Page 10 of The Devil's Advocate

‘This is the index for the jury bundle in the Dubois case?’

Tom nodded.

‘Where are we with Andy Dubois?’ asked Korn. ‘And no bullshit, Tom, I want to know the lie of the land. We’re picking a jury in three days.’

Tom pulled at the knot in his tie, tightening it. He was putting on weight recently. Bulking up by pouring protein shakes down his throat at every opportunity. He wasn’t exactly small to begin with, but now his arms and shoulders looked as though they were filled with helium. When Tom wasn’t in the office, he was in the gym hauling weights. His shirt was old enough to remember when Tom was slimmer and had less strain on the sleeves and the buttons around his chest.

‘Forensics are ready. Reports complete, witnesses primed. The photographer is blowing up the photographs of the murder victim nice and big, just like you asked …’

‘How big?’

‘Life-sized, or thereabouts. The jury will think they’re looking at the actual body.’

‘Remember I asked for the colors to be pumped up, remind him to do that. I want that blood on her face to lookbrightred. These photos have to shock this jury. That’s the first step, remember?’

Tom nodded.

Korn took time to school his assistant DAs on how to get a conviction in a capital murder case. Picking a jury and convincing them to send a man to his death is no easy thing. The jury would seek to preserve life as it’s the default human reaction. The first job was to shock them as much as possible, preferably using images that would stay with the jurors for the rest of their lives. The more visceral and bloody, the better.

Next, give them someone to hate. A defendant who was the cause of that vile, bloody mess. Part of this step was to elevate the victim to near sainthood. Paint them as a real person – a good, honest, God-fearing member of the community. Make the victim sit on the jury, make them familiar and relatable to each juror as a spouse, child or parent.

The more a jury loves the victim, the more they hate the defendant.

The last step was the most difficult. There were two approaches. The more Christian the jury, the more Korn relied on select retributive passages from the Bible which he had memorized over the years – an eye for an eye – all the hits. Alongside the Bible was the personal. Make the jury think that their child, spouse, partner or parent would be next if they didn’t take action to protect society and send this demon to death row.

Conducting a death penalty case was an exercise in dehumanizing a defendant – turning them into a monster to be feared and put to death. Once a jury was convinced of these elements, it was simple to show that it was this defendant who was guilty. As long as the jury feared the defendant they would convict. Hate is a great motivator, but it’s not enough to make a jury kill. Fear was much better. Fear is a powerful weapon. One Korn learned to wield a long time ago.

‘What about Dubois’ attorney, Cody Warren? Any sign of him showing up?’ asked Korn.

‘I got no clue. His secretary hasn’t seen him for days now. Judge Chandler says the case goes ahead whether he turns up or not.’

‘Good,’ said Korn.

‘There’s just one more thing,’ said Tom. He hesitated, raised a forefinger to his lips and closed his eyes. It was as if some unseen force was preventing Tom from speaking. A sense of duty, perhaps. Something else that Korn would need to train out of him.

‘I heard some of the clerks talking in the judge’s chambers last night. It seems there’s been an approval for a guest bar certification.’

‘Some lawyer from out of state shopping around for class-action lawsuits?’

‘No,’ said Tom. ‘At least, I don’t think so. The way I heard it, this guy is coming down here from New York to defend Andy Dubois.’

‘When did you hear about this?’ snapped Korn.

‘Late last night. I heard them talking when I locked up the office to go home.’

‘A lawyer from New York? Who?’

‘Some guy named Eddie Flynn.’

A small brush fire burst into life behind Korn’s eyes. He licked his lips, said, ‘Find out all you can. Flynn is a serious player. I’ve read about some of his cases. I want to know everything. There’s got to be some connection between Dubois and Flynn. Dubois doesn’t have a cent to his name, he couldn’t afford an attorney. The ACLU wouldn’t fund Flynn either ; they’d just get one of their own lawyers down here. Could be some connection with Cody Warren’s office, but that doesn’t seem likely. Go and talk to the clerks, the judges, whoever you have to, just find out why Flynn is here representing a two-bit killer,’ said Korn, then looked back at the binder, leafing through the pages.

‘No problem, I’ll find out all I can. Who is he? I never heard of Eddie Flynn.’

‘He’s a hand grenade is what he is. There are rumors about him. Some say he used to be a con artist before he was a lawyer, and he’s been conning juries in Manhattan ever since.’

Wingfield nodded, backed out of the room, leaving Korn to his thoughts.

It was a plain office, with filing cabinets on one side, some framed pictures of Korn with various mayors and state politicians on the other. Whirling his chair around, he gazed at the one hundred and fifteen individually framed mug shots that hung on the wall behind his chair. Men in various states of dishevelment, their eyes either wide in fear, or low and booze-sleepy. Looking at the wall made him sit up straighter, his heart lifting. This was his legacy. His life’s work. These were the men he’d sent to death row. He’d gotten to watch seventy-nine of them die. It was not enough, not by a long shot.