“We are going to reserve, Your Honor,” Marcus said. Meaning he would make his statement after I presented my case but before the defense put on theirs.
“Unless plaintiffs’ counsel makes allegations in his statement that must be addressed right away,” Mitchell added.
I smiled. Let the baiting begin.
“Then I shall call on you after Mr. Haller finishes and you can decide,” Ruhlin said. “I will say that the court does not appreciate interruptions during opening statements. I find the tactic disruptive and off-putting to the jury. Proceed with caution if you are inclined to interrupt your opponent.”
Since Marcus had already said he planned to reserve his statement, the judge’s admonition seemed directed at him, and he wasn’t happy about it.
“Your Honor, I can’t sit there and do nothing to protect my client if Haller resorts to his usual inflammatory comments,” he protested.
I didn’t even need to fire back.
“Mr. Mason, you are already starting off on the wrong foot with me,” Ruhlin said. “First of all, in my courtroom, your opposing counsel is not referred to as ‘Haller.’ He is Mr. Haller. And—”
“Sorry, Your Honor,” Mason said. “Mr. Haller.”
“Do not interrupt the court,” Ruhlin said. “As I was saying, opening statements are not evidence. The jury will be instructed so and I will advise you to hold your objections until testimony and evidence is presented to the court. Do I make myself clear to all of you?”
This was followed by a chorus of affirmative responses from all three lawyers.
“All right,” she said. “Any other questions before we start?”
I raised my hand and asked permission to stand in front of the jury box, not at the lectern, when I made my opening statement. I wanted to stand in the proving ground, front and center. Ruhlin allowed it but said it would not be permitted again during the trial until closing arguments.
“If there’s nothing else, let’s go to trial,” the judge said. “You may proceed back to the courtroom and I will be with you shortly.”
We headed back in single file and in the order we had established after previous visits to chambers.
This time Marcus turned back to me to deliver a taunt.
“I don’t care what she says,” he said. “You cross a line, I’m objecting.”
“That’s very brave of you,” I retorted. “Out here, I mean. Let’s see it in the courtroom, Marcus.”
“Fuck you.”
“Man, I could write your dialogue in my sleep.”
We split up when we got back into the courtroom. I saw that my clients were in their places: Brenda and Trisha at the plaintiffs’ table, Bruce Colton behind them in the first row of the gallery. Next to Bruce, on the aisle, was Cisco, and on his other side, the row was stacked shoulder to shoulder with media types. I intentionally avoided looking at them as I took my seat. I leaned down to whisper to the mothers.
“Brenda, Trisha, how are we feeling today?” I asked.
“Scared, but ready for this,” Brenda said.
“The same,” Trisha said.
I nodded that I understood.
“Look, we might get to one or both of you today,” I said. “It depends on how long it takes with Detective Clarke. So be ready. You’re going to hear some difficult things from the detective when he’s on the witness stand and before that from me during my opening statement. Don’t be afraid to show your emotions either here or when you’re testifying. But don’t push it and don’t fake it. Remember that the jury will be looking for sincerity. They’ll spot a fake a mile away.”
Both women nodded. Then Trisha leaned in front of Brenda and closer to me.
“Are we going to win?” she whispered. “We turned down a lot of money.”
I knew it was her husband speaking through her.
“I think we’re in a good position to win,” I said. “We had really good prep sessions with Naomi Kitchens, the ethicist, yesterday. We are as ready as we can be.”
It was true. We had managed to flip Naomi Kitchens once again. It was knowing that her daughter had Cisco and others watching over her as well as McEvoy camping out in a rental car in front of her house that made her change her mind. On Sunday morning she and her daughter flew down to L.A. with McEvoy and Cisco, and I spent the afternoon prepping her to testify.
We all stood when Judge Ruhlin entered the courtroom, her robe flowing behind her, and took the bench. She told us to be seated and convened court, calling the case and instructing the courtroom marshal to bring the jury in. I knew I would be the first one up and tried to control the butterflies. It didn’t matter how many times I did this; there was always much at stake, and I would think that something was wrong if the nervousness ever went away.
The jurors all carried court-provided notebooks as they entered from the assembly room. They took the same spots they were in when the jury was finally composed and accepted. Their anonymity would continue and they had now been given new numbers, one through twelve, according to the seats they were assigned to. The judge welcomed them with a warm smile and described how the trial would proceed. She explained what was evidence in a case and what was not and how to evaluate the credibility of testimony and exhibits. She told them that it was the plaintiff’s burden to prove its case by the preponderance of evidence — meaning that the jury determined that the plaintiff’s claim was more likely than not to be true. And as promised in chambers, she cautioned the jurors not to consider opening statements as evidence or even fact. She called them road maps that the attorneys would follow through the trial.
“It will be up to each attorney during the course of the trial to make good on what he says in his opening statement,” she said. “You will decide if he has done that during your deliberations once all testimony and evidence have been delivered.”
She paused for a moment to see if any juror raised a hand or looked confused.
“Very well, then, let’s start,” Ruhlin said. “Mr. Haller, your opening statement, please.”
I stood and buttoned my jacket the way Maggie had done earlier at home. One button only, the middle one. I stepped between the plaintiffs’ table and the lectern and moved front and center before the jury. The proving ground could be the loneliest spot on the planet if you didn’t believe in your case. But that wasn’t an issue at this moment. I was standing there with the righteous belief that I was in the right spot at the right time with the right case.
“Good morning,” I began. “My name is Michael Haller.”
27
After introducing the plaintiffs and briefly recounting the details of the tragedy that had brought these parents together, I moved to the cause of action. I stood in front of the jurors, hands at my sides, my eyes constantly moving from face to face, hoping to make a connection with my sincerity.
“Developers of artificial intelligence intentionally design generative AI systems with anthropomorphic qualities to blur the line between fantasy and reality.”
I smiled sheepishly.
“Now, what does anthropomorphic mean? I have to admit I had to look it up myself. It is the assignment of human traits, emotions, and even intentions to a nonhuman entity. It’s the business of making AI entities seem like real-life human beings. This is what Tidalwaiv, the company the plaintiffs are suing, does. This is what their AI companion Clair is all about. It is in their literature, their sales pitch, which you will see as evidence is introduced during the trial. You just sign in, and on your screen is what appears to be a real live person responding to you. Talking to you. Even texting you on your cell phone, if you want. You can add your fantasy on top of that fantasy. Let’s say you want your AI companion to be based on the popular real-life female wrestler known as Wren the Wrestler. Then the Clair app will search within the parameters of the data banks it’s been trained on for any and all applicable information about the real human being known as Wren the Wrestler and incorporate what it learns into an AI iteration of Wren that’s visually a pretty close facsimile of the real person.