CHAPTER ONE

OPENING STATEMENTS

Is the state ready to proceed with its opening statement?”

“Yes, Your Honor, we are,” said District Attorney Anthony Jacobs as he turned to look at the defendant, Bernard James, aka Dutch.

He couldn’t help but sneer as his lips tightened, eyeing the notorious Dutch. He savored the sight of the Armani-clad black man as he imagined the wooden chair Dutch would sit in while begging for his life as electric shocks jolted the breath out of him. Jacobs had been waiting for this moment his whole life. The day he’d prosecute and convict the infamous “Dutch.” Anthony Jacobs had risen through the District Attorney’s Office by making himself indispensable to his mentor, District Attorney Fred Ligotta. Old Man Ligotta, as Jacobs referred to him, had brought Anthony up, priming him for this very moment.

Ligotta himself had an illustrious career. He managed to amass the most trial convictions of all of his New Jersey contemporaries within the last thirty years. And although most DAs preferred a plea to a long and costly trial, Ligotta never gave a defendant the option. It’s not my fuckin’ money. Besides, any time some piece of shit breaks the law in my county, I want the bastard to pay in full. And they usually did, either under the table into Ligotta’s pockets or by serving years in prison. It was Ligotta’s way of saying either pay through the nose or pay out the ass. But, then there was Dutch, the only trophy that had constantly eluded Ligotta, and he was now sitting across the floor at Jacobs’s mercy.

How the fuck does a piece of shit nigger like Dutch keep getting away? Christ! This was Ligotta’s attitude whenever an informant conveniently came up missing or the police seemed to make stupid errors that allowed cases to be dismissed. Why don’t they make those errors with anyone else? Ligotta was constantly questioning the cat with nine lives. Even judges seemed to shy away from cases dealing with him. Dutch’s talons were sunk deep in the machinery of the city and Ligotta died not knowing why or how. But, for some strange reason, within the past few years, lady luck had defected from Dutch’s camp as top men in Dutch’s organization took big falls, landing right in Jacobs’s lap. I know you’re smiling, old man, Jacobs told himself as he thought of Old Man Ligotta. I got him. And this was true. Jacobs did have Dutch where he wanted him. Along with the informants, there was a mountain of evidence, and even though it was all circumstantial, it was enough for Jacobs to do what Ligotta had failed to. And it felt good, damn good. Nothing, not graduating law school, not his first conviction, not even his election as district attorney, could compare to the feeling of power and surge of potency he felt as his dick hardened right there in the courtroom, something that rarely happened outside the courthouse, let alone in it. As he rose, he tried to discreetly readjust his crotch, then cleared his throat and approached the jurors’ box.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am District Attorney Anthony Jacobs and I want to thank you for your attendance. I know some of you may deem my gratitude unwarranted, because I am sure if you didn’t have to be here, you wouldn’t.”

The jurors acknowledged the truthfulness of his statement with slight body gestures and nervous smiles.

“But who would be here? I know I wouldn’t. Trust me, I feel the same as you. I do. I mean, I would love to be somewhere playing golf or at my daughter’s piano recital or just enjoying a quiet day at home, but I can’t. I can’t because this is my duty,” he said as he brought his hand down firmly on the jurors’ box railing to emphasize his point. “It is my duty to be here just like it is yours. Your duty to assure your fellow citizens, whom you represent, who are playing golf, or at the piano recital or just relaxing at home, that the streets will remain safe to do such things. Just as it is the duty of the police to do the same for you and me,” then, pausing, he added, “duty,” for more effect. “But above and beyond our civic duty, above and beyond the inconvenience, duty sometimes imposes on the dutiful; therefore, it is our right!”

The word “right” got the attention of the apathetic yet patriotic all-white jury, as it would that of any other red-blooded American of their ilk.

“It is your right to be safe in your homes. It is your right to oversee justice and the workings of your judicial system and it is your right to be heard as citizens. Especially when citizenship is taken for granted and…” he paused, glancing over at Dutch.

Who the fuck he think he looking at? thought Dutch to himself as he eyeballed Jacobs’s cracker ass right back.

“… when the uncivilized play mockery on our sense of security,” said Jacobs, finishing his sentence.

Who the fuck he think he calling uncivilized? Dutch thought of the nerve this guy had as he listened.

Jacobs walked slowly away from the jurors’ box as he cleaned his glasses. Turning back to them, he placed his glasses on his face and began again in a more subtle tone.

“I know we are all God-fearing human beings, and those here who aren’t, well, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t recognize the law, and you certainly wouldn’t be sitting here if you didn’t know the difference between right and wrong. So, I say to you, what if I could present to you the very embodiment of wrong?” he questioned, pointing straight at Dutch. “What if the cause of murder, thievery, victimization, and cruelty stood before you? Would you hesitate to look wrong in the face? Would you banish wrong from our society? Would you turn away from guilt if it were staring you in the face?”

No one budged. The jurors were too busy remembering all the wrong that had ever been done to them and feeling Jacobs’s every word as if he was preaching to them from a Bible. Dutch just looked at the jurors as they sat there listening to this motherfucker like he was Santa Claus or somebody. One lady was taking notes, another had her mouth open, and an old man was clinging to Jacobs’s every word. You got to be kiddin’ me.

Jacobs stood there, inwardly smiling gleefully, as the look of vindication subtly played across the faces of the jurors. I knew I’d get them with my opening statement. Jacobs had picked the jurors sitting before him precisely and to the T. Despite Dutch’s defense team’s attempts to dilute the jury pool, Jacobs had succeeded with this jury.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I know what you would do if given that chance. I’m here today to give it to you. I will prove to you beyond any reasonable doubt that Bernard James, aka Dutch, is the embodiment of this city’s wrong. He is the root cause of the blanket of fear prevalent in this city and the degradation of our civil order. It all stems from the actions of this man!” blustered Jacobs as he pointed his finger straight at Dutch’s head.

“Yo, man, who he think he pointin’ at like that and shit?” whispered Dutch as he leaned into the ear of Michael Glass, lead counsel for his defense team.

“Don’t pay him any mind; just act like you’re writing notes. Don’t let the jury see you get upset,” said Michael Glass as he watched Jacobs give his opening statement.

“I will show a path of corruption and waywardness for this man’s short life of twenty-eight years. Bernard James is an instigator, an antagonist, and he’s the head of the organized crime that has terrorized New Jersey for the past twelve years.”

Jacobs stopped for a moment and wiped the sweat from his brow with his silken handkerchief as he gauged the temperament of his captive audience. He felt satisfied, so he continued in the same vein to drive it on home.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I will prove to you that no man, no woman, and no child will be safe in this city until this man, Bernard James, is behind bars for the rest of his life. So, I’m giving you the chance of a lifetime today to do what no man under the sun has ever had a chance to do… find guilt in Bernard James and destroy him. I’m giving you the chance to look evil and wrong in the face and once and for all in the name of the state of New Jersey say that one word: guilty. Ladies and gentlemen, it may be your duty to oversee justice, but it’s your right to guarantee your own safety. Thank you.”

District Attorney Anthony Jacobs looked over at Dutch as he slowly returned to his seat and sat down. The only thing missing for the starry-eyed jurors was the closing of a curtain.