into the room, their faces grim and foreboding, and Jennifer’s heart began to beat faster. She could see by their faces that they were going to convict. She thought she would faint. Because of her, a man was going to be executed. She should never have taken the case in the first place. What right had she to put a man’s life in her hands? She must have been insane to think she could win over someone as experienced as Robert Di Silva. She wanted to run up to the jurors before they could give their verdict and say, Wait! Abraham Wilson hasn’t had a fair trial. Please let another attorney defend him. Someone better than I am.
But it was too late. Jennifer stole a look at Abraham Wilson’s face. He sat there as immobile as a statue. She could feel no hatred coming from him now, only a deep despair. She wanted to say something to comfort him, but there were no words.
Judge Waldman was speaking. ‘Has the jury reached a verdict?’
‘It has, Your Honor.’
The judge nodded and his clerk walked over to the foreman of the jury, took a slip of paper from him and handed it to the judge. Jennifer felt as though her heart were going to come out of her chest. She could not breathe. She wanted to hold back this moment, to freeze it forever before the verdict was read.
Judge Waldman studied the slip of paper in his hands; then he slowly looked around the courtroom. His eyes rested on the members of the jury, on Robert Di Silva, on Jennifer and finally on Abraham Wilson.
‘The defendant will please rise.’
Abraham Wilson got to his feet, his movements slow and tired, as though all the energy had been drained out of him.
Judge Waldman read from the slip of paper. ‘This jury finds the defendant, Abraham Wilson, not guilty as charged.’
There was a momentary hush and the judge’s further words were drowned out in a roar from the spectators. Jennifer stood there, stunned, unable to believe what she was hearing. She turned toward Abraham Wilson, speechless. He stared at her for an instant with those small, mean eyes. And then that ugly face broke into the broadest grin that Jennifer had ever seen. He reached down and hugged her and Jennifer tried to fight back her tears.
The press was crowding around Jennifer, asking for a statement, barraging her with questions.
‘How does it feel to beat the District Attorney?’
‘Did you think you were going to win this case?’
‘What would you have done if they had sent Wilson to the electric chair?’
Jennifer shook her head to all questions. She could not bring herself to talk to them. They had come here to watch a spectacle, to see a man being hounded to his death. If the verdict had gone the other way … she could not bear to think about it. Jennifer began to collect her papers and stuff them into a briefcase.
A bailiff approached her. ‘Judge Waldman wants to see you in his chambers, Miss Parker.’
She had forgotten that there was a contempt of court citation waiting for her but it no longer seemed important. The only thing that mattered was that she had saved Abraham Wilson’s life.
Jennifer glanced over at the prosecutor’s table. District Attorney Silva was savagely stuffing papers into a briefcase, berating one of his assistants. He caught Jennifer’s look. His eyes met hers and he needed no words.
Judge Lawrence Waldman was seated at his desk when Jennifer walked in. He said curtly, ‘Sit down, Miss Parker.’ Jennifer took a seat. ‘I will not allow you or anyone else to turn my courtroom into a sideshow.’
Jennifer flushed. ‘I tripped. I couldn’t help what –’
Judge Waldman raised a hand. ‘Please. Spare me.’ Jennifer clamped her lips tightly together.
Judge Waldman leaned forward in his chair. ‘Another thing I will not tolerate in my court is insolence.’ Jennifer watched him warily, saying nothing. ‘You overstepped the bounds this afternoon. I realize that your excessive zeal was in defense of a man’s life. Because of that, I have decided not to cite you for contempt.’
‘Thank you, Your Honor.’ Jennifer had to force the words out.
The judge’s face was unreadable as he continued: ‘Almost invariably, when a case is finished I have a sense of whether justice has been served or not. In this instance, quite frankly, I’m not sure.’ Jennifer waited for him to go on.
‘That’s all, Miss Parker.’
In the evening editions of the newspapers and on the television news that night, Jennifer Parker was back in the headlines, but this time she was the heroine. She was the legal David who had slain Goliath. Pictures of her and Abraham Wilson and District Attorney Di Silva were plastered all over the front pages. Jennifer hungrily devoured every word of the stories, savoring them. It was such a sweet victory after all the disgrace she had suffered earlier.
Ken Bailey took her to dinner at Luchow’s to celebrate, and Jennifer was recognized by the captain and several of the customers. Strangers called Jennifer by name and congratulated her. It was a heady experience.
‘How does it feel to be a celebrity?’ Ken grinned.
‘I’m numb.’
Someone sent a bottle of wine to the table.
‘I don’t need anything to drink,’ Jennifer said. ‘I feel as though I’m already drunk.’
But she was thirsty and she drank three glasses of wine while she rehashed the trial with Ken.
‘I was scared. Do you know what it’s like to hold someone else’s life in your hands? It’s like playing God. Can you think of anything scarier than that? I mean, I come from Kelso … could we have another bottle of wine, Ken?’
‘Anything you want.’
Ken ordered a feast for them both, but Jennifer was too excited to eat.
‘Do you know what Abraham Wilson said to me the first time I met him? He said, “You crawl into my skin and I’ll crawl into yours and then you and me will rap about hate.” Ken, I was in his skin today, and do you know something? I thought the jury was going to convict me. I felt as though I was going to be executed. I love Abraham Wilson. Could we have some more wine?’
‘You haven’t eaten a bite.’
‘I’m thirsty.’
Ken watched, concerned, as Jennifer kept filling and emptying her glass. ‘Take it easy.’
She waved a hand in airy dismissal. ‘It’s California wine. It’s like drinking water.’ She took another swallow. ‘You’re my best friend. Do you know who’s not my best friend? The great Robert Di Sliva. Di Sivla.’
‘Di Silva.’
‘Him, too. He hates me. D’ja see his face today? O-o-oh, he was mad! He said he was gonna run me out of court. But he didn’t, did he?’
‘No, he –’
‘You know what I think? You know what I really think?’
‘I –’
‘Di Sliva thinks I’m Ahab and he’s the white whale.’
‘I think you have that backwards.’
‘Thank you, Ken. I can always count on you. Let’s have ’nother bottle of wine.’
‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’
‘Whales get thirsty.’ Jennifer giggled. ‘Tha’s me. The big old white whale. Did I tell you I love Abraham Wilson? He’s the most beautiful man I ever met. I looked in his eyes, Ken, my frien’, ’n’ he’s beautiful! Y’ever look in Di Sivla’s eyes? O-o-oh! They’re cold! I mean, he’s ’n iceberg. But he’s not a bad man. Did I tell you ’bout Ahab ’n’ the