Page 131 of The Devil's Advocate

‘Your Honor, I have something to say,’ said the juror. It was Taylor Avery. One of the cool, rational heads that we were relying on.

‘Yes, is there a problem?’ asked the judge.

‘Well, sir,’ said Avery. Reaching behind him, he took some folded documents from the hip pocket of his blue jeans, and began to straighten them out. ‘I’ve thought long and hard about this. I don’t talk in public and I don’t rightly know how to say this—’

‘Mr. Avery, the jury is not permitted to make a statement. I want to stop you there, before this goes any further. You understand?’

‘I can’t say something?’

‘No, a juror cannot say anything in court. If there is a question, the jury can pose a question, but that is usually written down and sent to me.’

Avery took a pen from his shirt pocket, scribbled something on the pages and made to hand them to the bailiff. The bailiff looked at the juror, then looked at the judge. It was Judge Chandler who said it was alright, he would read what had been written down.

The bailiff handed the pages to the judge.

‘Your Honor, this is highly irregular,’ said Korn.

He didn’t look so confident now, and I had no idea what was going on. Judge Chandler didn’t acknowledge Korn’s statement. Not at first. He read the note, flicked through the pages and then placed them on his desk. He turned to Taylor Avery, and there seemed to be something passed between them in that look. Some kind of recognition.

‘Mr. Korn,’ said Judge Chandler, ‘you are correct, this is most irregular. I have a question from this juror. He asks this –why is Mr. Korn threatening to take my land away from me if I don’t persuade my fellow jurors to vote guilty in this case?’

I’ve seen a lot of things in my time in the courtroom, but I never saw anything like this. There was an audible collective gasp from the people in the gallery.

Korn smiled, waved a hand as if he was swatting away a ridiculous insinuation. The judge’s attention drifted from Korn, to Avery, and then back to the district attorney.

‘That is a ridiculous accusation. Where is his proof?’

‘My word. I don’t have any proof other than my good name,’ said Avery. ‘I’m telling the truth, it’s the right thing to do.’

Judge Chandler nodded. I got the impression he believed Avery, but without proof it was one farmer’s word against the district attorney. And that bird was never going to fly.

‘Your Honor,’ said Korn. ‘There is something which has just been brought to my attention by Deputy Leonard. I didn’t bring it up before because I have just learned of it and wanted to establish the facts. Now it appears appropriate that I should act upon this information. I am asking the court to declare a mistrial and for the bailiffs to place Mr. Flynn under arrest.’

This was Korn’s back-up plan.

He’d been confident because he thought he had bought the jury. But Mr. Avery had refused. I got the impression that Korn was rarely refused anything. And yet this defeat, so public, and so shameful, had been in the works for a long time. People will only tolerate so much. At some point, one person will make a stand. Avery looked more than uncomfortable – he was damned scared. And he had every right to be. And yet there he was. Speaking up. Not for himself, but for Andy.

Now that Korn’s plan to strong-arm a guilty verdict had failed, he was pulling the plug on the whole trial. And he was coming after me.

‘Your Honor,’ said Korn, ‘the only jury tampering that has gone on in this case was performed by Mr. Flynn. And unlike the spurious allegation made by juror Avery, I have proof, and I have a witness – the juror that Mr. Flynn bribed.’

Judge Chandler looked as though a freight train had just rattled through his courtroom.

‘That is a serious, criminal allegation, Mr. Korn. Which juror?’

‘Juror Sandy Boyette,’ said Korn.

Judge Chandler turned to the jury. Sandy sat with her head down as he bellowed at her.

‘Miss Boyette, stand up ! What do you have to say about this? Have you received a bribe in exchange for your vote in this case?’

Sandy stood up, raised her head and looked at me. Some tears were forming in her eyes as she then turned to the judge. She swallowed, buying whatever time she could to find the right words.

‘Well? Is it true? Have you been bribed?’ shouted the judge.

‘Yes, Your Honor,’ said Sandy.

‘Bailiffs, arrest Flynn,’ shouted Chandler.