An excerpt
Prologue
Before concluding his closing argument, Brandon pauses for a few seconds, takes a deep breath, studying the jury closely in the process. Essential to a successful closing is the ability to understand and manipulate the jury's emotion. In law school, that is "trial basics 101," and Brandon knows it too well. Eye contact is key in accomplishing this task. So having raised their expectations in the opening part of his argument, Brandon would love to see how the seven men and five women sitting in the jury dock are reacting thus far.
His gaze shifts from one juror to the other. When he finally sets his eyes upon the last one, he is convinced that it is time to wrap up his closing.
He takes a few steps back and then stands erect as he has been known to do a hundred times before, his eyes all the time focused on the jury.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Brandon resumes, “this case is not about whether or not a crime was committed; it is whether my client, Mr. Klan Hearingsforth, committed the crime in question. The prosecution could not find one shred of physical evidence linking Mr. Hearincsforth either to the crime or to the crime scene, which is why it built its case largely on circumstantial evidence.
"A recent study published in the latest edition of Crime Watch finds that fifteen percent of all felony convictions, and about 85 percent of all convictions based on circumstantial evidence, have been overturned with the help of forensic evidence. Fifteen percent, ladies and gentlemen, is a huge number; especially so in a country where 1 in 142 residents is a convict. Nothing can sufficiently compensate an innocent man for a wrongful conviction. But we are certain of one thing. We can prevent it from ever happening, and none other has the constitution given that power to do so than you, eminent members of the jury.
"A famous jurist once said that it is better for ten guilty men to go free than for one innocent man to be convicted. An innocent man is on trial here today, and it is your duty to affirm his innocence. I know how painful it must be for the family of the deceased; I share their grief and loss. But what could be more painful is seeing the wrong person convicted for this heinous crime. Mr. Hearingsforth is a loving father of two beautiful kids. If he is wrongly convicted, it would mean throwing one more family into grief. Our legal system is designed to protect the innocent from illicit, frivolous prosecutions, but when convictions are hinged on the tenuous suspicions of the District Attorney, we can be sure that our legal system is due for a major change. And who better to send that message and demand such change than private, honest-minded citizens like you. All Mr. Hearingsforth asks for is justice, and you owe it to him, his family, and the family of the deceased to return a verdict of 'Not Guilty.'"
As Brandon makes his way back to his seat, he looks straight in the eyes of his partner and co - counsel. He knows Troy can't wait for both of them to analyze the effectiveness of his closing later in a post- verdict chat back in the chambers. It is a trial ritual, a time they use in contemplating the Jury's decision. The verdicts in the past have been true to prediction. James Brandon is certain that this is not going to be any different.
The man dressed in a neatly-cut French suit, sitting a few rows behind Brandon in the far right of the aisle, is equally optimistic. And he is satisfied that Brandon, one of the best criminal attorneys in town, is the right guy for the job.
Chapter 1
If there is one thing Burgens hates about Portland, it is the rain. It rains year round. It is too much rain for a city without enough people to soak it up. They said it will rain today. Eight hours of rain is in the forecast. Eight hours. Whenever it rains this much, he is quickly reminded of just how much he misses the beautiful, warm sun of Phoenix.
Sitting in a corner of a popular neighborhood ice-cream franchise, he watches as two young employees from a coffee shop in the adjoing building race to get the make-shift gazebos before they get blown away by the approaching wind. The rain is just minutes away, he sighs. A part of him laughs at how the rain has just wasted what should have been another beautiful summer day. Where else does it rain in summer but Portland!
Wearing a pair of brown shorts and a white golf t-shirt, Burgens is almost lost in the crowd inside. White, he mutters, the color of summer. Brown -- a popular choice for outdoor lovers. It is as if everyone is following a script for a zombie movie in which a bunch of spooky characters, all dressed in similar costumes, embark on a haunting quest in strict uniformity. Uniformity. Burgens doesn't mind it; it makes him feel a little more secure -- not that he has anything to be worried about.
As he chews on his rasberry-layered ice-cream, he flips his left arm for a quick time check. Twelve-fourty-five. She is always late.
Scouring the food court for some fun, Burgens spots a lady sitting on the far side of the hall. Her thighs are carelessly spread wide, revealing part of her pink lingerie. A slim Blonde, with a pretty round face. A beautiful tan covers her sleek skin. Her nose is symetrically positioned between her adorned cheeks. What a beauty. Again his mind darts back to Phoenix. Beauties like this, he sighs, should only be in Phoenix.
As he looks straight at the lady, she smiles at him invitingly. But before he could return her courtesy in his old fashioned irresistible girl-you-are-hot smile, he feels a gentle touch on his left shoulder.
"Hi Blake, are you expecting someone?" He relaxes as he recognizes the quip from the familiar voice.
"Hi Claire," replies Burgens, turning around with a broad, wrinkled smile toward his date. So much for the wait.
