The Runaway Jury by John Grisham Read Free Book Online Page A

the matter before the jury.
    With everyone on his side of the courtroom officially introduced, Rohr gave his brief summary of the case, a recitation that attracted immense interest from the defense lawyers and the Judge. They seemed ready to pounce if Rohr stepped over the invisible barrier between fact and argument. He didn’t, but he enjoyed tormenting them.
    Then a lengthy plea for the potential jurors to be honest, and open, and unafraid to raise their timid little hands if something bothered them in the least.How else can they, the lawyers, explore thoughts and feelings unless they, the would-be jurors, speak up? “We certainly can’t do it simply by looking at you,” he said with another flash of teeth. At the moment, there were no less than eight people in the courtroom trying desperately to read every lifted eyebrow and curled lip.
    To get things rolling, Rohr picked up a legal pad, glanced at it, then said, “Now, we have a number of people who’ve served on civil juries before. Please raise your hands.” A dozen hands rose obediently. Rohr scanned his audience and settled on the nearest one, a lady on the front row. “Mrs. Millwood, is it?” Her cheeks reddened as she nodded. Every person in the courtroom was either staring at or straining to see Mrs. Millwood.
    “You were on a civil jury a few years back, I believe,” Rohr said warmly.
    “Yes,” she said, clearing her throat and trying to be loud.
    “What kind of case was it?” he asked, though he knew virtually every detail—seven years ago, this very courtroom, different judge, zero for the plaintiff. The file had been copied weeks ago. Rohr had even talked to the plaintiff’s lawyer, a friend of his. He started with this question and this juror because it was an easy warm-up, a soft pitch to show the others how painless it was to raise one’s hand and discuss matters.
    “A car wreck case,” she said.
    “Where was the trial?” he asked sincerely.
    “Right here.”
    “Oh, in this courtroom.” He sounded quite surprised, but the defense lawyers knew he was faking.
    “Did the jury reach a verdict in that case?”
    “Yes.”
    “And what was that verdict?”
    “We didn’t give him anything.”
    “Him being the plaintiff?”
    “Yes. We didn’t think he was really hurt.”
    “I see. Was this jury service a pleasant experience for you?”
    She thought a moment, then, “It was okay. Lot of wasted time, though, you know, when the lawyers were wrangling about this or that.”
    A big smile. “Yes, we tend to do that. Nothing about that case would influence your ability to hear this one?”
    “No, don’t think so.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Millwood.” Her husband was once an accountant for a small county hospital that was forced to close after being nailed in a medical malpractice case. Large verdicts were something she secretly loathed, and for good reason. Jonathan Kotlack, the plaintiff’s lawyer in charge of final jury selection, had long since removed her name from consideration.
    However, around the table not ten feet from Kotlack, the defense lawyers regarded her highly. JoAnn Millwood would be a prize catch.
    Rohr asked the same questions of the other veterans of jury service, and things quickly became monotonous. He then tackled the thorny issue of tort reform, and asked a string of rambling questions about the rights of victims, and frivolous lawsuits, and the price of insurance. A few of his questions were wrapped around mini-arguments, but he stayed out of trouble. It was almost lunchtime, and the panel had lost interest for a while. Judge Harkinrecessed for an hour, and the deputies cleared the courtroom.
    The lawyers remained though. Box lunches containing soggy little sandwiches and red apples were passed out by Gloria Lane and her staff. This was to be a working lunch. Pending motions of a dozen varieties needed resolution, and His Honor was ready for argument. Coffee and iced tea were poured.
    THE USE of questionnaires