Crisis by Robin Cook

him, the clerk sitting at a desk directly below the bench called out, "The estate of Patience Stanhope et al. versus Dr. Craig Bowman. The Honorable Justice Marvin Davidson presiding."
    With a studied motion, the judge snapped open an eyeglasses case and slipped on his rimless reading spectacles, positioning them low on his nose. He then looked over the tops at the plaintiff's table and said, "Will counsels identify themselves for the record." In contrast to the bailiff, he had no accent, and his voice was in the bass range.
    "Anthony Fasano, Your Honor," the plaintiff's attorney said quickly with an accent not too dissimilar to the bailiff's as he rose from his chair to a half-standing position as if supporting a heavy weight on his shoulders. "But most people call me Tony." He gestured first to his right. "I'm here on behalf of the plaintiff, Mr. Jordan Stanhope." He then gestured to his left. "Next to me is my able colleague, Ms. Renee Relf." He then quickly regained his seat as if he was too shy to be in the spotlight.
    Judge Davidson's eyes moved laterally to the defense table.
    "Randolph Bingham, Your Honor," the defense attorney said. In contrast to the plaintiff's attorney, he spoke slowly, emphasizing each syllable in a mellifluous voice. "I'm representing Dr. Craig Bowman, and I'm accompanied by Mr. Mark Cavendish."
    "And I can assume you people are ready to get under way," Judge Davidson said.
    Tony merely nodded in assent, whereas Randolph again rose to his feet. "There are some housekeeping motions before the court," he said.
    The judge glared at Randolph for a beat to suggest he didn't like or need to be reminded of preliminary motions. Looking down, he touched his index finger to his tongue before searching through the pages in his hands. The way he moved suggested he was vexed, as if Randolph's comment had awakened the renowned disdain he had for lawyers in general. He cleared his throat before saying, "Motions for dismissal denied. It is also the court's feeling that none of the proposed witnesses or evidence is either too graphic or too complex for the jury's ability to consider it. Consequently, all motions in limine denied." He raised his eyes and again glowered at Randolph as if saying "Take that," before switching his gaze to the court officer. "Bring in the venire! We have work to do." He was also known as a judge who liked to move things along.
    As if on cue, an expectant murmur arose again from the spectators beyond the bar. But they didn't have long to converse. The clerk rapidly pulled sixteen names from the jury hopper, and the court officer went to fetch the people selected from the jury pool. Within minutes, the sixteen were escorted into the room and sworn to begin the voir dire. The assemblage was visibly disparate, and almost equally divided between the sexes. Although the majority was Caucasian, other minorities were represented. Approximately three-quarters were dressed appropriately and respectfully, with half of them businessmen or businesswomen. The rest were attired in a mixture of T-shirts, sweatshirts, jeans, sandals, and hip-hop clothes, some of which had to be continuously hiked up to keep them from falling off. A few of the experienced venirepersons had brought reading material, mostly newspapers and magazines, although one late-middle-aged woman had a hardcover book. Some were awed by the surroundings, others brazenly dismissive, as the group filed into the jury box area and took their seats.
    Judge Davidson gave a short introduction, during which he thanked the prospective jurors for their service and told them how important it was, since they were to be finders of fact. He briefly described the selection process despite knowing they had already been apprised of the same in the jury room. He then began asking a series of questions to determine suitability, with the hope of weeding out those jurors with particular bias that might prejudice them against either the plaintiff or the