فصل 11

Chapter eleven

A Juror’s Dismissal

Colonel Herrera’s routine never varied. He got up at exactly five-thirty, did his exercises, and took a cold shower. At six he had breakfast in the motel dining room. At eight, he returned to his room.

At 6:15 on Thursday morning, Nicholas greeted the Colonel in the dining room, and had a brief conversation about the weather. He then went quietly down the hall, took a pile of newspapers from a drawer in his room, and used a key he’d stolen from the front desk to enter the Colonel’s room. He put the pile of newspapers and magazines under the Colonel’s bed. One was a copy of yesterday’s Mogul. He went to his room and phoned Marlee.

Marlee called Fitch. “Hey, Fitch. Go to the middle pay phone at the corner of Fourteenth and Beach Drive. I’ll call in seven minutes.”

“Damn it!” Fitch screamed. He shouted for Jose and they rushed to his car. The phone was ringing as they got there.

“Hey, Fitch. Juror number seven, Herrera, is really annoying Nick. I think we’ll lose him today.”

“Don’t do it, Marlee! He’s on our side.”

“Oh, Fitch, they’ll all be on our side when it’s over. Anyway, be in court at nine to see what happens.”

Fitch controlled himself, and walked calmly to the car. Whatever she wanted. It didn’t matter.

Judge Harkin lived in Gulfport, fifteen minutes from the courthouse. As he was getting ready to leave for the courthouse, the phone rang.

“Judge, I’m sorry to bother you at home,” said a nervous voice. “It’s Nicholas Easter.”

“What’s the matter?” The Judge wondered how Nicholas had obtained his phone number, but said nothing.

“It’s about Herrera,” Nicholas said. “I think maybe he’s reading things that aren’t on the approved list. This morning, when I went into the dining room, he was there alone and he tried to hide a copy of Mogul from me. Isn’t that some kind of business magazine?”

“Yes it is,” replied Harkin. If Easter was telling the truth, and why should he doubt him, then Herrera would be sent home immediately. The reading of any unauthorized material meant dismissal. “Do you think he’s discussed it with anyone else?”

“I doubt it. Like I said, he was trying to hide it from me. But I’ll listen carefully.”

“You do that. I’ll ask Colonel Herrera to come in and see me this morning. We’ll probably search his room.”

“Please don’t tell him I reported him. I feel really bad about doing it.”

“It’s OK. The trial’s almost over, Nicholas. I’m asking the lawyers to be as quick as they possibly can.”

On his way to the court, Harkin called the Sheriff and asked him to go to the Siesta Motel and wait. He then called Lou Dell, who told him that Mogul wasn’t sold at the motel. He wondered how a sequestered juror could have got a copy of it.

When Harkin arrived in court he told Rohr and Cable what he’d learned, without telling them who’d told him. Both lawyers were unhappy. Cable was annoyed because everyone thought that Herrera would vote with the defense. Rohr was cross because they were going to lose a juror, and there was a danger the trial might have to be repeated.

Herrera was called to the Judge’s chambers, where he was told he had to answer some questions. He felt like a criminal.

“Have you been reading any materials not specifically authorized by me, in particular a business weekly magazine called Mogul?” asked the Judge.

“Not since I’ve been sequestered,” Herrera replied.

“Will you agree to a search of your room?”

The Colonel went red. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“I have reason to believe that you have been reading unauthorized materials at the motel. I think a search of your room would settle the matter,” replied the Judge.

Herrera knew there was nothing in his room. “Then search it,” he said, between his teeth.

In the motel, the Sheriff and two deputies found the newspapers and magazines under Herrera’s bed. They took them to the Judge’s chambers. The Judge showed them to Herrera. “These items were found under the bed in Room 50, just minutes ago.”

Herrera was speechless. “They’re not mine,” he said angrily. “Somebody must have put them there.”

“The fact is that these were found in your room. I have no choice. You are dismissed from jury service.”

There were many questions Herrera wanted to ask, but he suddenly realized he’d be on the golf course by lunchtime. “Whatever you say, Judge.”

The jurors took their seats a few minutes after ten. In the courtroom, the jury watched silently as Judge Harkin showed them a copy of Mogul. He asked if anyone had read it, or heard what was in it. No one.

“Juror number seven, Frank Herrera, has been dismissed and replaced by the extra juror, Mr. Henry Vu.”

Fitch’s newspaper dropped several inches, as he stared at the new juror. He was scared because Herrera had gone, and thrilled because his girl Marlee had done exactly what she’d promised. Fitch looked at Easter, who stared back.

Cable’s first witness on Thursday was Dr. Denise McQuade. The defense wanted to answer Leon Robilio’s claims that kids were targeted by the cigarette industry. Dr. McQuade was beautiful and clever. She’d written four books and many articles. She quickly made her point. Advertising is everywhere. Children are familiar with commercials for all kinds of things that kids eat and drink, like hamburgers and soft drinks. No one accuses those companies of dishonestly targeting the young.

