Illegal Alien

Dale sighed. "Everyone says that. But, you know, we can’t appeal a jury verdict per se. They’re not subject to any kind of review. You can only get an appeal if the judge has made a mistake. In this kind of case, it has to be a mistake in law. If Pringle sustained objections she should have overruled, if she disallowed evidence she should have allowed, or if her instructions to the jury were flawed, then we can get an appeal hearing — but that’s no guarantee that the verdict will be overturned."

"Oh," said Frank. "You always hear about appeals. I thought we automatically got another shot."

"No. Which is why I asked the question: what do we do if the verdict is guilty?"

"I don’t know," said Frank. "Any ideas?"

"Yes. Have a word with your boss."

"Excuse me?"

"There are only two people in this world who are more powerful than that jury. One is the governor of California, and the other is the president of the United States."

Frank nodded. "An executive pardon."

"Exactly. There’s no way the governor is going to go against Monty Ajax when he knows that Ajax is going to be running in the next gubernatorial race — so that leaves the president."

"Christ, I don’t know. He hates stuff like this, especially in an election year."

"We have a client who did indeed kill a human being," said Dale. "This may be Hask’s only hope, and—"

Dale’s intercom buzzed. He pounded the button. "Yes, Karen?"

"The courthouse just called. The jury has a verdict."

Frank jumped to his feet, and even old Dale Rice managed to move his vast bulk quickly.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?" asked Judge Pringle.

Frank was seated behind Dale and Michiko. Hask had also returned; his tuft was moving in agitation. His front eyes were locked on the jury box; his back eyes were locked on Seltar, who was sitting alone in the bank of six Tosok chairs at the side of the courtroom. There was a hush over the room; every spectator and every reporter was leaning forward.

The foreperson, a thin black man in his early thirties, rose. "We have, Your Honor."

"Please hand it to the clerk." The paper was passed to the clerk, who carried the sheet to the judge’s bench. Drucilla Pringle unfolded the page and read the verdict. Judges were supposed to be stone-faced — they knew every eye in the court was on them at such moments. But Pringle was unable to prevent one of her eyebrows from climbing her forehead. She refolded the verdict and handed it back to the clerk.

"You may read the verdict, Mr. Ortiz."

The clerk cleared his throat, then: "We, the jury in the above entitled case, find the defendant, Hask, not guilty of the crime of first-degree murder of Cletus Robert Calhoun, in violation of Penal Code section 187, as charged in count one of the information.

"And we further find that the defendant did not use a deadly weapon, to wit an alien cutting device, in the commission of this crime.

"And we further find that in the commission and attempted commission of the above offense the defendant, Hask, did not personally inflict great bodily injury upon Cletus Robert Calhoun, and was not an accomplice to the above offense, within the meaning of Penal Code section 12022.7."

Frank let out a great cheer and reached over the wooden fence to thump Dale on the back. Michiko Katayama had thrown her arms as far around her boss as they would go and was hugging him. Seltar rushed over to embrace Hask across the wooden barrier between the audience section and the defense table.

For her part, Linda Ziegler was absolutely stunned, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open a bit. Next to her, her second chair, Trina Diamond, just kept blinking.

"This is your verdict, so say you one, so say you all?" asked Judge Pringle, facing the jury.

The jurors nodded. "Yes," they replied in unison.

"Counsel, do you wish the jurors polled?"

"No, ma’am," said Dale, grinning from ear to ear.

"The People?" said the judge.

"Ah, no," said Ziegler, after a moment. "No, Your Honor."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, do you wish to address the lawyers?"

The jurors looked at each other. They certainly were under no obligation to do so, but California law permitted them this opportunity. The foreperson turned to Pringle. "Nothing we say now can weaken the power of our verdict?" he asked.

"That’s correct," said Pringle. "What’s done is done."

The foreperson nodded. "Then, yes, we would like to say something to the lawyers."

"Go ahead, Mr. Foreperson."

The man took a deep breath, then looked at Ziegler. "I’m sorry, Ms. Ziegler.

You should have won. You had him dead to rights. I mean, we all agreed that he did do it. He did kill Mr. Calhoun."

Ziegler’s eyes went even wider. "Jury nullification," she said.

The foreperson looked at Pringle. "Your Honor, you instructed us in the law.