Prologue
Before concluding his closing argument, Brandon pauses for a few seconds, takes a deep breath, studying the jury closely in the process. Essential to a successful closing is the ability to understand and manipulate the jury's emotion. In law school, that is "trial basics 101," and Brandon knows it too well. Eye contact is key in accomplishing this task. So having raised their expectations in the opening part of his argument, Brandon would love to see how the seven men and five women sitting in the jury dock are reacting thus far.
His gaze shifts from one juror to the other. When he finally sets his eyes upon the last one, he is convinced that it is time to wrap up his closing.
He takes a few steps back and then stands erect as he has been known to do a hundred times before, his eyes all the time focused on the jury.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Brandon resumes, “this case is not about whether or not a crime was committed; it is whether my client, Mr. Klan Hearingsforth, committed the crime in question. The prosecution could not find one shred of physical evidence linking Mr. Hearincsforth either to the crime or to the crime scene, which is why it built its case largely on circumstantial evidence.
"A recent study published in the latest edition of Crime Watch finds that fifteen percent of all felony convictions, and about 85 percent of all convictions based on circumstantial evidence, have been overturned with the help of forensic evidence. Fifteen percent, ladies and gentlemen, is a huge number; especially so in a country where 1 in 142 residents is a convict. Nothing can sufficiently compensate an innocent man for a wrongful conviction. But we are certain of one thing. We can prevent it from ever happening, and none other has the constitution given that power to do so than you, eminent members of the jury.
"A famous jurist once said that it is better for ten guilty men to go free than for one innocent man to be convicted. An innocent man is on trial here today, and it is your duty to affirm his innocence. I know how painful it must be for the family of the deceased; I share their grief and loss. But what could be more painful is seeing the wrong person convicted for this heinous crime. Mr. Hearingsforth is a loving father of two beautiful kids. If he is wrongly convicted, it would mean throwing one more family into grief. Our legal system is designed to protect the innocent from illicit, frivolous prosecutions, but when convictions are hinged on the tenuous suspicions of the District Attorney, we can be sure that our legal system is due for a major change. And who better to send that message and demand such change than private, honest-minded citizens like you. All Mr. Hearingsforth asks for is justice, and you owe it to him, his family, and the family of the deceased to return a verdict of 'Not Guilty.'"
As Brandon makes his way back to his seat, he looks straight in the eyes of his partner and co - counsel. He knows Troy can't wait for both of them to analyze the effectiveness of his closing later in a post- verdict chat back in the chambers. It is a trial ritual, a time they use in contemplating the Jury's decision. The verdicts in the past have been true to prediction. James Brandon is certain that this is not going to be any different.
The man dressed in a neatly-cut French suit, sitting a few rows behind Brandon in the far right of the aisle, is equally optimistic. And he is satisfied that Brandon, one of the best criminal attorneys in town, is the right guy for the job.
Chapter 1
If there is one thing Burgens hates about Portland, it is the rain. It rains year round. It is too much rain for a city without enough people to soak it up. They said it will rain today. Eight hours of rain is in the forecast. Eight hours. Whenever it rains this much, he is quickly reminded of just how much he misses the beautiful, warm sun of Phoenix.
Sitting in a corner of a popular neighborhood ice-cream franchise, he watches as two young employees from a coffee shop in the adjoing building race to get the make-shift gazebos before they get blown away by the approaching wind. The rain is just minutes away, he sighs. A part of him laughs at how the rain has just wasted what should have been another beautiful summer day. Where else does it rain in summer but Portland!
Wearing a pair of brown shorts and a white golf t-shirt, Burgens is almost lost in the crowd inside. White, he mutters, the color of summer. Brown -- a popular choice for outdoor lovers. It is as if everyone is following a script for a zombie movie in which a bunch of spooky characters, all dressed in similar costumes, embark on a haunting quest in strict uniformity. Uniformity. Burgens doesn't mind it; it makes him feel a little more secure -- not that he has anything to be worried about.
As he chews on his rasberry-layered ice-cream, he flips his left arm for a quick time check. Twelve-fourty-five. She is always late.
Scouring the food court for some fun, Burgens spots a lady sitting on the far side of the hall. Her thighs are carelessly spread wide, revealing part of her pink lingerie. A slim Blonde, with a pretty round face. A beautiful tan covers her sleek skin. Her nose is symetrically positioned between her adorned cheeks. What a beauty. Again his mind darts back to Phoenix. Beauties like this, he sighs, should only be in Phoenix.
As he looks straight at the lady, she smiles at him invitingly. But before he could return her courtesy in his old fashioned irresistible girl-you-are-hot smile, he feels a gentle touch on his left shoulder.
"Hi Blake, are you expecting someone?" He relaxes as he recognizes the quip from the familiar voice.
"Hi Claire," replies Burgens, turning around with a broad, wrinkled smile toward his date. So much for the wait.
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