"You changed your vote?" asked Ralph Merry, his soft jowls draped around a mouth open in surprise. "You think we should convict Steere?"
"Absolutely," Christopher answered, with as much certainty as he could muster. "I vote guilty as charged."
Megan was amazed at the change in Christopher, and she wasn't thinking about his vote. Without his beard, Christopher's chin was strong, with a rugged cleft in it. His lips were full and nicely formed. He looked ten years younger, and thinner. Megan edged forward in her chair. "You shaved your beard?" she asked.
Ralph ignored her. "But, Christopher, yesterday you said we should acquit Steere. You've said he was innocent from the beginning. Why did you change your mind?"
Megan couldn't get over it, over him. The difference in Christopher was so awesome. He looked way hunky. "I think you look better without your beard."
Christopher smiled and shrugged happily. He felt better without his beard, like a new man with a fresh start. Lainie didn't want him and neither did Marta. Well, he was starting over, but he couldn't tell Megan that. "I don't know why I shaved, but I know why I changed my mind. I couldn't sleep all night. My conscience got to me."
"Your conscience?" Ralph asked in disbelief.
Gussella Williams looked crestfallen. "Christopher? You're changin' your vote? You're not puttin' us on?" Her large features collapsed into a frown that broke Christopher's heart, He paused, uncertain, and scanned the jurors one by one. The pain on Gussella's face was reflected on almost every juror around the table. They were even wearing their Sunday best, dressed up to go home today. Christopher felt terrible keeping them from their families, especially Mrs. Wahlbaum, who looked at him last, her eyes hooded in disappointment.
"Do you mean this, Christopher?" she asked, uncomprehending. She couldn't have felt worse if her best student flunked a midterm. "Please explain this to me."
Christopher reminded himself of his purpose and bore down. He would tell the truth, in a way. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Wahlbaum. I'm sorry, all of you, but I think Steere belongs in jail. He's a dangerous man. A murderer."
Smack! Kenny Manning slapped a loud high five with Lucky Seven, but theirs was the only joyous reaction. The other jurors remained puzzled.
"For real?" Nick asked. He was surprised. He woke up this morning all calm. Now he was getting all nervous again. Last night he knew just how to vote. Antoinetta visited him and told him what to do. He should vote not guilty. It would be over sooner if he did and go better for him in the neighborhood. Now Nick was all confused.
"But why?" Mrs. Wahlbaum asked. "You have to have some sort of rationale. Please explain."
Christopher cleared his throat. He'd spent all night rehearsing. "I don't agree with what Steere did. I don't understand why he just didn't drive away. If a man came up to me and I was in my truck, I'd drive away."
"Damn right," Lucky Seven said.
Mrs. Wahlbaum frowned. "Mr. Steere was frightened. In fear of his life, as you said. I thought you showed a real understanding of the situation yesterday."
"I hadn't thought it out yesterday. I needed to sleep on it."
"But you were so perceptive. So sensitive."
Christopher looked as uncomfortable as he felt. "I guess my conscience got to me. Steere shouldn't have just shot the poor man in cold blood."
Mrs. Wahlbaum's penciled eyebrows drooped. "Mr. Steere panicked. He didn't know what to do. It was a biological reaction, for self-preservation."
Martin Fogel folded his skinny arms. "She's a biologist now," he said, but Christopher ignored him and stood up at the head of the conference table, in front of a large window. The snowstorm was still going strong. Snowflakes fell from the gray sky on an already whitened city. The room was quiet and the snow muffled what little noise there was outside.
"It doesn't make sense that Steere was that afraid," Christopher said, as he stood behind his chair. "Why was he so afraid? The poor man was obviously homeless. Drunk to boot."
Megan couldn't take her eyes from Christopher. His shoulders looked so broad in front of the hotel window. She had on her best Urban Decay makeup, thinking she'd get back on-line today. But when she looked at the new Christopher, Megan suddenly stopped missing her computer.
"I wonder if Steere was afraid of the knife," Ralph Merry answered dryly. "My guess is that the knife had something to do with it. Besides, the man was a carjacker, not a hobo or something."
"But the man was drunk," Christopher countered. "He couldn't have used a knife."
Ralph shook his head. "Christopher, the defense proved the carjacker wasn't that drunk. Remember that expert? The carjacker's blood alcohol showed he wasn't dead drunk. He could still have done some damage with a knife like that."
"I disagree," Christopher said. "It was an empty threat, and Steere killed him for it."
Lucky Seven grinned, and Kenny Manning crossed his arms. "Man's goin' down," Kenny said, nodding.
Christopher's head bobbed in unison with his new allies. "Also, why didn't Steere take the stand? Why didn't he just get up there and testify? Tell his side of the story?"
"We aren't permitted to consider that," Mrs. Wahlbaum said. "Mr. Steere had a right not to take the stand. We're not supposed to hold it against him."
"I know, but I can't help wondering," Christopher said. "Think about it, Mrs. Wahlbaum. We took an oath. We have to find the truth. It's our responsibility to wonder why somebody has something to hide."
"We're supposed to deliberate using what the judge told us," she insisted. "We have to look at the law and the evidence."
"But at the end of the day, it's our conscience," Christopher said as firmly as possible. He pointed to his chest beneath his flannel shirt and it made him feel even more emphatic. "We have to make the decision and we have to live with it."
"Thas' right," Lucky Seven said. "Everybody else, they go right on. The judge and lawyers go to the nex' case. We the ones, we got to live with it."
Christopher nodded. "Why did Steere shoot him? Why didn't he just hit him— clock him— and drive away? Or if he had to shoot him, why didn't he shoot him in the shoulder or someplace else that wouldn't kill the poor guy? Instead, he shot to kill."
"Coulda done a million things," said Lucky Seven, and Christopher nodded again.
The jurors' heads wheeled back and forth.
"Right," Christopher said. "Exactly. I know how you all feel and I felt the same way yesterday. But here's something all of us are forgetting. A homeless man is dead today because of Elliot Steere. A man is dead. Nobody can bring him back."
The room fell silent suddenly. Megan glanced at Mrs. Wahlbaum, who pursed her lips. Nick took a shaky sip of water. Wanthida looked down.
Only Gussella looked at her fellow jurors with undisguised scorn. She wasn't about to miss another week with her grandson. When babies were that young, they grew so fast, and Gussella wanted to hold that little boy in her arms. She could feel his softness against her skin, a warm bundle. Chubby arms to snuggle around her neck. Little fingers to coo over. A crinkly Pampers on that little butt. She couldn't wait a minute longer. "Are you all crazy? That man done wrong! He was tryin' to rob Steere's car! He held a knife to Steere's throat! We all saw how his lawyer showed it. He cut Steere right in his face!"
"Under his eye," Mrs. Wahlbaum added. "Mr. Steere could have lost his sight."
Mr. Fogel said, "Thank you, Dr. Wahlbaum. She's an eye doctor now."
Christopher faced them all. "Yes, that's all true. Everything you say is true about what that man did. But the question we have to answer is, did he deserve to die for it? Would you have killed him for it?"