Judge & Jury Read Free

from the looks of it, it’s something big. You see those guys? They’re reporters. And did you notice the barricades outside and those cops milling around? More uniforms in this place than in an NYPD Blue wardrobe closet.”
    The woman smiled. “Rosella,” she said amiably.
    “I’m Andie,” Andie said, extending her hand.
    “So, Andie, how jou get on dis jury, anyway, jou know?”
    Andie squinted at her as if she hadn’t heard right. “You want to get picked?”
    “Sure. My huzban say you get forty dollars a day, plus train fare. The woman I work for, she pay me whichever way. So why not take the cash?”
    Andie smiled and shrugged wistfully. “Why not?”
    The judge’s clerk came in, a woman with black glasses and a pinched, officious face, like an old-time schoolmarm. “All rise for Judge Miriam Seiderman.”
    Everyone pushed themselves out of their seats.
    “So, Rosella, you want to know how to get on this thing?” Andie leaned over and whispered to her neighbor as an attractive woman of around fifty, with touches of gray in her hair, entered the courtroom and stepped up to the bench.
    “Sure.”
    “Just watch.” Andie nudged her. “Whatever I do, do the opposite.”

Chapter 3
    JUDGE SEIDERMAN STARTED OUT by asking each of them a few questions. Name and address. What you did for a living. Whether you were single or married, and if you were, if you had kids. Highest level of education. What newspapers and magazines you read. If anyone in your family ever worked for the government or for the police.
    Andie glanced at the clock. This was going to take hours.
    A few of them got excused immediately. One woman announced she was a lawyer. The judge asked her to come up to the side of the bench. They chatted a few seconds, and she let her go. Another man complained that he’d just served on a jury up in Westchester. He’d only finished up last week. He got a pink slip, too.
    Some other guy who was actually half cute announced he was a crime novelist. In fact, another woman in the jury pool held up his book. She was reading it! After he finished up, Andie heard him snicker, “I don’t have a prayer of ending up on this thing.”
    Then, Judge Seiderman nodded Andie’s way.
    “Andie DeGrasse,” Andie replied. “I live at 855 West One eighty-third Street, in the Bronx. I’m an actress.”
    A few people looked back at her. They always did. “Well, I try to be,” she said, qualifying. “Mostly I do proofreading for The Westsider. It’s a community newspaper in upper Manhattan. And regarding the other question, I was, Your Honor, for five years.”
    “Was what, Ms. DeGrasse?” The judge peered over her glasses.
    “ Married. The nuclear option, if you know what I mean.” A couple of people chuckled. “Except for my son. Jarrod. He’s nine. He’s basically a full-time occupation for me now.”
    “Please continue, Ms. DeGrasse,” the judge said.
    “Let’s see. I went to St. John’s for a couple of years.” What Andie really wanted to convey was, You know, Your Honor, I dropped out in the fourth grade, and I don’t even know what exculpatory evidence means.
    “And let’s see, I read Vogue and Cosmo and, oh yeah, Mensa. Charter member. I definitely try and keep up with that one.”
    A few more chuckles rippled around the courtroom. Keep it going, she said to herself. Push out the chest. You’re almost off this thing.
    “And regarding the police”—she thought for a second—“none in the family. But I dated a few.”
    Judge Seiderman smiled, shaking her head. “Just one more question. Do you have any reason or experience that would prejudice you against Italian Americans? Or render you unable to reach an impartial verdict if you served on this trial?”
    “Well, I once played a role in The Sopranos, ” she replied. “It was the one when Tony whacks that guy up at Meadow’s school. I was in the club.”
    “The club?” Judge Seiderman blinked back, starting to grow short.
    “The Bada