“Wesley Talmadge for the defense, Your Honor, with Jim McCain and Mark Hoffman in assistance.”
“Very good,” Forsythe announced. “Are there any last-minute motions or pleadings before we get going?”
“Nothing for the state, Your Honor.”
“Nothing for the defense, Your Honor.”
“Then we’re ready to go. Bailiff, seat the jury.” The lawyers all sat back down.
Taylor took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out slowly, trying to lessen the tension in her abdomen.
She’d forced herself to eat a bagel earlier, just to have something in her stomach. It tasted like cardboard. Her stomach rumbled. She hoped no one heard it.
The jury filed in from a door to the judge’s left. Taylor watched as the mixture of people, fourteen in all-twelve jurors and two alternates-took seats behind the jury box.
She scanned the faces: eight men, six women. Ten whites and four blacks. Three clearly older, four in their twenties or perhaps early thirties, the rest somewhere in the middle.
How odd, she thought. These are the people who can kill my fiance.
“Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen,” the judge announced. “We’re going to get started here in a few moments, but first I want to remind you of a couple of things. First, you are not to discuss this case among yourselves or with anyone else. You are not to form an opinion until all the evidence has been presented and I have instructed you in the law and given you your charge. You will be sequestered for the length of this trial, and during that time, you will read nothing of this case in the media, either in newspapers or magazines or on television. As you know, this trial has drawn a great deal of media attention. It is your responsibility as jurors and citizens to neither expose yourself to all this attention nor take any of it into any consideration. Does everyone understand this?”
The jurors shook their heads, almost in time with one another.
“During these proceedings,” the judge continued, “you will be given an adequate number of breaks for meals and the necessities of nature. But if for any reason you need an extra or unscheduled break, simply make a motion to get the attention of the court officer and he will help you. You are not to talk among yourselves during the trial itself, although you may make notes as you see fit. You are also not to speak to any of the counsel, the defendant, or the witnesses during the course of these proceedings. If you have any questions or need any assistance with anything, just write a note and pass it along to the court officer, who will then give it to me.
Does everyone understand this?”
Again the jurors nodded. Taylor tried hard not to stare at them. She looked over at the defense table. Michael sat stoically, not moving, his face revealing nothing, his black, pin-striped suit pressed and professional. A very expensive consultant had advised him on the clothes to wear during the trial, how to cut his hair, how to look in front of the jury.
“Finally, to briefly go over the procedure again, we will begin with the state making an opening statement. During this statement, the district attorney general will outline the case that the state intends to present before you. An opening statement is just that, ladies and gentlemen, a statement. It is not evidence. It is not to be taken by you as fact or construed as evidence. It is simply outlining the case the state intends to make. Then the defense can make an opening statement, although they are not required to. They can also defer their opening statement until the state has completed making its case before you. If they choose not to make a statement or to defer their statement, you are to draw no inferences or conclusions about that as to the defendant’s innocence or guilt.
You are to make those conclusions based solely on the evidence presented in this courtroom and on the charge I will give you as to the law.”
Forsythe looked from the jury over to the defense table.
“Does the defense wish to have a formal reading of the charges at this time?”
Talmadge rose quickly. “The defense waives formal reading of the charges, Your Honor.”
“Very well. General Collier, you may proceed with your opening statement.”
The tall man rose slowly and walked to a wooden podium in the center of the room. Taylor thought it odd that he had no notes, that he was apparently going to speak off the cuff.
He walked with a slight stoop and seemed less imposing than when she had seen him on television.
But when he spoke, there was a firmness and an authority to his voice that was in sharp contrast to his tired demeanor.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he began. “I’m Robert Collier, the district attorney general here in Nashville, and I’m not going to take up a lot of our time right now with an opening statement because I believe the facts of this case will speak for themselves. But before I do anything else, I want to thank you for your service as jurors. Jury service is one of our prime responsibilities as citizens of this great republic. We ask a lot of you as jurors. The fate of the defendant is in your hands. The victim’s cry for justice is in your hands. And the state’s responsibility to seek justice is in your hands as well.
“And that’s a great responsibility. That’s a heavy burden you bear. But it is one of the foundations of our society, as a civilized society, that when a crime is committed, justice must be sought. Some wrongs can never be righted, but a just and proper recompense to the victims and to society can only be found when those who commit great wrongs suffer a fair and just punishment for that wrong. Which is why we are here.
“Because on a cold and snowy-in fact, a freezing-Friday night last February, almost a year ago, two young, innocent women suffered a great wrong. Their lives were taken from them brutally, violently, and altogether too soon. They had their whole lives ahead of them. They were bright, beautiful young women just beginning their lives. They were working their way through college. They had parents and families who loved them. They had friends who loved them and have mourned their passing as a wound that can never be really healed.
“Their names were Sarah and Allison. Sarah Denise Burnham was nineteen years old. She was a sophomore down at Middle Tennessee State University where she was studying mass communications. Allison May Matthews was twenty-two. She was about to graduate from MTSU as well, with a degree in art history. Neither one of them had ever been in trouble before. They had good grades. They were close to their families. Allison attended a Baptist church close to the campus down there. Sarah hadn’t been to church in a while, but she was raised by God-fearing parents.”
Collier stepped out from behind the podium and paced back and forth slowly as he continued speaking. “But I don’t want you to get the idea that Sarah and Allison were perfect.
They were young and reckless and foolish, as many of us were when we were that age. Sarah and Allison had done something I wouldn’t have wanted them to do, something that I would never have wanted my own daughter to do.
Something their parents never knew about …
“They had gotten jobs working at a place down on Church Street here in Nashville, a place called Exotica Tans. This, ladies and gentlemen, is what is euphemistically referred to as an exotic tanning parlor, but what is, in fact, more commonly known as a massage parlor.”
Collier paused to let this sink in. “Yes, a massage parlor. You may find that shocking. I certainly did, given the background of these two young girls. But as witnesses will testify before you very soon, Allison and Sarah were not the kinds of girls who typically worked in places like these.
They were good girls who had foolishly gone astray in this one instance. Perhaps they could make more money this way than they could selling shoes in the mall. Perhaps they thought it was naughty and funny. Who knows?