Ma’am, isn’t it true you had been drinking that day? (The complaining witness was kind of on my side at this point.)
Yes.
And in fact, you were a little tipsy?
Yes.
A little, intoxicated.
Yes.
Maybe highly intoxicated. (And I heard a murmur from the jury box.)
Yes.
In fact, you were sloshed. (And I looked at the juror in the front row. A local woman, maybe early forties. Working mother if I’m not mistaken, and louder I heard her whisper a particular word.)
Yes.
In fact, you were kind of drunk. (And this woman says the same word louder. Now you’re not really supposed to talk as a juror. It’s not like everyone gets to join in. Some attorneys go their whole career without a juror jumping in and trying to help them in their job.)
Yes.
In fact, you were blitzed. (And now I swear she’s almost yelling the word. It’s a little uncomfortable. I’m looking at the prosecutor and bailiff, but maybe because I’m standing about a foot and a half away, and it’s SO silent otherwise, maybe that’s why it resonates in my mind.)
Yes.
Now, here’s where my memory plays tricks on me. I know for a fact what I remember the word being. But I also know for a fact it absolutely was not that word, even though I cannot imagine what the word actually was. When I try to remember what it actually was, this is the word I remember, but logically looking back it couldn’t have been this remembered word. So with that forewarning, let me tell you my memory tells me the word she had been saying was:
“Sh__faced!”
So with my best Perry Mason finger-point, I ask the witness:
Isn’t it true you to borrow a word (I turn and look at the juror. We exchange smiles) were Sh__tfaced!!!!
And the witness, friendly and having seen all of this, leans forward in her witness chair, and entirely too loud into the microphone answers: OH YEAH!