Dr. McQuade’s testimony made perfect sense to the jury.

Rohr spent his lunch hour with Cleve, discussing what they should do about Derrick. “This is what we’ll do,” said Rohr. “We’ll give him fifteen thousand dollars now, and the other ten after the verdict. We’ll promise him twenty-five thousand for the other votes. We’ll also record the interview. If we get our verdict, we won’t pay, and if he causes problems, we’ll threaten to call in the FBI.”

“I like it,” Cleve said.

“Get the cash. You must see him this afternoon.”

Cleve met him in a cheap bar. But Derrick had other plans. He wanted Angel’s twenty-five thousand dollars in cash, now, and he also wanted an advance payment for each of the other jurors. Eighty thousand dollars in cash, now.

“You’re crazy,” Cleve said.

“And you’re a crook,” replied Derrick.

“There’s no way we can pay eighty thousand cash.”

“Fine, I’ll go to the tobacco company.”

“You do that,” said Cleve.

On Thursday morning, the search for Claire had a small success. They got information about another friend of Claire’s. Her name was Beverly Monk and she lived in Greenwich Village in New York. Swanson flew to New York and phoned her, pretending to be Nicholas. He’d practiced imitating Nicholas’s voice many times.

“It’s Jeff Kerr.”

“Oh yes.” Maybe she remembered him, maybe she didn’t.

“I’m in the city and I wondered if you’d heard from Claire recently. I’m looking for her.”

“I haven’t talked to Claire in four years. Look, I’m real busy now.”

“Sure.” Swanson called Fitch. They decided to offer Beverly Monk cash.

Fitch knew Marlee would ring on Friday morning.

“Hi, Fitch. Lonnie Shaver’s bothering Nicholas.”

“Oh! Damn! No! You can’t do that! You’ve got to stop this, Marlee.” Fitch was aware of how desperate he sounded. “Don’t do it, please. Let’s talk about this.”

“We’ll meet in an hour. Fulton Street, number 120.”

Fitch walked to Fulton Street. He went alone.

“Are we ready to talk money?” he asked, with a nasty grin.

“Yes. You send me ten million dollars before the verdict.”

“You must be joking.”

She never stopped looking at him. “Ten million, Fitch, and there’s no discussion. How much is in The Fund?”

“The what?” he said. No one knew about The Fund!

“Don’t play games, Fitch. I want ten million dollars sent to a bank in Singapore before the jury withdraws to discuss their verdict. Otherwise, the deal’s off.”

“What happens if the deals off?”

“One of two things. Either Nicholas will split the jury, or he’ll persuade it to vote nine votes to three for the plaintiff.” The game was over. She was in control. “So we have a deal?”

“Yes,” said Fitch. They shook hands.

Swanson approached Beverly Monk in a corner coffee shop. “Excuse me, are you Beverly Monk?”

She looked up, surprised, and said, “Yes, who are you?”

“A friend of Claire Clement’s.”

“What do you want?” She was nervous, but the shop was crowded. “You called me yesterday, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. I lied. I said I was Jeff Kerr. I’m not. I’m Jack Swanson. I work for some lawyers in Washington.”

“Is Claire in trouble?”

“No.” Swanson gave a quick explanation of Claire’s summons to jury service for a huge trial in the future. “We’ll pay for information,” he said.

“How much?”

“A thousand dollars, cash, to tell me everything you know about Claire Clement.” Swanson took out an envelope and placed it on the table. Beverly stared at it, then grabbed it and put it in her purse.

“There’s not much to tell,” she said. “ I worked with her for six months. Then I left town. I called her once or twice, then we lost contact.”

“Where did she go to college?”

“Somewhere in the Midwest. Claire was a very secretive person. She didn’t talk about her past. I didn’t ask.”

Swanson thanked her. As he was leaving, she offered to make a few phone calls. She obviously wanted more money. Swanson said fine, and gave her his business card.

Hoppy sat in the back of a long, black Chrysler car with Mr. Cristano. Nitchnian and Napier were in the front. Hoppy had met with Nitchnian and Napier the day before, and admitted that Millie hadn’t reacted too well to the document.

“When do you see her again?” Cristano asked.

“Tonight, 1 think.”

“The time has come, Hoppy, for you to tell her the truth.”

Hoppy’s eyes watered as he stared out the window. He cursed himself for his stupidity. If he had a gun, he could almost shoot Todd Ringwald and Jimmy Hull Moke. He could definitely shoot himself.

“I guess so,” he whispered.

“You’ll have to tell her that if she doesn’t support the defense’s case, you will go to prison for five years.”

Hoppy started crying. In the front, Nitchman grinned.