Page 55 of The Proving Ground

“Very good,” Ruhlin said. “We have twelve jurors selected.”

I stood up and went to the lectern with my legal pad.

“Your Honor,” I said. “Plaintiffs would like to use our last challenge to thank and excuse juror nineteen.”

The football coach was out. I was rolling the dice, gambling that the Beverly Hills personal assistant would be a better choice, if only because it added another female to the panel, tilting it to seven women, five men. I would have the female majority I was looking for.

The judge called the personal assistant to the box and questioned her. My assumption had been on the money. She worked for a wealthy woman and handled a variety of chores, from returning online purchases to walking a pet poodle to grocery shopping. No red flags were raised and I accepted her to the jury. Marcus Mason did as well.

The box was now full, but Marcus Mason still had two challenges in his pocket. My view was that you never left a challenge on the table, but if he used one now, the judge would have to call in a second panel of potential jurors and that would likely push completion of jury selection to Monday. More than once, the judge had sternly reminded us that jury selection would not carry over the weekend.

“Do the parties to the lawsuit accept the jury?” Ruhlin asked.

“Plaintiffs accept the jury as composed, Your Honor,” I said.

Marcus hesitated, probably weighing whether it was wise to upset the judge before the trial even started.

“Mr. Mason?” Ruhlin prompted.

“Yes, Your Honor,” he finally said. “The defense accepts the jury.”

“Excellent,” the judge said. “We have our jury, and the jurors are ordered to report to the assembly room next to this courtroom at nine a.m. Monday. Don’t be late. You are now excused and the court thanks you for your service. Court is now adjourned.”

As the judge left the bench I turned to my clients seated next to me.

“I think we did well here,” I said. “We’ve got a good jury.”

“How come you kicked out the football coach?” Brenda asked. “I thought he seemed like a good man.”

“It was just a hunch,” I said. “He coaches boys in a violent sport. He deals with teenage boys every day, listens to their complaints, knows their insecurities. I just wasn’t sure where his sympathies would truly be, so I went with my gut. Sometimes it’s what you haveto do. I like who we got better, the personal assistant. I think she’ll be on our side.”

I promised them I would be prepping for the trial all weekend and would be in touch. I asked them to take photos of what they planned to wear on the first day and text them to me. I would show the photos to Lorna and maybe Maggie and ask what they thought.

As I was leaving the courtroom, Marcus Mason caught up to me, as I’d known he would. His brother was trailing behind him.

“You motherfucker,” he said. “That stunt you just pulled? Fuck you, man. I’m going to tear you apart next week and love every minute of it.”

I smiled and nodded my head.

“Have a good weekend, Marcus,” I said. “And get some rest. You’re going to need it.”

23

DRAINED BY THEintensity of the two days of jury selection, I allowed myself to sleep in on Saturday and didn’t get to the warehouse until 10:30, the time for which I had scheduled an all-hands meeting. I arrived to find an LAPD patrol wagon parked in front of the building.

I parked behind it, entered through the door into the larger garage, and found Lorna and Cisco talking to two uniformed officers. Lorna broke away from them and walked up to me with urgency.

“Oh my God, I thought something had happened to you,” she said. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“It’s dead,” I said. “I was so tired last night I forgot to plug it in. You called the cops because I didn’t answer my phone?”

“No, there was a break-in last night. We discovered it when we got here today. The door was wide open.”

She pointed toward the door I had just entered through.

“Shit,” I said. “What was taken?”

“We’re not sure yet,” Lorna said. “But it looks like nothing’s gone.”