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The judge’s voice boomed. “Quiet! Court is adjourned. Bailiff, clear the courtroom.”
Hoffman stood and disappeared through his private doorway, accompanied by the clamor of the crowd as they rushed for the exit.
Yuki felt Len’s hand encircle her biceps, and she stood up like an automaton. Her mind filled with cases that had gone against her.
“Yuki, this isn’t on you. You did a fine job. We couldn’t prove what we knew, that’s all. Grant is a smart mother. And a damned lucky one.”
CHAPTER 53
IT WAS THE day Connor Grant had been found not guilty. Those of us who’d watched it on the squad room TV, which hung from the ceiling, saw the infuriated mobs that sprang up spontaneously downstairs on Bryant.
Reporters cornered men and women on the street and asked for their views on the not-guilty verdict of Connor Grant, and were told that the DA was to blame because clearly Connor Grant had blown up Sci-Tron. Not a smidgeon of doubt could be found.
An old chant was dusted off and repurposed.
“Hey, hey, ho, ho, Len Parisi’s got to go.”
Cindy Thomas was one of the reporters on the street. She interviewed the jury foreman, Mr. Dennis Lockley, for the San Francisco Chronicle and as a stringer for NBC.
Conklin and I were watching her when Brady came out of his office and pulled the side chair out from my desk and straddled it so he had a direct sight line on the monitor.
On-screen Cindy was shouting her questions over the chaos of horns and chanting around her, and Lockley looked about as comfortable as a man standing in a puddle of gasoline surrounded by chain-smokers.
Cindy asked, “How did the votes break down?”
Lockley said, “It was unanimous for acquittal.”
“No one thought he was guilty?” Cindy asked incredulously.
Lockley started to walk away. “I didn’t say that,” he said.
“Mr. Lockley,” Cindy said loudly as he started to cross the street. “What are you saying? People thought he was guilty but couldn’t vote that way?”
“Right,” said Lockley over his shoulder, while breaking for the opposite side of the street. Jurors had the right to decline post-verdict interviews, and reporters shouldn’t pursue them if they didn’t want to talk.
Still, reporters noticed Lockley making his getaway and followed him as Cindy summarized her interview for the camera.
“What I’m hearing, David, is that the jury didn’t find that the case against Connor Grant had been proven beyond a reasonable doubt.”
This story was repeated all day as other jurors were interviewed. At quarter to four Len Parisi gave a less-thantwo-minute press conference on the steps of the Hall.
“The verdict was decided by a jury of Mr. Grant’s peers. He was found not guilty. I have to accept that. We all do. Thank you, no questions at this time.”
I got hold of Yuki, and she filled me in on the whole ghastly post-verdict eruption in courtroom 2A.
“Not guilty on each of the twenty-five counts,” she told me. “Then this retired army guy got up and he was livid. Cary Woodhouse. His wife, Lisa, had been killed in Sci-Tron, and he threatened to make Grant ‘pay.’ That’s a quote. I thought everyone in the gallery was going to cheer.”
I took the name of the guy who’d threatened Grant’s lif
e, went to Brady’s office. Brady called Antonelli.
“Your client needs police protection,” Brady said.
Antonelli put Grant on the phone, and Brady put him on speaker. Grant said, “I don’t want to see another cop for as long as I live. Get me?”
“Someone threatened you, Mr. Grant.”
“I’m not worried,” said Grant.
