alexa doubted he would.

The first juror was Asian and misunderstood Alexa’s questions four times, and two of Judy’s, and was thanked and dismissed. The second was recently arrived from Puerto Rico, a young woman who looked terrified and said she had four children and two jobs and couldn’t stay, and she left too. Alexa knew the kind of juror she wanted, solid citizens, preferably of an age to be the parents of people the same age as their victims, and of course the parents of girls. The public defender was going to do everything in her power to keep them off the jury. It was a game where each attorney attempted to set the chess pieces up to her best advantage. The prosecution and defense each had twenty peremptory challenges, simply based on the fact that they didn’t like the answers to their questions. Relatives of law enforcement officers, or anyone too closely related to the legal or the criminal justice system, were rarely kept on juries. Cops themselves were dismissed, so were certain professions, notoriously lawyers, anyone who might be prejudiced, or who had a relative who had been murdered or the victim of a violent crime. They tried to weed out all forms of bias or excessive sympathy for either side. The process was laborious, and slow, and took the entire week, which Alexa had expected. She thought it might take even longer.

And during the entire process, Quentin sat quietly meeting each juror’s eyes, and either smiled at them or drove his eyes right through them. He seemed to alternate between an aura of intimidation and one of innocence and gentleness, or indifference. Most of the time, he ignored his defense counsel, although she leaned over to whisper explanations to him frequently, or ask him questions in notes. He would nod or shake his head. And at the prosecution table, Alexa consulted frequently with Sam and Jack, but most of the time she made her own decisions about the jurors she rejected or kept.

Two of the jurors were dismissed when they said they knew the judge, and he agreed, many claimed health problems, others wanted to serve but were not the jurors Alexa wanted, or Judy let them go because she felt, as Alexa did, that they would be likely to convict. It was a guessing game for both of them, and they could use only the material at hand, they couldn’t pull their ideal jurors out of a hat. They had to carefully assess how these people would react to the evidence, the crimes, and the defendant. It was an educated guessing process and at the same time a crapshoot, where you tried to divine human nature and predict how they would respond to what they heard, and if they would fully understand the rules that applied to them, which the judge would explain once the trial started. They had to convict beyond a reasonable doubt, or acquit. Their final decision had to be unanimous. All twelve had to agree, and anything less than that meant a hung jury. And the last thing both Judy and Alexa wanted was either a hung jury or a mistrial, and to have to try the case in front of a different jury all over again, although Quentin might have liked a mistrial, to stall the process of convicting him and sending him to prison forever.

The judge decided on the sentence, not the jury, and would do it a month after the verdict. The one thing they didn’t have to worry about was the death penalty. New York’s State Court of Appeals had overturned the death penalty in 2004, and had been battling motions to reinstate it in the years since. For the time being, there was no capital punishment in New York State. If convicted, Luke would serve life in prison without parole, but would not be sentenced to death. So the jury didn’t have the burden of knowing that their decision could cost his life, which made things a little easier for them. All of his other cases had been associated to the one in New York, and he was being tried for the rape and death of all eighteen women in this trial. He had been charged with eighteen counts of rape, and eighteen counts of first-degree murder, with malicious intent.

It was late Friday afternoon when twelve jurors had been selected, and four alternate jurors had been chosen, in case one of the regular jurors could not serve and had to be replaced. Of the twelve regular jurors, eight were men and four were women. Alexa didn’t mind that. She thought that men might be more protective of young women, more outraged by the crimes and more sympathetic, and angrier at Luke Quentin. She was counting on it. Four of them were old enough to have daughters that age, two were slightly younger than she wanted and would be hard to predict, but she had used up her challenges by the time they were selected. All were employed and seemed respectable and intelligent. Of the four women, all were older. Judy had objected to young women on the jury. But the four alternate jurors were mostly young women in their thirties. All races were represented, white, Hispanic, Asian, and African-American. Looking at them, Alexa was convinced they were a good jury and had worked hard to pick them, and get around some of Judy’s objections. Judy wanted men on the jury, because she thought they would be more sympathetic to Luke. Alexa didn’t agree, but in the end, they both liked the makeup of the jury. There were always loose cannons, and unpredictable surprises, but from what she could tell, with the knowledge they had of them, Alexa thought this jury was a good one. They would know after the trial.

Once the jurors were dismissed for the day, Quentin was handcuffed and then shackled, and led out of the courtroom by four deputies. He looked confident and relaxed, and stopped to glance at Alexa on the way out. Her face was expressionless, and his was slightly mocking, and then he moved on.

They had done good work that week, and Sam and Jack were pleased too. They took a minute to talk before they left the courtroom. Sam was always impressed by her precision and good judgment and had said as much to his superiors. The proof would be in the trial, of course, but he was extremely pleased by how she handled every detail. And so was Joe McCarthy, who had slipped into the courtroom several times that week to watch the jury selection process. He had added his approval to her choices, and thought she had wisely avoided some bad ones.

“Well, we’ve got our jury of twelve peers for Mr. Quentin,” Alexa said to Jack and Sam, as she put her papers and legal pads back in her briefcase. It was so heavy now that she had to pull it on wheels.

“Ready for your close-up, Ms. Hamilton?” Sam teased her as they left the courtroom. It was no surprise they were met by a wall of press who wanted to know what she thought about the jury. What felt like a million lights went off in her face.

“We’re satisfied with the jury” was all she would say as she pushed through them without further comment or expression. Jack tried to lead the way, and Sam stayed close to her with several policemen, but the heat was on her and she took it well. There was a van waiting for them outside so they could make their getaway. Alexa had a cop with her all the time now, and she had to go back to her office before wrapping up for the weekend. Jack said he’d go with her, and they dropped Sam off at the FBI office, and wished each other a good weekend. And he said he’d be available on his cell phone all weekend, they all would. Alexa had thought briefly about flying down to Charleston to see Savannah, but she knew she couldn’t. She had too much material to go over and her opening statement to polish some more.

