Juror #3(53)

I spoke in a sober tone as I talked to the jury about the deceased, Monae Prince. Instead of serving up bombshells, I skimmed the surface of her seamy background. After all, with the detective lying in the county morgue, I wasn’t yet certain how much of Monae Prince’s seedy life would get into evidence.

I was treading lightly, soft-pedaling the prostitution angle. So it startled me when I heard the DA slam his chair into the railing behind the counsel table.

I jumped and turned with a jerk. Isaac Keet was on his feet, his wooden chair tipped backward at a dangerous angle.

“Objection!” he shouted. Even the deaf judge winced at the noise.

“What?” I snapped.

Keet stepped away from the counsel table. “Your Honor, I will not stand silently by while she maligns that poor dead child.”

I shook my head in amazement. “What are you talking about? All I said was that she engaged in prostitution. You already said so yourself. You told the jury she was a hooker in your opening statement.”

“Hooker?” His nostrils flared. “Your Honor, did you hear the terminology Ms. Bozarth is using? It is offensive.”

Judge Ashley scratched at his receding hairline. “Mr. Keet,” he began, but the DA cut him off.

Advancing in my direction, Keet said, “I told this jury that the defendant—your client, who is so appreciative of the jury’s service on his behalf—lured the murder victim into an act of prostitution.”

Keet was an arm’s length away from me—and from the jury. My face burned; I could feel the blood flushing my cheeks. I turned to the judge. “Judge Ashley, the defense requests that you tell Mr. Keet to sit down.”

The judge tugged at his deaf ear. “Let’s all settle down. Tensions are running high. Mr. Keet, your objection is overruled.”

I watched as Keet strode back to his counsel table. As he straightened his chair, he fixed my client with a look of pure disgust. Lee cringed slightly in his seat, as if he’d been threatened.

Sweet Jesus.

Turning back to the jury, I took a breath and said, “The evidence will show that my client did not solicit the deceased. He did not lure her to his hotel room in Vicksburg. She appeared without his prior knowledge. The defense will provide uncontroverted testimony that Monae Prince had been contacted by another individual, without my client’s knowledge or consent.”

I paused in confusion for a moment. Hadn’t I intended to avoid revealing the defense evidence? Isaac Keet’s theatrics were getting me flustered.

It was time to transition, to build up a contrasting image for the jury’s benefit: Lee Greene, Mr. Wonderful.

“Y’all may not have heard much about my client, Lee Greene. He’s from over in Jackson, where he practices corporate law with one of the leading firms in our state capital. Lee grew up just outside Jackson, on a piece of land that’s been in the Greene family for nearly two hundred years. He got his undergraduate degree and his law degree from Ole Miss. Graduated with high honors.”

I paced to the left, to make sure I was engaging all of the jurors. “But in addition to a distinguished legal career, Lee Greene is also committed to public service. He’s a lifelong member of the Calvary Presbyterian Church, he’s a member and officer of his Rotary group, and he’s also a leading supporter of and fund-raiser for the charitable organization in Mississippi that is building homes and schools in poverty-stricken areas of Nicaragua. A school currently under construction there will bear his family name. And he devotes countless hours of volunteer work to the Humane Society of Barnes County, caring for abandoned animals.”

I paused, turning to look at Lee, hoping the jurors would follow my lead. He was wearing a saintly, benevolent expression. Glancing back at the jury box, I saw yet another woman look at him with approval.

I continued, my voice firm. “Clearly, as you will see, Lee Greene is not a man who would commit the lurid crime with which he is charged.”

“Objection.”

This time, Isaac Keet didn’t shout, didn’t shove his chair. When I turned my head, he was leaning against the railing with his arms crossed.

“Your Honor,” he said, in a voice that was deadly calm, “I’m going to have to ask that Ruby Bozarth be censured.”

I was so shocked that I sputtered, and it took a few seconds before I could respond clearly. “What on earth are you talking about? Your Honor, I object to the DA’s continual interruptions. There is no basis for this, none at all.”

Keet went on, as if I hadn’t spoken. “Ruby Bozarth is an officer of the court—and yet she knows that what she is telling the jury is untrue.”

I clenched my fists and stuffed them into my pockets. “What are you even talking about?”

“Her supposed presentation of the defendant as a clean-cut paragon who’d never do anything wrong? Never hurt a living soul? Ms. Bozarth, please! Your Honor, it’s well known that defense attorney Ruby Bozarth refused to marry defendant Lee Greene because of his sexual proclivities.”

I gasped. I opened my mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. Exactly how should I respond to Keet’s scandalous statement?

Because, after all—it was the truth.

Judge Ashley cupped his hand around his ear. “What’s that you say?”





Chapter 48