“Then I guess it’s unanimous.”
Michelle finally smiled. “Hallelujah. And by the way, he’s easy on the eyes. That’ll help.”
It really would. Being attractive matters everywhere-getting jobs, getting laid, and yes, getting acquitted by a jury of your peers. No one can resist a pretty face. As long as it’s not too pretty.
Back in my first year of private practice, I had a bombshell of a client. Tall, blonde, built like a Victoria’s Secret model. She was charged with grand theft. A teller for a very large chain of banks whose title ends with the name of a country, my client used her position to filch personal account information from almost a hundred customers and then gave it to her boyfriend. He pocketed more than sixty grand before they got caught.
The judge gave me every ruling, every jury instruction, and every lesser-included charge I asked for-and not because he was impressed by my legal genius. He practically stepped on his tongue every time he took the bench. But the jury hammered her. Hard. I talked to them afterward, and in stray comments here and there, I found out why. The women hated her, and the men saw her as the girl they could never get.
Dale Pearson looked good but not spectacular. So we were safe, at least in that regard.
I decided not to tell them about that flashpoint moment when I mentioned his daughter. It might mean something-but it might not. And there was something… satisfying about the way he was protective of Lisa, even if it was a little over the top.
I gave them a quick rundown of what Dale had said. Then I got into our immediate chores. “Alex, I’ll need you to call the IO so we can arrange to surrender Dale when the DA files charges.” I explained what an IO was-the lead detective, also known as the investigating officer-and how to find out who it was.
Michelle cut me off. “I’ll get Alex up to speed on that stuff, Sam. You just do your thing.” And thankfully, Michelle knew the ropes, because arranging for Dale’s surrender was going to be serious business. The arrest of a veteran detective would have reporters swarming the skies in jet packs. I started to head back to my office, but Michelle held up a hand. “Don’t forget you have Sheri again tonight. The car should be here any minute.”
“Cancel it, Michy. I’ve got real work to do.”
Michelle gave me her lightning-bolt glare. “I absolutely will not. You need her on your side now more than ever.”
