The 5th Horseman - James Patterson [15]
“What if you went over there and checked her out of the hospital no matter what she wants?” Cindy asked.
“Sure, I thought about that, but what if I did that and I really did give her a ‘hot-attack’?”
Cindy nodded her understanding. “When are they discharging her?”
“Thursday morning, according to Dr. Pierce. After her MRI. ‘Dr. Pierce good doctor. Dr. Pierce honest man!’”
“Dr. Pierce, your future husband,” Cindy cracked.
“That’s the one.”
“You feel okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll go see my mom later. Keep her company for a while.”
“So can you hang out here for the rest of the day?”
“I should get back to the office,” Yuki said, her resolve fading even as she spoke. “But hell, I want to hear Larry Kramer’s opening. How could I miss it?”
“Sit next to me,” Cindy said.
Chapter 21
CINDY WATCHED WITH FASCINATION as Larry Kramer unfolded his gray-suited six-foot-four breadth and length and took the center of the floor. His thick brown hair was combed back, accenting a jutting jawline and giving him the look of a sailor setting his face into the wind.
A man in perpetual forward motion, thought Cindy.
Kramer greeted the court, then turned an affable smile on the jury and thanked them for serving on this case.
“Ms. O’Mara is right about one thing,” he said, putting his large hands on the jury-box railing. “She’s damned right this case is about greed. It’s about the greed of her clients.
“I won’t deny that it’s tragic that through no fault of their own, people have died,” Kramer went on. “But their families have come before this court with one thing in mind. They want to score big. They want to recoup from the deaths of their loved ones. They’re here for the money.”
Kramer leaned into the jury box and looked into the faces of the jury members.
“To most people that might sound cynical or vengeful or mercenary. But it’s not entirely the fault of the litigants.”
Kramer pushed off from the railing and moved out into the center of the room, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts before turning to face the jury again.
“I understand grief. My father and my son both died in a hospital. My baby boy died only three days after he was born. He was a gift, a blessing that was ripped away from my wife and me. My father was my best friend, my mentor, captain of my cheering section. I miss them both every day.”
Kramer’s scowl softened, and he began to pace slowly, hypnotically, in front of the jury box.
“I’m fairly sure every one of you has suffered the loss of a loved one, and you know it’s perfectly natural to want to blame someone,” Kramer said.
“You suffer, you get mad, and, eventually, you turn anger into good by remembering the good times you shared with this person.
“You make peace with the fact that love doesn’t conquer all, or that life can be unfair, or that God works in mysterious ways. And somehow you move on. You move on.
“You want to know why the plaintiffs aren’t doing that?” Kramer asked. He put his hands back on the railing, giving the jury the full force of his attention.
“Because my opponent has led them down a path that is unworthy of them. Because of a law firm called Friedman, Bannion and O’Mara. Because of this woman, Maureen O’Mara.” He pointed his finger directly at his opponent. “Because of her, these unfortunate people have come to see their personal tragedies as a financial opportunity. You’ve all heard the movie line—‘show me the money.’ That’s what this travesty of justice is really about. That’s why those people raised their hands.”
Chapter 22
CINDY ACTUALLY CLAPPED HER HAND over her mouth, stunned at Kramer’s searing personal attack on O’Mara and her firm. Damn—and this was just the trial’s first day.
O’Mara shot up from her seat.
“Objection,” O’Mara snapped. “Your Honor, Counsel’s statement is inflammatory and prejudicial and personally insulting. I move that it be stricken from the record.”
“Sustained. Ms. Campbell,” the judge said to the court reporter, “please strike Mr. Kramer’s last remark. Mr. Kramer, what’s good for the goose . . .