He looked like he didn't really belong on a jury. He was smartly dressed, with a confident air like a man who was going places. It couldn't be that he was too stupid to avoid this onerous civic burden. Partin's eyes went no further. He leaned over and whispered to his criminal defense attorney, Martin Goldman.
Nobody has enough of what's important.
You wouldn't be helping me make this little arrangement either. Goldman leaned toward one of his investigators and gave him some instructions. The investigator immediately left the courtroom and then returned in a few minutes with a briefcase. He placed the black leather case neatly on the defense table. He snapped the lock, repositioned the case, snapped the lock again, and repeated the procedure twice again.