Judge Stone by James Patterson - 77

BULLOCK COUNTY COURTHOUSE UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA

Counsel for the State and the defense were making their closing arguments to the jury.

Robert Reeves kicked it off. The DA always goes first in closing, because they have the burden of proof. It’s the job of the prosecution to prove that the defendant committed the crime.

But the DA gets the last word, too. I give the State and defense equal time for closing. In this case, thirty minutes each. But the State always has the option to reserve part of that time to make a rebuttal when the defense attorney’s argument is done. That day, Reeves was breaking it down twenty-five/five. So the DA would speak first, for twenty-five minutes. The defense would have thirty. After Benjamin Meyers completed his argument and sat down, Robert Reeves would have the last five minutes to poke holes in Meyers’s summation.

Reeves did a reasonably good job in the initial portion of his argument. He summarized the State’s case, talked about the evidence that proved the elements of the crime. He checked off all the boxes, raised his voice a time or two, pounded his fist on the wooden lectern he stood behind. Pretty standard performance.

Then Benjamin Meyers had his turn. He outplayed Reeves from the start. He bypassed the lectern, stood directly before the jury box. Commanded the attention of all of the jurors.

“The prosecution, in the DA’s argument, recounted the testimony of the witnesses for the prosecution. He took twenty-five minutes to do it. But he left out some extremely significant statements. Swept past crucial pieces of this case without a mention.”

Meyers took a step to the right, gripped the edge of the jury box. “The DA talked about the testimony of Dr. Thompson, who examined Nova Jones when she fell ill and was brought to the hospital. But the DA made no mention of the dangers that Dr. Ron Thompson, the State’s own witness, told you that Miss Jones would have faced if she’d carried that pregnancy to term. Do you remember that? Dr. Thompson said Nova Jones had a greater risk of death or disease. He cited multiple health risks. It’s in the record of his testimony!”

He paced to the other end of the jury box, directed his argument to the people sitting there. “The same complications Thompson named were raised in the defense case by our expert witness, Dr. Steinfeld. So the State’s own evidence corroborates the defendant’s expert witness! The State’s case supports the defense we’ve raised! You heard that, ladies and gentlemen, in this very courtroom.”

He paused, looking up at the ceiling for a couple of moments, before turning back to face the jurors. “Here’s another thing. Something curious about this case, just can’t stop thinking about this.”

He sounded sincere, looked genuinely baffled.

“The prosecutor, in his argument, brings up the work of the investigators. The testimony of the sheriff and his deputies, people in law enforcement. Ladies and gentlemen, those so-called investigators—the people charged to enforce the law, to serve and protect the citizens of this community? The investigation was so misguided, they failed to uncover a gang rape! At the heart of this case is a child who was raped in public by two teenage boys, in broad daylight!”

“Objection.”

“What kind of law enforcement is that? They’re chasing down the medical doctor who cares about the health of people living in this community! Your sheriff and DA are too busy persecuting Bria Gaines to uncover the gang rape of the child who’s their own prosecuting witness. Can’t see a violent felony happening right in front of their faces!”

“Objection, Your Honor!”

Both attorneys at the prosecution table were on their feet, demanding my attention.

Eleanor Lindquist said, “Judge, this behavior of the defense is outrageous. Instruct the jury to disregard. And order defense counsel to confine his argument to the relevant facts and law.”

Before I spoke, Benjamin Meyers swung around to confront her.

“Relevant facts? Are you claiming that the circumstances of Nova Jones’s rape are irrelevant? You’re the ones telling this jury a phony story from the start. Who you covering for, Ms. Attorney General? How many times did you talk to that girl? How many opportunities did you have to get the truth from her?”

He turned back to the jury box. “Do you see, ladies and gentlemen? The prosecution doesn’t care about the truth in this case.”

“Judge Stone!” Lindquist was yelling at that point.

“Approach the bench,” I said.

All three lawyers stood before me. Lord almighty, emotions were running high; somebody might throw a punch any minute, and Lindquist was likely to take the first swing.

“Basis of the State’s objection?” I said. Speaking calmly, trying to smooth this over.

“Relevance, Your Honor. Rape doesn’t create an exception to the Alabama abortion law.”

“Overruled. The State did mischaracterize the circumstances of Nova Jones’s pregnancy. During opening statement and in direct examination. It’s fair game for the defense to point that out.”

“It’s also inflammatory, Your Honor,” Lindquist said. Her eyes were flashing, her dander was up. “The defense accusations have crossed the line of proper argument. I request that Benjamin Meyers be reprimanded and censured.”

“No reprimand,” I said, still trying to remain chill. I didn’t want wild, hair-raising closing arguments from either side. They might rile up the community, unleash further violence. “Bring it down, counselors, keep your arguments civil. Confine them to the evidence and credibility of the witnesses. Apply law to the facts. Don’t go off half-cocked, Mr. Meyers.”

Everyone returned to their respective places. Meyers switched topics, talked about Bria Gaines’s good character, her positive contributions to the community. He pointed to the expert evidence, pounding home the physical dangers of the pregnancy for a thirteen-year-old, the peril it posed for Nova.

I interjected at the twenty-nine-minute mark. “You have one minute remaining, Mr. Meyers.”

And he went back to the forbidden waters. “You know, the defendant in a criminal case doesn’t have the obligation to prove anything. It’s the prosecution that has the burden of proof. But in this case, the defense has proven that Dr. Bria Gaines was doing her duty toward Nova Jones when she terminated the pregnancy. You know what’s really a crime? Making that girl carry her rapist’s child. Anyone who had anything to do with that ought to be behind bars. But that doesn’t include Dr. Gaines.”

“Time.”

Meyers paused. Took a moment to make eye contact with everyone in the jury box before he returned to his seat.

I said, “Mr. Reeves, you have five minutes.”

He’d had time to recover, to collect himself. The DA returned to the wooden lectern and grasped it with both hands.

“Some cases are complex, ladies and gentlemen. Because laws can be complicated, or the facts can be unclear.”

He let go of the lectern. He folded his hands on the wooden surface. “This isn’t one of those cases, though. The case of State of Alabama v. Bria Gaines is simple. It’s open-and-shut.”

Finally, he stepped away from the lectern. Slipped his hands in his pockets.

“There’s no dispute—none—that Bria Gaines aborted the unborn child of Nova Jones at her medical office in Bullock County, Alabama.”

He lifted both shoulders in a shrug. “Doesn’t matter how Nova came to be pregnant. Not in our state. That’s the decision made by our state legislature.”

His voice grew testy when he said, “And no matter how they try to twist it, we all know that the abortion wasn’t performed due to a medical emergency, not as that term is defined by Alabama law.”

I could see the back of him. His neck was fiery red. “So, ladies and gentlemen, there’s only one decision that you can legally and rightfully reach in this case. I ask that you return a verdict of guilty against Bria Gaines.”

He stood up straight before he added, “And I want you to send a message to the community with your verdict. A message to the whole country, watching this case here in Union Springs, Alabama. Return a verdict swiftly. And recommend the maximum sentence of imprisonment.”

He didn’t expand on just what that would be. He didn’t have to, everyone knew.

It was imprisonment for ninety-nine years or life.