The Fence - Dick Lehr [141]
On the fifth floor, Courtroom 18 was the domain of Judge William G. Young. Young was a history buff who saw that the fixtures in his oak-paneled courtroom replicated those in one of the oldest courthouses in the state—or nation, for that matter—in Newburyport, Massachusetts, a seaside town north of Boston. When he was a judge in the state Superior Court, the Newburyport courthouse had been his favorite. Young applied some personal finishing touches as well. Instead of the portraits of jurists that typically adorned courtrooms, he hung two oil paintings by his father. Both were of ships at sea—Spinnaker off Target Rock and Whale Ship Emerald.
The Long Island, New York, native was a graduate of both Harvard College and Harvard Law School. During his seven years as a state judge, he presided at the “Big Dan’s” trial in which four men were convicted of raping a woman in a bar. Jodie Foster later starred in the movie about the case. In 1984, President Ronald Reagan appointed him to the federal bench.
Like the jury, the judge settled in to listen to Steve Roach. Young wore wire-rimmed glasses and shifted comfortably in his inky robe. The elevated bench hid the fact that he was short, maybe five-five, which came as a bit of surprise for someone whose voice carried so clearly and sonorously. Looking out, he saw a courtroom filled to capacity. Five oak tables in the large well were all in use. Roach, Sinsheimer, and Roach’s associate had one. The various defense attorneys occupied the others—Kenny Conley’s lawyers Willie Davis and Fran Robinson; Ian Daley’s attorneys; Dave Williams’s attorney; and Jimmy Burgio’s attorney. None of the other defense attorneys wanted to be at the same table with Burgio’s attorney, Tom Drechsler. The judge had ended the fuss by assigning seats.
In the gallery beyond the oak railing, Kenny sat off to one side, making sure to stay away from Dave Williams and the others. He wanted nothing to do with them. Williams sat to the right, his brow furrowed. Ian Daley was seated in another pew. The one face missing in the crowd was Jimmy Burgio’s. He was nowhere to be found. In civil cases, defendants are not required to attend, and Burgio stayed away. Mike and Kimberly Cox sat in the front row directly behind their lawyers. Family, friends, off-duty cops, and reporters filled the oak benches set up in five rows.
Before making way for Roach, the judge took a few minutes to talk to the jury. Chosen first thing in the morning, the jury included a bank teller, a bartender, a teacher, two retirees, and the manager of a restaurant. One, Carol Goslant, was an electrical engineer; Bob McDonough worked for Titleist, the golf ball manufacturer, in the training and development department; Sharon Schwartz was a homemaker.
“You twelve men and women are the judges of the facts,” the judge said. He explained Mike Cox had accused the defendants of his beating and that it was his burden to prove their liability by a “fair preponderance of the evidence.” In other words, his evidence implicating the accused must be “more likely to be true than not true.” The judge made clear to distinguish Kenny Conley. “He’s not suing Mr. Conley on the excessive force theory.” The case against Kenny involved two claims—that he saw the beating and did not intervene to break it up and that he participated in a cover-up afterward. “The law forbids police officers from engaging in a cover-up,” he said. “That means that we are entitled to expect police officers to play it straight.”
The judge told jurors they could take notes. They