Page 67 of The Proving Ground

She turned her attention to the Masons.

“Will the defense be making an opening statement?” she asked.

“We are going to reserve, Your Honor,” Marcus said. Meaning he would make his statement after I presented my case but before the defense put on theirs.

“Unless plaintiffs’ counsel makes allegations in his statement that must be addressed right away,” Mitchell added.

I smiled. Let the baiting begin.

“Then I shall call on you after Mr. Haller finishes and you can decide,” Ruhlin said. “I will say that the court does not appreciate interruptions during opening statements. I find the tactic disruptive and off-putting to the jury. Proceed with caution if you are inclined to interrupt your opponent.”

Since Marcus had already said he planned to reserve his statement, the judge’s admonition seemed directed at him, and he wasn’t happy about it.

“Your Honor, I can’t sit there and do nothing to protect my client if Haller resorts to his usual inflammatory comments,” he protested.

I didn’t even need to fire back.

“Mr. Mason, you are already starting off on the wrong foot with me,” Ruhlin said. “First of all, in my courtroom, your opposing counsel is not referred to as ‘Haller.’ He is Mr. Haller. And—”

“Sorry, Your Honor,” Mason said. “Mr. Haller.”

“Do not interrupt the court,” Ruhlin said. “As I was saying, opening statements are not evidence. The jury will be instructed so and I will advise you to hold your objections until testimony and evidence is presented to the court. Do I make myself clear to all of you?”

This was followed by a chorus of affirmative responses from all three lawyers.

“All right,” she said. “Any other questions before we start?”

I raised my hand and asked permission to stand in front of the jury box, not at the lectern, when I made my opening statement. I wanted to stand in the proving ground, front and center. Ruhlin allowed it but said it would not be permitted again during the trial until closing arguments.

“If there’s nothing else, let’s go to trial,” the judge said. “You may proceed back to the courtroom and I will be with you shortly.”

We headed back in single file and in the order we had established after previous visits to chambers.

This time Marcus turned back to me to deliver a taunt.

“I don’t care what she says,” he said. “You cross a line, I’m objecting.”

“That’s very brave of you,” I retorted. “Out here, I mean. Let’s see it in the courtroom, Marcus.”

“Fuck you.”

“Man, I could write your dialogue in my sleep.”

We split up when we got back into the courtroom. I saw thatmy clients were in their places: Brenda and Trisha at the plaintiffs’ table, Bruce Colton behind them in the first row of the gallery. Next to Bruce, on the aisle, was Cisco, and on his other side, the row was stacked shoulder to shoulder with media types. I intentionally avoided looking at them as I took my seat. I leaned down to whisper to the mothers.

“Brenda, Trisha, how are we feeling today?” I asked.

“Scared, but ready for this,” Brenda said.

“The same,” Trisha said.

I nodded that I understood.

“Look, we might get to one or both of you today,” I said. “It depends on how long it takes with Detective Clarke. So be ready. You’re going to hear some difficult things from the detective when he’s on the witness stand and before that from me during my opening statement. Don’t be afraid to show your emotions either here or when you’re testifying. But don’t push it and don’t fake it. Remember that the jury will be looking for sincerity. They’ll spot a fake a mile away.”

Both women nodded. Then Trisha leaned in front of Brenda and closer to me.

“Are we going to win?” she whispered. “We turned down a lot of money.”