The Furthest City Light by Jeanne Winer Page A

who’s on trial, not you.” He ran a hand through his black wavy hair and then risked an encouraging smile. Christ, he was much too handsome. I needed jurors who could empathize with the defendant but not be swayed by the prosecutor’s good looks. Twelve intelligent lesbians would have been perfect.
    I took a deep breath. Jeff was right. Not about my taking it too seriously (you can never take a trial too seriously), but that my feelings were too intense. I needed to back off a little. To be effective, I had to project confidence and sincerity, not desperation.
    “You’re right,” I told him. “I guess I’ve been more hostile than necessary. I’m sorry.”
    “It’s okay. I know you care about her. I think she’s guilty, but I certainly don’t think she’s evil. Did you ever consider any kind of mental state defense?”
    I stood up, grabbing my yellow pad off the judge’s desk. “Goddamn it, Jeff. She’s not guilty and she’s not crazy. She’s a battered woman who defended herself.”
    He put his hands up as if fending off a rabid dog. “Look, Rachel, maybe we shouldn’t talk until the trial is over.”
    “Good idea,” I said and stormed out.
    As is often the case, the jury we ended up with, six men and six women, represented a compromise for both sides. Jeff and I each used up all of our peremptory challenges weeding out the jurors we considered most likely to buy our opponent’s arguments. Jeff dumped teachers, social workers and yuppies, the obvious liberals who might be sympathetic or even identify with the defendant. I scratched the accountants, engineers and born-again Christians, the kind of people who tended to discount the mysterious paradoxical aspects of the human psyche, or in the case of the two born-agains, those who might condemn Emily’s dissatisfaction with her marriage, never mind the way she’d finally ended it.
    In his opening statement, Jeff assumed a low-key, this-is-the-way-it-is-folks tone of voice, saving the prosecutorial passion for his closing argument. Now he was just doing his job upholding the rule of law. For fifteen minutes, he laid out all of the inarguable facts that proved beyond a reasonable doubt that after deliberation Emily had intentionally stabbed her husband.
    When Jeff finally sat down, Judge Thomas asked if the defense wished to make an opening statement as well.
    “Yes Judge,” I said, then stood up and walked to the podium. Sincerity and confidence, I reminded myself, not desperation.
     “Ladies and gentlemen,” I began, “this case is about the right of a battered woman to defend herself. In order to understand why Emily Watkins stabbed her husband, whom she both loved and feared, you will need to understand a psychological phenomenon that I hope none of you knows anything about firsthand. It’s called the battered woman syndrome. Almost a decade ago, in the late seventies, experts in the field of domestic violence began recognizing that women who were physically and psychologically battered over an extended period of time exhibited remarkably similar characteristics. In this case, the evidence will show that Hal Watkins battered his wife Emily over the course of their ten-year relationship and that she, too, exhibits these characteristics.
    “During the second half of the trial, an expert, Dr. Karen Midman, will take the stand and explain the syndrome so that those of us who may be unfamiliar with domestic violence will be able to understand it. Ultimately, Dr. Midman will testify that in her opinion Emily Watkins has been suffering from this syndrome for years. Even more importantly, Dr. Midman will testify that in her expert opinion, when Emily Watkins stabbed her husband, she was acting in self-defense.”
    I paused to let the information sink in, then spent the next ten minutes listing some of the more important witnesses I intended to call, explaining how each person’s testimony would help the jury understand how and why my client had