The Neon Lawyer (15 page)

Thirty-one

Closing arguments was the part of the trial Brigham
had always been
most nervous about. It was the last thing the jury would hear from either of the attorneys. He had never felt himself to be a charismatic public speaker. Vince, on the other hand, was larger than life—a born politician.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the judge said, “we will now hear closing arguments from the attorneys.”

Vince got up. He strolled over to the jury like a teacher about to give a lesson to some confused students.

“This wasn’t a mercy killing. This wasn’t a psychotic break. This was murder. Plain old murder. For the oldest reason that human beings have been killing each other since the Old Testament: revenge. Amanda Pierce was hurt, she was hurt real bad, and she couldn’t live with that hurt. And I don’t mean to trivialize it. What happened to her is the worst thing that can happen to any parent.” He leaned in close, placing his hands on the banister in front of the jury again. “But it does happen. All the time, to hundreds of parents a year. How many of them go out and murder the men responsible? Not many. The vast majority of them leave it in the hands of the law.

“I, you, Ms. Pierce, we’re all part of this society. We’ve agreed to live in harmony with each other rather than in a state of nature where we’re constantly fighting and killing each other over resources. And part of this social contract between us is that we have agreed that the law governs justice, not each individual person—that’s what truly separates us from the animals.

“You ever wondered why the West grew in prominence so quickly? Why India and China from fifteen hundred on couldn’t even come close to competing with us? It’s called the Great Divergence. We suddenly drifted away from the rest of the world, and excelled. Why? Because we established the rule of law. A law based on reason, and logic. And we followed that law. China and India are now catching up because they are trying to institute that rule of law. They saw what it did for us and they want it, too. The entire fabric of civilization is held together by this one principle: we let the law determine justice, not an individual.

“Amanda Pierce threw that principle away when she dressed, got out her gun, got into her car, drove down to the courthouse, and shot Tyler Moore. And she didn’t just shoot him from the car, wildly spraying bullets everywhere. She sneaked up, shouted at him, and put five bullets into him, and to hell with the two deputies standing next to the man—two deputies who had families. She wanted revenge, and nothing was going to stop her.”

Vince took a step away from the jury.

“I asked you this earlier, and I will ask you this again: what if she was wrong? What if Tyler Moore was innocent? Do you want her out there with a gun shooting at people she thinks have wronged her?” He pointed to the man in the Levi’s jacket. “What if next time she thinks it’s you?” He pointed to a woman in the front row. “Or you?
That
is exactly why we let the law determine justice: so innocent people don’t get killed. Amanda Pierce didn’t care about that. Amanda Pierce wanted revenge, and to hell with the rest of us. Well, when you go back into that jury room, you tell her no. You tell her it is not okay for her to have your job, and my job, and the judge’s job. We let the rule of law run this country. Not an individual. You tell Amanda Pierce that she does not have the right to kill, any more than that SOB who killed her daughter does. She cannot execute a man and get away with it free and clear. That is not how the law works, and I’m asking you to find her guilty. Not because I want it or you want it, but because the rule of law demands it.”

Vince looked each member of the jury in the eyes before sitting down.

Brigham rose. He wanted to button the top button of his suit coat, but it was missing, so he just put his hands behind him and let the coat stay open. He walked to the clerk’s desk, to a laptop used by both attorneys, and did a Google search. He flipped the projector on, and an image appeared against the wall from the projector mounted on the ceiling. It was of a nude man with a black hood on, standing on a box.

“You guys remember this photo?” Brigham said. “Abu Ghraib. American soldiers and contractors tortured, raped, and murdered Iraqi prisoners of war, most of them civilians. We had five thousand American deaths and over six hundred thousand Iraqi deaths. Do you even remember why we went in? Weapons of mass destruction? There weren’t any. Ties between Al Qaeda and Saddam Hussein? Turns out he hated Al Qaeda and never had anything to do with them.” He crossed the well and stood before the jury. “We invaded a country that had never attacked us, to take out a leader that told us, in an interview before we invaded, that he was not our enemy. Is that the rule of law Mr. Dale was talking about?

