The Jury’s Out

It was the trial of the millennium: the People of Deer Creek vs Eriabas Jennison. After the defense rested, the jury retired to consider the verdict. That was over 30 years ago and, as far as anyone knew, they were still there. No hung jury. No mistrial. Not even an inability to agree on a verdict--just the inability to do it in a reasonable amount of time.

Jennison's attorneys, the law firm of Goatsky and Lambsky, were not very good at trying defense cases, but they were considered geniuses at picking juries. They leaned heavily on the unemployable who had everything to gain in making $50/day-- indefinitely.

The latest Journal of The Professional Lawyer magazine reported that there were over 120 trials still in deliberation under the Goatsky and Lambsky representation--hundreds of jurors in endless deliberation.

It was easy work. In air-conditioning. Breakfasts lunches, and even hot suppers whenever recesses came later in the day. They were sequestered at the layers' insistence at the local 4- or 5-star hotel in town. With room service and bar fridges. They were always going to crime scenes in fancy air-conditioned motor coaches.

No one quite knows how they pulled it off, but there were even some jurors sitting in on more than one trial deliberation session at a time, which qualified them for time-and-a-half overtime. Goatsky & Lambsky--G&L--often went on month-long vacations when their juries began to deliberate. Goatsky had even taken a cruise around the world at one point; Lambsky had undergone chemo and radiation for cancer during that time, too. Still, the jury remained "out."

In the case of Eriabus Jennison, he had been indicted on conspiracy charges, which is the way prosecutors can catch people when they don't really have any actual evidence. In Jennison's case, he was accused of conspiring to be a Public Enemy.

That's it.

Not even Eriabus knew what he had--or had not--done. Sure, everyone knew he had hired all those mimes in town, but they weren't talking. Not under oath, anyway. And, yes, Eriabus had violated several sodomy laws in the privacy of his own home, but he was alone, thus creating the need to charge him with "Conspiracy between him and unnamed others," which is a real thing.

He had even been blamed for the serial murders of those at the hands of someone he was in a previous life. The defense had claimed he had paid back his debt to society, having been on death row several times in previous lives, sat in that chair or gotten that injection or taken the bullets of the firing squad--you name it, he'd suffered it. He had paid.

"In full!" Goatsky had bellowed and been fined $150 for contempt of court.

For his part, Eriabus just sat at the defense team table and glared at the jury members. There was something threatening about it. When they had risen and retreated to the deliberations room, they were all double-jointed with their tails between their legs.

Eriabus spoke for the last time. "Take yer time, fellas," he said, directed at these miserable losers.

Now it's been three decades, and all of the jurors are multimillionaires due to jury pay accruing, being set aside, and placed in interest-bearing accounts. One juror had even completed online night school to become an HVAC tradesman but had never been hired as such.

This is why all of the networks had swarmed to the courthouse when it was announced, incredulously, what had never been expected: "The jury has reached a verdict."

It didn't go Eriabus' way.

Lambsky had arranged his release on his own recognizance and spoke with him on the way out of the court building, now under renovation for the third time since the trial had begun. Goatsky had been dead over eight years by this time.

"What now," Eriabus asked.

"Well, Eriabus," Lambsky said with his Southern charm. "Lemme ask you something, if I could."

"Sure."

"How old are you?"

"Oh, I'm up there. Not the spry guy indicted thirty years ago."

"Yea," Lambsky agreed. "Last century, I believe."

"Hell, it was last Millennium."

"Yea, you're right, you're right."

"Anyway, I'm 76. And why is that important?"

"Well, the judge agreed to let you stay out while this thing is under appeal."

"That's great," Eriagus said with a laugh and a sputter and a hack or two.

"Yea, those take a long time to even work their way through the system. None of this speedy-trial bullshit anymore."

Eriaubus hugged Lambsky. Then he pulled away from him. "Those jurors..."

"Yes?"

"Am I responsible for their unemployment?"

"Unemployment?! Dang, Eriabus. We're talking pension for them. Me too."