think I’m sending a woman into his courtroom to argue a motion before him? Hell no. If I did, the client would suffer because of it. That’s not sexism, that’s reality. Judge Mansfield thinks any lawyer who graduated from Stanford Law School, his alma mater, is God’s gift to the legal profession. And when we get a case before him, you’re damn straight I’m giving first shot at it to one of our lawyers from Stanford. And I’m definitely assigning a Jewish lawyer to Judge Levin’s cases.”
“You act like a lawyer can win a case simply by playing to the judge’s biases. There
are
some judges out there, you know, who actually focus on the evidence, not the lawyer who’s presenting it.”
“I never professed to be describing all judges.” He took a sip of his Pepsi. “But if I know a judge has a particular bias, I’m definitely playing to it. The same rule applies to the jury. If Tina Montgomery is charged with murder and it gives her an edge with the jury to have two black female attorneys flanking her in the courtroom, that’s a good thing.”
“It could also backfire,” I said. “We might look like three scorned women. Having a guy on the case would add some balance.”
O’Reilly shook his head. “Not buying it.”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure jurors care about race or sex. What matters most is whether the attorney trying the case walks into that courtroom with an air of confidence, as opposed to arrogance. That he or she knows the facts, doesn’t talk down to the jury and treats them with enough respect that they actually begin to have as much faith in the attorney as they do in the evidence that the attorney is presenting. That’s what wins cases.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know all that,” O’Reilly said. “But if you have that and some extra edge, you need to use it. I still think people in general identify with people who look like them and who share their same experiences. This is a criminal case. All you need is one juror to go your way to win. If you happen to connect with some black juror, it may mean the difference between a guilty verdict and a hung jury.”
“That’s crap, O’Reilly. You act like every black juror is going to ignore the evidence and vote not guilty because they like me.”
“I’m not saying it’s that black and white,” he said, holding his sandwich with both hands. If there’s a shred of reasonable doubt, a shred of uncertainty about Mrs. Montgomery’s guilt
and
they like you and think you’re credible, I do think they’re more likely to go your way.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but there was a sliver of truth to what he had just said. I wasn’t sure where to go from here, so I decided not to push the issue any further. For now. I got up to leave. Just as I reached for the doorknob, O’Reilly’s words stopped me.
“She needs you.”
“What?” I said, turning back to face him.
“I said she needs you,” he repeated
“Who needs me?”
“Neddy.”
I laughed. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He folded up the remains of his sandwich and waved me over. “Close the door and sit back down.”
O’Reilly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. As I rejoined him at the table, I noticed a big grease stain on his shirt, right below the collar. I decided to let somebody else give him the bad news.
“I knew Neddy when she worked at the P.D.’s Office. Back then she was a friendly outgoing, free spirit who was everybody’s pal.” His onion breath was pretty strong. I hoped he didn’t have any afternoon meetings.
“That seems hard to believe,” I said.
He ignored my skepticism. “I don’t know how much you know about her personal life, but she’s had it pretty rough lately. She’s in the middle of a very heated divorce. Her husband is a complete jackass. I hear he’s trying to get alimony. You think Max Montgomery had a reputation for getting around? Neddy’s husband could’ve given him a run for his money. On top of that, she
“You act like a lawyer can win a case simply by playing to the judge’s biases. There
are
some judges out there, you know, who actually focus on the evidence, not the lawyer who’s presenting it.”
“I never professed to be describing all judges.” He took a sip of his Pepsi. “But if I know a judge has a particular bias, I’m definitely playing to it. The same rule applies to the jury. If Tina Montgomery is charged with murder and it gives her an edge with the jury to have two black female attorneys flanking her in the courtroom, that’s a good thing.”
“It could also backfire,” I said. “We might look like three scorned women. Having a guy on the case would add some balance.”
O’Reilly shook his head. “Not buying it.”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure jurors care about race or sex. What matters most is whether the attorney trying the case walks into that courtroom with an air of confidence, as opposed to arrogance. That he or she knows the facts, doesn’t talk down to the jury and treats them with enough respect that they actually begin to have as much faith in the attorney as they do in the evidence that the attorney is presenting. That’s what wins cases.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know all that,” O’Reilly said. “But if you have that and some extra edge, you need to use it. I still think people in general identify with people who look like them and who share their same experiences. This is a criminal case. All you need is one juror to go your way to win. If you happen to connect with some black juror, it may mean the difference between a guilty verdict and a hung jury.”
“That’s crap, O’Reilly. You act like every black juror is going to ignore the evidence and vote not guilty because they like me.”
“I’m not saying it’s that black and white,” he said, holding his sandwich with both hands. If there’s a shred of reasonable doubt, a shred of uncertainty about Mrs. Montgomery’s guilt
and
they like you and think you’re credible, I do think they’re more likely to go your way.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but there was a sliver of truth to what he had just said. I wasn’t sure where to go from here, so I decided not to push the issue any further. For now. I got up to leave. Just as I reached for the doorknob, O’Reilly’s words stopped me.
“She needs you.”
“What?” I said, turning back to face him.
“I said she needs you,” he repeated
“Who needs me?”
“Neddy.”
I laughed. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He folded up the remains of his sandwich and waved me over. “Close the door and sit back down.”
O’Reilly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. As I rejoined him at the table, I noticed a big grease stain on his shirt, right below the collar. I decided to let somebody else give him the bad news.
“I knew Neddy when she worked at the P.D.’s Office. Back then she was a friendly outgoing, free spirit who was everybody’s pal.” His onion breath was pretty strong. I hoped he didn’t have any afternoon meetings.
“That seems hard to believe,” I said.
He ignored my skepticism. “I don’t know how much you know about her personal life, but she’s had it pretty rough lately. She’s in the middle of a very heated divorce. Her husband is a complete jackass. I hear he’s trying to get alimony. You think Max Montgomery had a reputation for getting around? Neddy’s husband could’ve given him a run for his money. On top of that, she
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