I’ve been a substandard juror up until this point. It’s time to right this ship and stop being selfish.
“We had sex last night,” I announce. I look back at Damon, who presses his eyes shut. “And this morning,” I add, because I assume it’s relevant.
Judge Gillespy releases a breath, and the weight of it strikes me like the blast of a gale-force wind as it pushes me back in my seat.
My worst-case scenario has come true.
“I don’t have to tell you how negligent you have been,” Judge Gillespy says, standing again, this time with what I assume as intendedintimidation. “Or how incredibly disappointed I am in you both. Your neglect of the rules, the severity of the situation. Someone’s life is on the line”—she presses her fists to the top of her desk—“another’s justice in death. There are no greater matters.”
She stares at us for a long while. Damon and I remain silent. I cannot think of a single word to make this better. There simply aren’t any.
“You do realize there is more than a mistrial at stake here? Although the weight of that should be enough. I can cite you both with juror misconduct, hold you in contempt, and give you jail time. Was that not made clear?”
My mind spirals from what I should be doing to get myself out of this situation to all I haven’t yet done if Judge Gillespy holds to her threat. There’s a significant amount of living I’ve missed. Being here with Damon, experiencing the highs we have, makes me want to startdoing. I need to see the pyramids in Egypt and eat at Din Tai Fung at least one more time. I need to fly somewhere with a seat in one of those fancy sleeping pods and attend BravoCon with Mel. I need to watch the last season ofYou, which I had to stop watching because I found myself lusting over a fictional serial killer. I need to love.
“It’s my fault,” Damon says. “I was the one who—”
Judge Gillespy throws a palm in the air and closes her eyes. “I do not need the details of your trysts. Nor will you be rewarded for some measly attempt at chivalry now. Please stop there.”
My ears burn with embarrassment, and I swallow with great difficulty as my throat swells. I’ve ruined everything. I think of Tamra, of her time away from her husband and grandkids, now for nothing. I think of Luis, elderly and exhausted. I haven’t considered myself truly selfish until this instant, but I am. And not just because of Damon. Because of my omittances during jury selection to be chosen for this trial. And well before that, my view of my parents’ divorce as only my pain. In many ways, I’ve always been selfish. I am my father’s daughter.
Judge Gillespy begins to pace the room. I turn to watch her. Damon remains stationary, facing toward her empty desk. I wonder if he is upset by my admission. I want to ask, reach out and grab hold of his hand, but I can’t do any of it.
After a few moments of tense silence, the only noise the muffled weight of Judge Gillespy’s heels against the thin black carpet, she says, “I’ll be back in a moment,” before exiting the room.
“Shit,” Damon whispers as soon as she’s gone, and I close my eyes and wince against the sound of his voice. “I’m sorry I got us into this,” he says.
“It’s not your fault,” I say. It’s mine. I’m the one who cares about this case. I’m the one who sought a spot on this jury to help Margot, only to findIcould be the reason this all ends badly.
He turns to face me, and his acute sincerity makes me lean away. “I don’t regret it,” he says, the dimple in his chin constricting as he clenches his jaw.
I don’t either, sitting here, looking at him, with his earnest face and strong pull. How could I possibly? But the stakes are too great. I don’t even know what I believe about the case anymore after everything we’ve heard, but still, I absolutely didn’t want to be the cause of amistrial.
“Every time you go away, you take a piece of meat with you,” he says, and I have no choice but to smile. There really has never been a time when our wrong lyrics haven’t made me feel better, in some small increment.
I wonder if there’s a way we could pass notes in jail. I bet Cam could help with a plan.
The door opens, and Judge Gillespy strides in aggressively, crumpling a paper towel from the restroom between her hands. She tosses it into the bin under her desk and takes her seat. Her stare bores into Damon, then me. The stern clench of her jaw makes me think for a moment the two of them could be related.
Finally, she releases her jaw and opens her mouth, though it takes her several seconds to speak. “A mistrial would be devastating,” she says. “Even replacing you with alternates at this point would draw unnecessary scrutiny to already highly scrutinized proceedings. Anyhiccup at all results in a negative headline or viral post.” She flicks her hand in the air in annoyance. After some time, she sighs in reluctant defeat. “Have you discussed the case?” she asks. “During any of your...” She gives up on finding an appropriate word and instead thrusts her hand in quick circles in the air.
“No,” Damon and I both say in unison. Margot has come up in our conversations, sure, but we haven’t specifically discussed the details of the case. At least, not in the way I believe she means.
“Are you two capable of a course correction, if given the opportunity?” she asks pointedly. We both look up immediately. “The last thing I want to do here is have all this time and all these resources wasted only to have to start over completely. So tell me, if we move forward from this, can you two be trusted to... remain professional?” She says “remain professional,” but it’s clear her words are code fornot fuck.
“Absolutely,” I offer. “I am so very sorry, Judge Gillespy. I can assure you, it was a lapse in judgment. A by-product of being isolated for so long. I take this case, the judicial system and process, very,veryseriously. If given another chance, I promise we would have no future involvement.” I motion my thumb at Damon, who remains unmoved.
“Juror?” Judge Gillespy urges Damon.
He clears his throat and leans forward. “It won’t happen again.”
Despite having just expressed the same sentiment, somehow his words still cut me. The idea that last night can’t happen again is excruciating. It makes my desire for him grow, an immediate burst of craving at my core.
“Assuming that is true, that I can trust you both to keep your focus for the last leg of this process, then”—she pauses, sighs—“I am willing to keep this between us. For now. I suppose this...” She looks back and forth between us, searching for the right words. “This situation of yours isn’t directly impactful to the case...” Her voice trails off as if questioning whether she believes it.
I audibly exhale.
“We are so close to the end,” she says, making her way to the door to open it for us. “Get through deliberations, then after that, well, that is up to you.”
