Theodore Boone: Kid Lawyer by John Grisham Read Free Book Online Page B

finished with it, he tossed it back on his table, then launched into a rambling discussion of Mr. Duffy’s business woes. He was a real estate developer who had scored big, lost big, and at the time of his wife’s death was being squeezed by some banks. Mr. Hogan promised the jury that the State would prove that the defendant, Peter Duffy, was on the verge of going broke.
    Thus, he needed cash. As in life insurance money.
    There was more on the subject of motive. Mr. Hogan said that the jury would learn that the Duffy marriage had not been a happy one. There had been problems, and lots of them. They had separated on at least two occasions. Both had hired divorce lawyers, though neither had ever filed for divorce.
    To wrap things up, Mr. Hogan stood as close as possible to the jurors and gave them a serious look. “This was a cold-blooded murder, ladies and gentlemen. Perfectly planned and carefully executed. Not a hitch. No witnesses, no evidence left behind. Nothing but a lovely young woman brutally choked to death.” Mr. Hogan suddenly closed his eyes, tapped the side of his head, said, “Oh, I forgot something. I forgot to tell you that two years ago when Mr. Duffy bought the life insurance policy, he also began playing golf alone. He’d seldom played alone before then, and we’ll bring in witnesses to prove it. Isn’t that a coincidence? He planned this for two years. Quietly fitting his golf game around his wife’s schedule, just waiting. Waiting for a cold and windy day so the course would be empty. Waiting for the perfect moment to sprint home, park his cart next to the patio, hustle through the back door, “Hi, honey, I’m home,” then grab her when she wasn’t looking. One minute later, she’s dead. He’d planned this for so long, he knew just what to do. He grabbed her jewelry, grabbed his expensive watches, and grabbed the guns so the police would think it was the work of a burglar. Seconds later he was out the door, back in the golf cart flying along the fairways to number five on the North Nine, where he took a four iron, casually hit a nice shot, and finished another lonely game of golf.”
    Mr. Hogan paused. All was silent. He picked up his legal pad and returned to his seat. Ninety minutes had passed. Judge Gantry rapped his gavel and said, “Let’s take a ten-minute recess.”
    Mr. Mount gathered his class at the end of a narrow hallway on the second floor. The boys were chatting excitedly about the drama they’d just witnessed. “This is much better than television,” one said.
    “All right,” Mr. Mount said, “you’ve heard only one side of the case. Just for fun, though, how many think he’s guilty?”
    At least a dozen hands shot up. Theo wanted to vote yes for guilt, but he knew it was premature.
    “What about the presumption of innocence?” Mr. Mount asked.
    “He did it,” said Darren, the drummer. Several others voiced their agreement.
    “He’s guilty,” said Brian, the swimmer.
    “There’s no way he’s getting off.”
    “He planned it perfectly.”
    “He did it.”
    “Okay, okay,” said Mr. Mount. “We’re going to have this same conversation during the lunch break, after you’ve heard the other side.”
    The other side began with a bang. Clifford Nance waited until the courtroom was quiet before he walked to the jury box. He was about sixty with gray hair over his ears, a thick chest and arms, and a swagger that seemed to say that he’d never backed down from a fight, in court or out.
    “Not a shred of evidence!” he boomed in a deep, husky voice that echoed off the walls.
    “Not a shred of evidence!” he boomed again, as if someone could have missed it the first time. Theo caught himself flinching.
    “Nothing! No witnesses. No crime-scene proof. Nothing but this clean, neat, tidy little story Mr. Hogan has just shared with you, not one word of which is evidence. Just his fanciful version of what maybe could have happened. Maybe Pete Duffy wanted to kill