Free The Runaway Jury by John Grisham Page A

deceased, Mr. Jacob Wood, a fine fellow, developed lung cancer after smoking Bristols for almost thirty years. The cigarettes killed him, Rohr announced solemnly, tugging at a pointed patch of gray beard below his chin. His voice was raspy but precise, capable of floating up and down to hit the right dramatic pitch. Rohr was a performer, a seasoned actor whose crooked bow tie and clicking dentures and mismatched clothing were designed to endear him to the average man. He wasn’t perfect. Let the defense lawyers, in their impeccable dark suits and rich silk ties, talk down their long noses at these jurors. But not Rohr. These were his people.
    But how would they prove cigarettes cause lung cancer? There’d be lots of proof, really. First, they would bring in some of the most distinguished cancer experts and researchers in the country. Yes, that’s right, these great men were on their way to Biloxi to sit and chat with this jury and explain unequivocally and with mountains of statistics that cigarettes do in fact cause cancer.
    Then, and Rohr couldn’t suppress a wicked smile as he prepared to reveal this, the plaintiff would present to the jury people who’d once worked for the tobacco industry. Dirty laundry would be aired, right there in that very courtroom. Damning evidence was on the way.
    In short, the plaintiff would prove cigarette smoke, because it contains natural carcinogens, andpesticides, and radioactive particles, and asbestos-like fibers, causes lung cancer.
    At this point, there was little doubt in the courtroom that Wendall Rohr could not only prove this, but would be able to prove it without much trouble. He paused, tugged at the ends of his bow tie with all ten chubby fingers, and glanced at his notes, then, very solemnly, began talking about Jacob Wood, the deceased. Beloved father and family man, hard worker, devout Catholic, member of the church softball team, veteran. Started smoking when he was just a kid who, like everyone else back then, was not aware of the dangers. A grandfather. And so on.
    Rohr got overly dramatic for a moment, but seemed to know it. He briefly covered the area of damages. This was a big trial, he announced, one of vast importance. The plaintiff expected, and would certainly ask for, a lot of money. Not just actual damages—the economic value of Jacob Wood’s life, plus his family’s loss of his love and affection—but also punitive damages.
    Rohr rambled on a bit about punitive damages, seemed to lose his place a few times, and it was clear to most of the jurors that he was so inspired by the prospect of a huge punitive verdict that he lost his concentration.
    Judge Harkin, in writing, had allowed one hour for each side’s opening statement. And had promised, in writing, to cut off any lawyer who ran over. Though he suffered from the common lawyerly affliction of overkill, Rohr knew not to mess with His Honor’s clock. He finished in fifty minutes with a somber appeal for justice, thanked the jurors for their attention, smiled and clicked his dentures, and sat down.
    Fifty minutes in a chair with no conversation and precious little movement feels like hours, and Judge Harkin knew it. He announced a recess for fifteen minutes, to be followed by the defendant’s opening statement.
    DURWOOD CABLE finished his remarks in under thirty minutes. He coolly and deliberately assured the jurors that Pynex had experts of its own, scientists and researchers who would clearly explain that cigarettes in fact do not cause lung cancer. The skepticism of the jurors was expected, and Cable asked only for their patience and open-mindedness. Sir Durr spoke without the benefit of notes, and each word was drilled into the eyes of a juror. His eyes moved down the first row, then up slightly to the second, taking in their curious gazes one at a time. His voice and stare were almost hypnotic, but honest. You wanted to believe this man.

Six
    T he first crisis occurred at lunch. Judge Harkin