mental anguish and the lost companionship and protection of her husband. Mental anguish is something she will carry with her every day for the rest of her life. Every wedding anniversary and holiday, every time she sees something in the house that reminds her of him, every morning when she awakens and every night when she goes to sleep, she will think of him, struck down. Negligently, mercilessly, senselessly. And for that reason we ask you for a total verdict of nine million dollars for Mrs. Corrigan and fifteen million dollars for the estate, a total, ladies and gentlemen, of twenty-four million dollars."
He let it sink in a moment, then continued, "And I don't apologize for asking for one dollar of it. You know, folks, they auctioned off a racehorse the other day for twenty-five million dollars."
Judge Leonard's bald head popped up. He wouldn't mind five points of that investment.
"No apologies," Cefalo repeated. "I'm told some Japanese fellows paid forty million dollars for a picture by … what's the name of that painter fellow, Van Gogh? And our very own United States Air Force pays millions and millions of dollars for each jet fighter. But you know, they build an ejection seat into each plane, 'cause if there's any trouble, they want to save the pilot's life, let the plane go down in flames. A life is worth more than a thirty-million-dollar airplane. So, no sir, I'm not going to apologize for asking you folks for twenty-four million dollars."
Dan Cefalo was just about done not apologizing. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts for a final assault. He walked toward the defense table, where Roger Stanton had broken a sweat. Cefalo took a deep breath and said, "Philip Corrigan went into that hospital and said, 'Take good care of me, Doctor. Use all your training and expertise. Don't cut me open and let me bleed to death.' They put him to sleep and there he was, innocent as a baby, at this man's mercy, and this man chopped him up."
With that Cefalo turned and stabbed a finger at Roger Stanton. J'accuse. Then he walked to the rail of the jury box and leaned on it, a close friend of all six honest folks.
"You know, some fancy writer, I don't know his name, once wrote, 'For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, it might have been.' The saddest are these, it might have been. What might have been for Philip and Melanie Corrigan, we will never know. Perhaps children, other lives to share with their own total love. But Philip Corrigan, who trusted this man with his life, left this world all too soon. And now Melanie Corrigan trusts you with her life. She has only one chance. If she is unhappy with the result, she can't come back and try again. Next week this courtroom might have some fender-bender case or a dispute over a parking space at a condo. This case is here and now and it is a tragic one and a substantial one. Don't let Melanie Corrigan walk out of here and say, 'It might have been.' Thank you and God bless you."
God again. We now knew that Cefalo was for God and against communism. He sat down and Melanie Corrigan opened the faucets. She buried her head into Cefalo's shoulder. He patted her between the shoulder blades. None of the jurors even saw me stand up and approach the lectern. I felt my throat tighten. Roger Stanton's face was frozen with panic. It was important to show him that Cefalo's stellar performance did not bother me. I did this by not tossing my breakfast into the jury box.
It was a very lonely walk, those half dozen steps to center stage. I paused and finally the jurors turned toward me, their eyes challenging. I thanked them for their attention without waving the flag in their faces. I told them I only had one chance to speak to them, and then Mr. Cefalo would get up for his rebuttal. They seemed to like that. I told them that he had a second chance because the plaintiff had the burden of proof. As the defendant, we didn't have to prove anything. And then I said, let's see
He let it sink in a moment, then continued, "And I don't apologize for asking for one dollar of it. You know, folks, they auctioned off a racehorse the other day for twenty-five million dollars."
Judge Leonard's bald head popped up. He wouldn't mind five points of that investment.
"No apologies," Cefalo repeated. "I'm told some Japanese fellows paid forty million dollars for a picture by … what's the name of that painter fellow, Van Gogh? And our very own United States Air Force pays millions and millions of dollars for each jet fighter. But you know, they build an ejection seat into each plane, 'cause if there's any trouble, they want to save the pilot's life, let the plane go down in flames. A life is worth more than a thirty-million-dollar airplane. So, no sir, I'm not going to apologize for asking you folks for twenty-four million dollars."
Dan Cefalo was just about done not apologizing. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts for a final assault. He walked toward the defense table, where Roger Stanton had broken a sweat. Cefalo took a deep breath and said, "Philip Corrigan went into that hospital and said, 'Take good care of me, Doctor. Use all your training and expertise. Don't cut me open and let me bleed to death.' They put him to sleep and there he was, innocent as a baby, at this man's mercy, and this man chopped him up."
With that Cefalo turned and stabbed a finger at Roger Stanton. J'accuse. Then he walked to the rail of the jury box and leaned on it, a close friend of all six honest folks.
"You know, some fancy writer, I don't know his name, once wrote, 'For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, it might have been.' The saddest are these, it might have been. What might have been for Philip and Melanie Corrigan, we will never know. Perhaps children, other lives to share with their own total love. But Philip Corrigan, who trusted this man with his life, left this world all too soon. And now Melanie Corrigan trusts you with her life. She has only one chance. If she is unhappy with the result, she can't come back and try again. Next week this courtroom might have some fender-bender case or a dispute over a parking space at a condo. This case is here and now and it is a tragic one and a substantial one. Don't let Melanie Corrigan walk out of here and say, 'It might have been.' Thank you and God bless you."
God again. We now knew that Cefalo was for God and against communism. He sat down and Melanie Corrigan opened the faucets. She buried her head into Cefalo's shoulder. He patted her between the shoulder blades. None of the jurors even saw me stand up and approach the lectern. I felt my throat tighten. Roger Stanton's face was frozen with panic. It was important to show him that Cefalo's stellar performance did not bother me. I did this by not tossing my breakfast into the jury box.
It was a very lonely walk, those half dozen steps to center stage. I paused and finally the jurors turned toward me, their eyes challenging. I thanked them for their attention without waving the flag in their faces. I told them I only had one chance to speak to them, and then Mr. Cefalo would get up for his rebuttal. They seemed to like that. I told them that he had a second chance because the plaintiff had the burden of proof. As the defendant, we didn't have to prove anything. And then I said, let's see
Similar Books