She was just walking into her office when her cell phone rang. It was Savannah.

“I just saw you on TV,” she said proudly, “leaving the courthouse. You were great.” Alexa laughed.

“That’s rank prejudice. All I said was ‘We’re satisfied with the jury,’ and no further comment. I don’t see how you could think I was great, but thank you.” It touched her that Savannah was following it so closely.

“Daisy and Dad thought so too,” she confirmed. It had been a consensus. Luisa was out playing bridge. “You looked calm and collected, and you didn’t let them push you around. You just said what you wanted to and kept going and you didn’t let them make you nervous. At least you didn’t look it. And your hair looked good.” She had worn it in a ponytail with a satin ribbon, instead of a bun, all week. It seemed less uptight.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Well, we’ll see what happens next week. I think they’re a pretty good jury. I hope I’m right. I was thinking I might come down this weekend, but I just can’t,” she said, sounding disappointed, but Savannah wasn’t surprised.

“I didn’t expect you to, Mom. Things must be crazy for you right now.”

“Pretty much,” she admitted. “What do you have planned for the weekend?”

“I’m going to one of Turner’s games tomorrow, and he’s coming over tonight to hang out.” There was an old playroom in the basement that her brothers had used when they were young. There was a Ping Pong table and a pool table, and her father had suggested they could visit there. Luisa never went down to the basement, and it seemed more respectable than having Turner in her room.

“Say hi to him for me,” Alexa said, and then got back to work at her desk. Sam Lawrence called her a little while later.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked respectfully. It was Friday night by then.

“Not at all. I’m still at work,” she said in a pleasant tone. He was a nice man, and working with him had gone well so far. They had a great deal of mutual respect, and he and Jack had become friends in the past months.

“Sounds like we keep the same kind of hours. I’m going to move into my office pretty soon,” he laughed. But they were all going to work night and day during the trial. Judy Dunning was too, and even more so, since she had less support, and she didn’t have the FBI helping her. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m really happy with the jury, and I thought you handled the selection process very well. You’re a real pro,” he complimented her, which was high praise coming from him. FBI agents rarely approved of anyone except FBI.

“I hope so, with a case like this.” She smiled.

“Let me know if I can do anything to help over the weekend.”

“Thanks, I’ll be fine,” she assured him. And with Savannah away, she had no distractions and no obligations other than her work.

She spent the rest of the weekend working at home, going through boxes of forensic reports and evidence, working on her opening statement, and organizing the prosecution down to the last detail. By Monday morning, she felt fully prepared.

On Monday morning, they met in Sam’s office and went to the courthouse together. The press were waiting, and it was a pushing, shoving, shouting match to get through them, and Alexa made her way through the crowd, looking calm, with five cops and Jack and Sam to help. She didn’t have a hair out of place when she got into the courtroom and sat down at the prosecution table, looking unruffled. She seemed businesslike, competent, and totally in control.

Judy Dunning was already at the defense table. Luke Quentin came in with four deputies, and sat down next to her. And five minutes later the judge walked to the bench and sat down. Court was convened. Without pause, he instructed the jury as to what was expected of them. He spoke in simple, clear terms about the process, and thanked them for giving up their time to be there. He said they had a very important job, perhaps the most important job in the courtroom, more than his as judge, or the attorneys. And they nodded and looked at him seriously as they listened.

And then Alexa rose to give her opening statement. She had been preparing it for a month. She was wearing a serious black suit and heels. She introduced herself to the jury and explained what her role was, as prosecutor. She explained that the man sitting next to her at counsel’s table, Jack Jones, was the chief investigating detective on the case, and she spoke about him for a minute. She then mentioned Sam Lawrence and explained that he was the chief senior representative of the FBI on the case. That was their team.

“And why do we have the FBI here?” she asked quietly, walking in front of them, and looking each one in the eye. “Because these crimes were committed in many states. Nine states. Eighteen young women were killed in nine states.” She didn’t overemphasize it but said it perfectly, as though to engrave the numbers in their minds. “And when state lines are crossed, when a defendant goes from one state to another to commit crimes, then the FBI gets involved, to coordinate information, so there is no mistake or confusion between local law enforcement agencies. All that information is pooled so that what we submit to you, ladies and gentlemen, is correct. Having the FBI here means it’s an important case. And it
is
an important case. Not because the FBI is here, but because eighteen young women died. They were violently attacked and killed. Brutally raped, strangled during sex, and killed. Eighteen of them. The youngest one was eighteen, and the oldest twenty-five, a medical student. The eighteen-year-old was a theology major.” She wanted to stress their respectability to the jury and did so effectively. All eyes in the courtroom were riveted to her, as she spoke calmly and with enormous dignity and strength. She had talent at what she did, as Jack and Sam and everyone in the courtroom observed her.

“Their murderer didn’t happen on them, he didn’t just run into them and rape them and kill them by accident, which would have been terrible too. He planned it. He sought them out. We believe he looked for them and observed them, and chose them, and did exactly what he
planned
to do, with malicious intent. He planned to rape them and kill them, because that’s what turned him on. He killed them because that was his ultimate pleasure. The defendant in this case likes ‘snuff’ films, where women are killed during sex. He wanted to live out that fantasy and went out of his way to do it, killing eighteen young women for thrills. Murder in the first degree is when you plan to kill someone, you intend to kill them, and you do. It’s not an accident, it’s planned, ‘with malice aforethought.’ You know what that means. These young women were violently raped and murdered. It was a
plan
. And the plan was carried out. And now they’re dead.