Page 164 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Jury-rigged

gaze, to the detriment of its awareness of the snake’s intent and
ominous advances.
“The last juror, Mitchell N. Bowan, age forty-three, height five-
eleven, weight one seventy-five, might also have been summarily
dismissed by the prosecution, in this case because of his prior service
as a juror on a capital offense in which the verdict was guilty. Those
people often develop doubts about their earlier decision and become
unwilling to convict a second time. But the jury selection had been
going on for days, the pool would have to have been replenished and
re-sworn, and both sides wanted to get their cases made. As I recall,
Duncan, Mr. Bowan had not been eager to serve. His job as a
technical writer for a software company was on the line, and he did
not want to be absent during a reorganization taking place during the
trial.”
“Yes, and subsequent events justified his apprehension. His
employer let him go as soon as possible after the jury was dismissed,
avoiding the law against firing a juror by about two days. His job was
taken by two younger people, and he had to file for unemployment
benefits. He was not uncooperative the first time we talked to him at
his apartment, on April 7, because he did not yet know his head was
on the chopping block. By the end of the week, however, he was very
angry at any public official identifiable with what the media call the
criminal justice system.”
Labelle shuffled rapidly through my papers like a casino dealer with
a familiar deck of cards, wondering where the marked ones had gone.
“I don’t see anything about that in here.”
“You wouldn’t. Those are my personal observations of the man’s
emotional reaction to a situation unrelated to a murder of one of his
fellow jurors. I did not consider the possibility that he somehow
learned in advance that he would be fired and as a result had
developed a resentment so great against law and order that he had
immediately gone in league with the Simulians to assist them in their
program of assassination.”
“You should have.”
I had delivered my absurd exaggeration deadpan, with no irony in
my voice. If a mechanical computer-controlled detective were under
development somewhere, its inventors were missing a bet by not
using Labelle Gramercy as a model. She was proof that the normal

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