Johnny wondered why the Judge had gone out of his way to humiliate the all-powerful First Selectman. It seemed an unnecessary discipline. To antagonize Hemus when the object was to conduct the proceedings so smoothly as to cover up the deliberate infractions they planned...
“Counsel, are we ready to select a jury?”
Andrew Webster and Ferriss Adams rose and said they were.
Johnny swallowed a grin. His honor was back in the groove and off to the races. Court had not been formally convened, no charge had been read into the record, no “People Against Kowalczyk”... the defendant had not even entered his plea. For all the record would show, they might have been preparing to try Andy Webster.
But then Johnny lost all appetite for humor. He saw Josef Kowalczyk’s face.
The prisoner sat by Andrew Webster’s side at the pine table with the quivering rigidity of a man who expects a bullet in the back. The two jurists had felt it wiser not to reveal their plan to Kowalczyk; clearly, he thought he was on trial for his life.
He had made an effort to present a decent appearance. His hair was carefully brushed; he had tried to scrub the coal dust from his skin; he wore a dark tie, whose sobriety suggested Pastor Sheare’s wardrobe. But his skin was even grayer and darker this morning, the timid eyes wilder and more sunken. Even the bruise on his lower lip was white. He sat gripping the edge of the table with both hands.
“The town clerk will read the selectmen’s roll of eligible jurors,” said Judge Shinn. “One at a time, please.”
Burney Hackett read from a paper in a loud voice: “Hubert Hemus!”
The First Selectman rose from his campchair and went to the witness chair.
“Mr. Adams?”
Ferriss Adams came away from the pine table.
“Your name.”
“Hubert Hemus.” Hemus was still smarting under Judge Shinn’s reprimand.
“Mr. Hemus, have you formed an opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the defendant, Josef Kowalczyk?”
“Do I have to answer that?” He glared at the lawyer.
“The state’s attorney must ask that question, Mr. Hemus,” the Judge said sternly. “And you must answer it truthfully if you wish to serve on this jury.”
“Sure I’ve formed an opinion!” exploded the First Selectman. “So’s everybody else. That murderin’ tramp was caught practic’ly redhanded!”
Johnny apologized mentally to Judge Shinn, who was putting a handkerchief to his mouth. Get Hemus mad enough...
“But if the evidence should cast a reasonable doubt on the defendant’s guilt,” Adams asked quickly, “you would not vote to convict him, Mr. Hemus, even though as of this moment you’re convinced he’s guilty?”
And that nailed it to the record.
Hemus looked grateful. “Mr. Adams, I’m a fair man. If they convince me he’s not guilty, why, I’ll vote that way. But they got to convince me.”
Some of the women giggled.
“Let the record show that there was laughter from the panel at that last remark,” said the Judge to Elizabeth Sheare complacently. “There must be no demonstrations in the court! Proceed, Mr. Adams.”
Adams turned to old Andy Webster. “Does counsel wish to challenge?”
Ex-Judge Webster rose solemnly. “In view of the limited panel, your honor, I submit that the utilization of challenges during the selection of this jury would effectually prevent a jury from being selected. Consequently, if we are to have a trial — and I assume that to try Josef Kowalczyk for murder is what we are all here for — I cannot challenge and I do not challenge.”
Neatly done, thought Johnny as Andrew Webster sat down.
“Hubert Hemus will be entered as Juror Number One. Clerk will proceed with the panel.”
“Orville Pangman,” read Burney Hackett.
The comedy went on. By one device or another, between them Ferriss Adams and Andy Webster, with occasional help from Judge Shinn, maneuvered each panelist into admitting his bias for the record. None was challenged.
It went quickly. Orville Pangman was Juror Number Two. Merton Isbel was Juror Number Three. Burney Hackett read his own name and was disqualified. Mathilda Scott was Juror Number Four; neither her husband’s nor her father-in-law’s name was brought up. Peter Berry was Juror Number Five. The name of Hosey Lemmon was called; no one responded, and Lemmon was stricken from the rolls at the Judge’s direction.
Johnny awaited with curiosity the examination of Samuel Sheare. They had to ask the minister the same questions they were throwing at the others; and Adams did so.
“Have you formed an opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the defendant?”
“I have not,” said the minister in a firm voice.
Johnny looked around. But none of Mr. Sheare’s flock seemed resentful of their pastor’s affirmation of open-mindedness. They expected him to carry the burden of Christian charity as befitting his spiritual calling. Apparently they did not consider it possible that he might vote for an acquittal when the evidence should have been presented. There were sometimes advantages, Johnny grinned to himself, in dealing with single-track minds.