“How about TARP—the Troubled Assets Relief Program? The bailouts of the biggest banks in the world. It actually failed in the House of Representatives when it was first proposed. Our congressmen didn’t feel it was fair that the banks should gamble with our money, and then when they lose, be bailed out with our money, too. But two days later, it was proposed again, and it passed the House. Well, what happened during those two days? The rich and powerful talked to each of the congressmen who voted ‘no’ and gave them something to say yes. It varied from person to person, but they all received something, even if it was just a threat that at re-election time, the biggest banks in the world would support their opponents. And TARP, something the American people hated, passed. Is that the rule of law Mr. Dale was talking about?”

Brigham approached the jury, but didn’t preside over them like Vince. He stood a few paces back and looked them in the eyes.

“There’s a dirty little secret to this rule of law that Mr. Dale didn’t tell you. If you’re rich enough, if you’re powerful enough, the rule of law doesn’t apply to you.” Brigham paced a little, his eyes never leaving theirs. “We all know it to be true, but it’s so horrific, so against everything we know and love about our country, that we can’t face it. We can’t even name it. We sweep it under the rug and pretend everything’s okay.” He pointed to Amanda, stepping closer to her. “Does anyone have any doubt that if she were a senator’s daughter, or the wife of a rich CEO, that she wouldn’t be sitting here today? Does a single one of you doubt that?

“We all know it’s true, and that’s what Mr. Dale doesn’t want you to think about when you go back to that jury room. That’s what this entire justice system doesn’t want you to think about. Because ultimately, you are the deciders. And if you knew the system was rigged from the start, you might actually revolt and not do what people like Mr. Dale want you to do. And what does he want you to do? He wants you to crush Amanda Pierce, because she acted like a human being and did what everyone in this courtroom would have done in her place. But she’s not rich. She’s not connected. She didn’t go to the right schools; she doesn’t have wealthy parents. She slaves away in a grocery store, having lost her leg in defense of this system that abuses her and treats her like a parasite. And because of that, she sits here on trial, for something that the leaders of our country do every day. Amanda Pierce had a psychotic break. Even Mr. Dale would concede that if you found she did have that break, you must acquit her. She didn’t have the requisite intent to commit this crime.”

Brigham placed his hands in his pockets, and, borrowing a trick from Vince, looked each member of the jury in the eyes individually. “Amanda Pierce is you. She’s me. She’s every person out there that acts like a human being. Don’t destroy her because she doesn’t have the power to fight back. She deserves to be acquitted of this crime, and I am asking you . . . I’m begging you, not to let her down.”

Brigham looked at Vince as he sat down. The two men glared at each other as the judge began explaining to the jury what would happen next.

The next hour and a half was spent on jury instructions. The judge read aloud into the record every single instruction, all sixty-three of them. Brigham watched the jury’s faces. None of them were paying attention. Once he had learned about jury instructions in his trial advocacy class, he had a gut feeling that they didn’t really matter. It was still comforting to know that the mental health defense instructions had stayed in, though, despite the fact that an expert did not testify about it.

Once the judge was done, he rose and said, “All rise for the jury.”

Everybody stood as the twelve men and women shuffled out. None of them looked over to Amanda.

“What now?” she asked.

“Now we wait.”

Evening had come by the time Molly and Scotty could make it down to the courthouse. They brought a sandwich and some chips for Brigham. Hunger and fatigue, which he’d fought off for the past three days, gnawed at him now.

“How’d closing go?” Molly asked as they sat outside the courtroom on benches.

“Good, I guess.”

Scotty adjusted his glasses and said, “You never know what a jury’s going to do.”

They hung out and played a trivia app on Molly’s phone. Several hours went by and they paced the halls, used the bathroom, and went for a quick walk around the courthouse, to the back steps where everything had started.

As Brigham sat on the steps, Molly stood in front of him. She took his hands in hers and they didn’t speak for a long time. Scotty was examining the bullet holes that had been left behind by Amanda’s gun, using a little flashlight he had on his keychain for illumination.

“So now that you’ve had time to think, what’re you gonna do?” Brigham said. “Since Tommy’s gone?”

She shrugged. “I’ll figure it out, I guess.”

“No big firm job?”

“No, I’d rather get out of law than do that. I’d consider opening my own practice, if I had a partner.”

He smirked. “And who would be foolish enough to start a law practice from scratch when the market is saturated?”

“Someone foolish enough to take a homicide as their first case.”

