an opposing candidate's wife of being a prac-ticing thes-pian.
"They might as well have brought Gino, my butcher, in here to describe back surgery. You know what they call coroners in the medical profession? Canoemakers. They just chop, chop, chop it up like hollowing out a log."
"Objection, Your Honor! That's not a legitimate comment on the evidence." I don't like to object during closing argument. It sometimes angers the jurors who like hearing lawyers beat their breasts, but I wanted Cefalo to know I hadn't fallen asleep.
"Overruled," Judge Leonard said.
"Canoemakers," Cefalo repeated, needling me. "Riggs has never done one laminectomy. Not one! Mr. Lassiter should be ashamed."
With that Cefalo turned and looked toward me. So did the jurors, looking peeved, wondering if I tried to bamboozle them. Good strategy, avoiding what Riggs had said, just attacking his credentials. Sooner or later, though, he'd have to address the testimony or risk giving that ball to me on an open field. Roger Stanton was squirming so much his chair squeaked on the old tile floor. I patted his arm, a coach telling a player to calm down.
"You heard the real expert, Dr. Harvey Watkins, on the first day of trial. It was only a few days ago, but it seems like a lifetime, so let me go over it. He said that it's malpractice to pierce the aorta with the rongeur. And it was Philip Corrigan's aorta that burst later that night. No one disagrees about that. All Mr. Riggs—excuse me, Dr. Riggs— all he said was he didn't know how the aorta got torn in front. But did he tell you what caused the aneurysm? No! He had no answer. The way I figure it, Dr. Stanton here was poking around so much, it's lucky the rongeur didn't come out the belly button."
Roger Stanton groaned. I had nearly forgotten how Dan Cefalo could make hokum sound like the gospel. I also had forgotten to tell Roger Stanton not to have a stroke during the plaintiff's closing. I still had a few things to say if the jury didn't draw and quarter my client first.
"I do regret one thing," Cefalo said, lowering his voice. "Unfortunately, Dr. Watkins was taken ill shortly before his rebuttal testimony. He was not as articulate as he might have been. But I'm sure you got the drift. It was Dr. Stanton's negligence and that alone which caused the death of Philip Corrigan and left this young woman a grief-stricken widow."
On cue Melanie Corrigan dabbed her eyes. Cefalo was gearing for the transition into the damages phase of his argument. He moved closer to the jury box and looked each juror directly in the eyes, moving slowly from one to the other.
"So, in summary, there is no question about liability. No, ladies and gentlemen, this is not a case of 'who wins.' This is a case of 'how much.' And this is a very substantial case because Philip Corrigan was a very substantial man. He was a builder, a developer, a man who employed hundreds and brought commerce to thousands with the first chain of shopping centers ever built in the Florida Keys. Before Philip Corrigan, there was no Zippy Mart south of Homestead. Before Philip Corrigan, there were no condos built in the flood plain. They said it couldn't be done, but Philip Corrigan did it."
Two jurors nodded, impressed.
"In a few minutes, the judge will instruct you as to the elements of damages, and they are all very substantial. You heard the accountants testify as to the loss of net accumulations of the estate of Philip Corrigan because of his untimely and tragic death. You will take their written report into the jury room. You heard the widow, Mrs. Corrigan, testify as to her grief. God willing, you will carry that grief with you into your deliberations and relieve some of it with your verdict."
God on the plaintiff's side. I didn't like that one bit. The widow's tears were coming now. Melanie Corrigan turned away, leaving the jury with her sculpted profile.
"The judge will instruct you that Mrs. Corrigan is entitled to be compensated for her
"They might as well have brought Gino, my butcher, in here to describe back surgery. You know what they call coroners in the medical profession? Canoemakers. They just chop, chop, chop it up like hollowing out a log."
"Objection, Your Honor! That's not a legitimate comment on the evidence." I don't like to object during closing argument. It sometimes angers the jurors who like hearing lawyers beat their breasts, but I wanted Cefalo to know I hadn't fallen asleep.
"Overruled," Judge Leonard said.
"Canoemakers," Cefalo repeated, needling me. "Riggs has never done one laminectomy. Not one! Mr. Lassiter should be ashamed."
With that Cefalo turned and looked toward me. So did the jurors, looking peeved, wondering if I tried to bamboozle them. Good strategy, avoiding what Riggs had said, just attacking his credentials. Sooner or later, though, he'd have to address the testimony or risk giving that ball to me on an open field. Roger Stanton was squirming so much his chair squeaked on the old tile floor. I patted his arm, a coach telling a player to calm down.
"You heard the real expert, Dr. Harvey Watkins, on the first day of trial. It was only a few days ago, but it seems like a lifetime, so let me go over it. He said that it's malpractice to pierce the aorta with the rongeur. And it was Philip Corrigan's aorta that burst later that night. No one disagrees about that. All Mr. Riggs—excuse me, Dr. Riggs— all he said was he didn't know how the aorta got torn in front. But did he tell you what caused the aneurysm? No! He had no answer. The way I figure it, Dr. Stanton here was poking around so much, it's lucky the rongeur didn't come out the belly button."
Roger Stanton groaned. I had nearly forgotten how Dan Cefalo could make hokum sound like the gospel. I also had forgotten to tell Roger Stanton not to have a stroke during the plaintiff's closing. I still had a few things to say if the jury didn't draw and quarter my client first.
"I do regret one thing," Cefalo said, lowering his voice. "Unfortunately, Dr. Watkins was taken ill shortly before his rebuttal testimony. He was not as articulate as he might have been. But I'm sure you got the drift. It was Dr. Stanton's negligence and that alone which caused the death of Philip Corrigan and left this young woman a grief-stricken widow."
On cue Melanie Corrigan dabbed her eyes. Cefalo was gearing for the transition into the damages phase of his argument. He moved closer to the jury box and looked each juror directly in the eyes, moving slowly from one to the other.
"So, in summary, there is no question about liability. No, ladies and gentlemen, this is not a case of 'who wins.' This is a case of 'how much.' And this is a very substantial case because Philip Corrigan was a very substantial man. He was a builder, a developer, a man who employed hundreds and brought commerce to thousands with the first chain of shopping centers ever built in the Florida Keys. Before Philip Corrigan, there was no Zippy Mart south of Homestead. Before Philip Corrigan, there were no condos built in the flood plain. They said it couldn't be done, but Philip Corrigan did it."
Two jurors nodded, impressed.
"In a few minutes, the judge will instruct you as to the elements of damages, and they are all very substantial. You heard the accountants testify as to the loss of net accumulations of the estate of Philip Corrigan because of his untimely and tragic death. You will take their written report into the jury room. You heard the widow, Mrs. Corrigan, testify as to her grief. God willing, you will carry that grief with you into your deliberations and relieve some of it with your verdict."
God on the plaintiff's side. I didn't like that one bit. The widow's tears were coming now. Melanie Corrigan turned away, leaving the jury with her sculpted profile.
"The judge will instruct you that Mrs. Corrigan is entitled to be compensated for her
Similar Books
