Vanished

And as soon as they were seated, Judge Morrison introduced the attorney for the United States government, William Palmer, to the room. He turned, looked around the courtroom, and then turned again to smile at the jury. “Hello, my name is William Palmer. I am the attorney for the United States government in this case, and I am here to represent the People. I represent you in this case, and I will need your help to convict this man,” he waved vaguely at Charles, “whom we believe kidnapped a four-year-old boy, Teddy Patterson, twelve days before Christmas.” As though that somehow made it worse, but actually it had, for his parents. “If any of you know this man, or me, or the defendant's attorney, Mr. Armour, or the judge, or anyone associated with us, you must speak up now, or it will prejudice the case, and you will be excused. Just tell the judge, when he calls on you and asks your name and occupation.” He then sat down abruptly and Tom Armour stood up and introduced himself, and Marielle saw immediately that he had a far more winning way with the jury. He didn't talk down to them the way Bill Palmer had, and his manner was smooth, instead of grating, like the U.S. Attorney's. He explained that the case against Mr. Delauney was purely circumstantial, and there were two objects which connected his client to the case, but there was no proof that he had actually kidnapped the child, or had anything to do with it at all. And as he spoke, Marielle saw that several of the jurors nodded. He sat down again then, after thanking them for their help, with a warm smile that made the two young girls giggle, and the judge frowned as he watched them.

“May I remind you, ladies,” he barked down at them, “this is not a social event, or an amusing matter. Now,” he looked over the rest of them, “does anyone here have a health problem that would hinder them from being sequestered?” The elderly black woman held up a hand, and Morrison looked down at her with a warm smile. “Yes? Your name please, ma'am?”

“Ruby Freeman.”

“Yes, Mrs. Freeman?”

“It's my legs. I got terrible arthritis. It hurts me all the time.” She looked up at him sadly.

“I can see that.” He nodded sympathetically.

“Some nights, I can't hardly move. And my daughter … she takes care of me. … I help watch her baby while she works.” The woman started to cry as she said it …”If I don't go home to her …she can't go to work … we won't eat …her husband was killed at the factory where he worked …” The saga of despair seemed to go on forever.

“We understand. Perhaps your daughter could find someone else to help her for a short time. But Mrs. Freeman, do you feel you might be in too much pain to do the trial justice?”

“I think so, Your Honor. You don't know what a terrible suffering arthritis is until you have it. I'm eighty-two years old, and I've had it for twenty years, and it's almost killed me.”

“I'm very sorry to hear that. And you may be excused. Thank you for coming here today,” he said courteously. No one else raised their hand, so he continued. But the first juror was so nervous, she asked to be excused too. She said she had gallstones and her English wasn't so good, and her husband was very sick, and he needed her. She and her husband were citizens, but they were both German. And before she could tell him any more, Judge Morrison excused her. The Chinese girl with the braids spoke no English at all, and she was excused too. And the two young girls giggled through most of it, and the judge admonished them again. But then Bill Palmer stood up and began questioning the jurors, and after him Tom, and very quickly, the jurors began falling by the wayside.