Sean
"A juror was tweeting during selection? Are you fucking kidding me? Which one?"
"Juror number four," Tristan answered.
"Damn it."
Good God, this case was driving me insane.
"Who s replacing juror number four?"
They just looked around at each other before dashing for their notes. How the hell could I win a case with these idiots?!
"Who s replacing juror number four?" I yelled.
"Deborah Padovano," Nora said, as she walked in holding two trays of coffee.
"You, get up and take the coffee," I pointed at one of my associates, and then to her, "You, sit down and talk, since no one else here seems to know a goddamn thing."
They switched, and she rushed to the seat, grabbing one file from the stack in front us, and handed it to me.
"
Deborah Padovano, age 72, her husband died six years ago of a heart attack and she never remarried, nor has any kids," she recited off the top of her head.