“Now, I have an appointment, which I’ll have to keep, so I’ll let you out through this door. The trial comes up day after tomorrow. We’re rushing it through. We had the Grand Jury indict Mrs. Breel, so we could dispense with a preliminary examination. We’re not going to waste any time. Remember, Mr. Diggers, we’re going to depend on you.”
And Sampson, with his hand on Diggers’ arm, escorted him to the door, pumped his arm up and down effusively, closed the door behind his departing visitor, and rubbed his hands together with a gesture of smug satisfaction.
Chapter 16
Judge Barnes, taking his place on the bench, looked over the crowded courtroom with judicial gravity, glanced down at the lawyers seated at their tables, and said, “Before starting this case, the Court wishes to say a few words to the gentlemen of the press, who are assembled here. The court realizes that occasionally judges try to enforce a ruling that there will be no picture taking. The result is that some of the more ingenious members of the press manage to smuggle in concealed cameras with high speed lenses, and obtain surreptitious pictures.
“This Court has always felt that the public were entitled to know what goes on in important trials. The Court’s objection to photographs has been due to the interruption of proceedings, and the confusion incident to the exploding of flashlights. Therefore, gentlemen, I want it understood that there will be no flashlight pictures taken while Court is in session, nor are there to be any so-called candid-camera shots taken which will have a tendency to annoy the parties, distract the attention of the witnesses, or counsel. In other words, gentlemen, I am leaving the matter of photographs in your hands, and depending upon your good taste, and your ability to cooperate with the Court. In the event you abuse the privilege, it will be withdrawn.”
“Gentlemen, are you ready to begin the trial of the People vs. Sarah Breel?” Counsel for both sides answered that they were ready. Judge Barnes looked down at the white-haired woman who sat in a wheel chair at Perry Mason’s side, her right leg encased in a plaster cast, her expression as completely tranquil as was that of the judge himself. “Very well, gentlemen, proceed.”
Mason got to his feet, and stood tall and straight, having about him that indefinable something which draws the eyes of spectators like a magnet. “Your Honor,” he said, in a resonant voice which seemed not particularly loud, yet filled every corner of the mahogany-paneled courtroom as though he were talking into a microphone, “the defendant in this case wants only a fair trial. She is satisfied the facts will speak for themselves. We offer to stipulate with the district attorney’s office that the first twelve persons called to the jury box may be sworn to act as jurors in the case.”
“You mean without asking any questions at all of the proposed jurors?” Sampson asked. Mason nodded.
“Suppose they’ve read about the case? Suppose they have some fixed opinion in it?”
“I don’t care,” Mason said. “All I want is twelve men and women of intelligence and fairness.” He included the jury panel with a sweeping gesture of his arm. “I’am satisfied that every one of these people possesses the necessary qualifications. Call twelve names. We’ll accept them. We don’t care whether they have any prejudices or not.”