Brigham’s cell phone buzzed. It was a text from the clerk, letting him know that the jury had reached a verdict.

Thirty-two

The jury deliberation had lasted from four in the afternoon until eleven. The judge had considered calling it a night, but when he sent the bailiff back to check, the jury said they were close to a verdict and would like more time.

Brigham sat next to Amanda. She had a glazed, despondent look. The judge came in and glanced at both attorneys. He asked the bailiff to call the jury in.

“Will the defendant please rise?” the judge announced.

There was no moment Brigham could think of when he had been more anxious or frightened than right then. He stood with Amanda. She reached out and held his hand and he didn’t stop her. The jury filed in and took their seats. None of them were smiling at the defense: a bad sign.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” the judge said solemnly, “it’s my understanding that you have reached a verdict in this case. Would the foreman please rise.”

The man in the Levi’s jacket stood up. “We’ve reached a verdict, Your Honor,” he said in his country twang.

“Please pass it to the bailiff.”

The verdict form passed from the foreman to the bailiff and then to the judge. The judge read it and handed it back to the bailiff. There was no expression one way or the other on Ganche’s face. He simply leaned back in his seat and said, “What say you in this matter?”

The clerk was handed the verdict form next. She began to read . . .

“We the jury, in the above entitled action, find the defendant, Amanda Evelyn Pierce, not guilty of the crime of aggravated homicide.”

Brigham felt his knees buckle. He had to press his hand against the table to hold himself up. Before he could look to Amanda, the clerk kept reading.

“In the lesser included count of manslaughter, we find the defendant, Amanda Evelyn Pierce, guilty.”

This time Brigham couldn’t hold on. He sat down in his seat as Amanda kept standing. Vince swore under his breath and said something like “Dumb fuckers,” before packing up his exhibits and laptop.

The judge excused the jury and thanked them for their time. One man, the man in the Levi’s jacket, stared at Amanda, some strong emotion in his eyes, but then he turned and walked out with the rest of them.

The maximum sentence for manslaughter that had been reduced from aggravated homicide was still a first-degree felony, which meant Amanda could get six to life.

Brigham felt weak and dizzy. His hand slipped out of Amanda’s. The lesser-included instruction had worked as it should have. It was a compromise between aggravated homicide and an acquittal. But the thought of Amanda spending the rest of her life in prison sickened him so much that he considered quitting right then and there, resigning from the Bar and never setting foot in a courtroom again.

“Mr. Theodore,” the judge said, leaning forward, “your client has the right to be sentenced in not less than two nor more than forty days. I suggest you waive minimum time for sentencing and be sentenced today.”

Vince looked from Brigham to the judge. “Your Honor, I would like a pre-sentence report prepared. I’d like the family of Mr. Moore to come in here and give their statements to the court. I need time.”

“It’s not your time to get, it’s hers. Ms. Pierce, do you want to wait and give Mr. Dale time to prepare, or do you want to go forward now?”

She peered at Brigham. He nodded.

“I’d like to go forward now.”

“Your Honor, I must object again,” Vince said, anger rising in his voice. “This is a first-degree felony. I need time to prepare for sentencing.”

“Noted. But I’m going forward today. Ms. Pierce, do you have anything to say?”

“No.”

“Then I’m proceeding with sentencing at this time. I’m ordering you to three years’ supervised probation through Adult Probation and Parole. I order you to complete a psychiatric assessment and provide proof to this court of your ongoing treatment during the length of probation. I am also ordering you to one hundred hours of community service and to pay restitution to the family of Mr. Moore for any burial costs. I am ordering no further violations of law with the exception of minor traffic offenses. That means if you commit another crime, I can sentence you to the maximum of six years to life at the Utah State Prison. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Good. I’m ordering your release today. Please set up the supervised probation within forty-eight hours. And Ms. Pierce, good luck to you.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

The bailiff unlocked the cuffs around her wrists. She stared in disbelief and turned to Brigham, who had the same look on his face. She kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“No . . . thank you.”

She pulled away from him, holding onto his hand until the last moment. She disappeared with the bailiff into the back room.

After Amanda and the judge left, Brigham sat on the defense table, staring at Molly, who had the widest smile he’d ever seen.

He looked over when Vince left the courtroom saying, “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

When they were alone, Brigham hopped off the table and threw his arms around Molly.