The Justice Game by Randy Singer

other endearing trait. Every time he made a hundred million or so for his fund, McDermont donated generously to Sherwood’s current philanthropic cause, which at this moment happened to be the AIDS epidemic in Kenya. Sherwood could put up with a lot of nonsense for someone as generous as McDermont.
        At 2:30, Sherwood led his guests into the ornate main cabin area, pulled out his laptop, and hit a switch that caused a large television screen to rise out of a cabinet. The hedge fund operators poured themselves stiff drinks from the bar—they knew their way around—and settled into the plush leather furniture. All but McDermont, who quietly drank water and sat on a barstool, his laptop open on the bar in front of him.
        Sherwood turned on the cabin lights and lowered the power blinds on the windows. He lit a fat stogie—not an expensive imported brand but a blue-collar Phillies cigar manufactured in the City of Brotherly Love—and pulled up a PowerPoint presentation that had been prepared by Andrew Lassiter. Sherwood roamed the cabin as he talked, blowing smoke and stopping occasionally for a nice long pull on the cigar, pointing with the lit end to emphasize his arguments.
        Sherwood had done this drill forty-one times before. He had correctly predicted the winner in thirty-four cases, and five other cases had settled during trial. He had been wrong only twice. One of those times, in the early days of Justice Inc., had nearly bankrupted the startup operation.
        As of today, Sherwood was on a nineteen-case win streak. Each win further emboldened his clients, causing them to raise their bets on subsequent cases. Sherwood would never know exactly how much each hedge fund gambled, but on a big case like the Van Wyck trial, with the ripple effects that might impact a number of different companies, a savvy hedge fund operator could easily put a hundred million dollars at play without raising suspicions. With the right jury verdict, Sherwood’s investors would double their money.
        For thirty minutes, Sherwood bored the men with background information they already knew—the charges against Van Wyck, the perceived strengths and weaknesses of the lawyers, general information about the jurors. The real trial had started four days earlier, and the lawyers had estimated it would take three weeks to finish. Public opinion was split on who was winning—a perfect scenario for Justice Inc.’s advanced research techniques.
        The hedge fund operators listened patiently. Felix McDermont typed as fast as Sherwood spoke, recording every detail, presumably so he could scrutinize it later. The other guests didn’t need details—they just wanted the bottom line.
        Sherwood walked over to a glass bowl containing mixed nuts, picked out a few cashews, and munched on them before calling up a new slide. This one featured information about Juror 7, including complete details about her husband’s affair.
        “How good are your sources?” McDermont asked without looking up.
        “We used Rafael Johansen’s company, same as every other case.”
        McDermont made a note. Johansen’s information could be trusted.
        The next slide was the clincher, the reason each firm in the room paid Justice Inc. nearly $150,000 apiece, enough to recoup every dime of the company’s cost for the mock trials.
        “Two out of three shadow juries returned a guilty verdict,” Sherwood said. He paused, allowing this information to sink in. Justice Inc. typically made recommendations only when all three shadow juries reached the same result. He watched the disappointment register on his guests’ faces. “But we think the third jury is an aberration, driven by Juror 7’s emotional connection with the defendant. In hindsight, we think Juror 7 on the third shadow panel has a much stronger personality than Juror 7 on the actual jury. We’re prepared to predict a guilty verdict despite