“Yes, we agree that whoever committed this crime did so with cold and calculated premeditation.” Here I bring my voice to a strident pitch. “But the evidence will show,” I say, “that this person, this killer, was not the defendant, Talia Potter.”

I spend some time dwelling on the scene of this crime, Ben’s office, the freight elevator, the distances the killer had to negotiate to complete each stage of this crime, the use of the shotgun. And I ask, “Are these the acts of a woman? Are these the acts of Talia Potter?

“As you hear the evidence that we are about to present, I want you to consider the fact that there are many ways to kill,” I tell them, “many more easy, sanitized ways to murder than this. As you watch this evidence unfold, ask yourselves, Is it likely, is it probable that if Talia Potter were going to kill her husband, she would do it in this way?”

I leave them with thoughts of Coop’s implausible furniture dolly and watch as Nelson and Meeks confer over pencils poised on pads. This is a problem for their case. In helping me, in warding off the theories of an accomplice, wittingly or not, Coop has put a major hole in their case against Talia.

I retreat to the counsel table for a drink of water, then return to the railing.

“Who is Talia Potter?” I ask them. This is vital, to humanize Talia in their eyes. I take them on a tour of her life, her bootstrap beginnings and her rise through effort and education to become a prosperous businesswoman, I say, a respected member of the community in her own right.

I remind them that the only reason the defendant is here on this charge is that the state has denied her the chance to refute these charges, these accusations of guilt, before the grand jury which indicted her.

“Those were secret proceedings,” I say, “proceedings which she was not allowed to attend, proceedings controlled entirely by the prosecution, before which she was not allowed to be represented by an attorney. That is why she is here before you today.”

From the looks, I can tell that this is not something that they have previously considered, the elemental lack of fairness in the process that has landed Talia in her present predicament.

“The court that bound her over for trial here did not apply the standard of proof beyond a reasonable doubt,” I say, “but merely looked to see if there was any evidence, no matter how slight, no matter how remote, that might implicate Talia Potter.”

I glance at Acosta. He’s not going to quibble with me over the fine points of probable cause.

“You, ladies and gentlemen, are the first people to look at the facts of this case and to apply that critical standard of proof required by law, proof beyond a reasonable doubt. For all intents this is Talia Potter’s first fair opportunity to prove her innocence. Yes, I said prove her innocence, this despite the fact that by law the burden is on the state to prove guilt.

“This,” I say, “is why it is vital that you arrive here without preconceived notions.”

I strike at the concealed theme of every prosecutor in every case, the unspoken implication that society is ravaged by an epidemic of crime sweeping through our lives.

“You must purge your minds of such thoughts. Such concepts violate the oath which you have taken as jurors. You are not here like some committee of vigilantes,” I tell them, “charged with exacting vengeance on the part of society.”

Then I move to more manifest issues at hand. “The state attempts to put passion on trial here,” I say. “They have gone to extraordinary lengths to tell you about liaisons with two men at a motel.”

This I can’t ignore. To do so is to give the issue of Talia’s infidelity the luster of hard evidence, to allow Nelson to portray it as part of the motive for murder.

“We are not children, ladies and gentlemen. None of us is so naive as to believe that such things do not occur. We understand that all marriages are not models made in heaven. The pictures of idyllic couples-Desi and Lucy, Ozzie and Harriet, visions from our youth-these, ladies and gentlemen, are myth. We know that. That infidelity may, from time to time, creep into a marriage does not mean that two people don’t love each other, that they are anything more or less than human beings with all of their failings and frailties.

“But here we are talking of murder. And despite what the prosecutor would have you believe, the fact that Talia Potter may have been seen at a motel with a man, or with an army of men, does not make her a murderer.”

Now I focus on them hard.

“Talia Potter is no murderer,” I say, “despite the protestations of this prosecutor.” Now it is Nelson’s turn. I am pointing my cocked finger at him.

In the guise of an opening statement, I am giving to the jury a glaring summation of the state’s case, its weaknesses and shortcomings. This is the advantage of deferring our opening statement. I tread dangerously close, then cross the line into clear argument, but Nelson does not object, careful that he should not appear to be unfair in his dealings with the defense. After all, we did not object during his speech to the jury. His continuing silence is an invitation. I take broad latitude.

Acosta is glaring at me from the bench. Objection or not, he cannot restrain himself longer.

“Mr. Madriani, your argument will come later,” he says. “This is the time for an opening statement. That is what we will hear, nothing else.”

I nod toward the bench, rebuked a little, but the point still made.

“Very well, Your Honor.” I return my gaze to the jury. I modulate my voice a little and change tack. “When we are finished,” I tell them, “I will ask you a single central question, an inquiry that strikes to the heart of this case and that will lead you to your ultimate verdict in this trial. I would ask you to prepare yourselves now and through the balance of this trial to answer that single question.” I have their full attention now. They are wondering what this is, this magic bullet that will guide all reason.

“I will ask you whether in the presentation of its case,” I say, looking and pointing at their table, where Meeks seems a little hapless, “the state has produced any compelling evidence, even the slightest compelling evidence, of the guilt of Talia Potter.

“Oh, there are things in this case with which we do not disagree, Mr. Nelson and myself,” I say. “We agree with the state that Ben Potter was murdered.”

Still not sure that this is an opening statement, Acosta appears satisfied that he has at least squeezed a concession from me.

“On that we agree,” I say. “This was no suicide. We agree, whoever perpetrated this dark crime did so with cold and calculated premeditation.

“But you have seen the inconsistencies in the state’s case, the holes in their evidence, the unexplained facts. What does this evidence portend, ladies and gentlemen? What does it tell you?”

“Mr. Madriani.” The Coconut is on me from the bench, warning me again.

I ignore him and answer my own question.

“It reveals, as we will demonstrate by our evidence”-I turn to Acosta, my language now back on track in the formula of an opening statement, what we will show-“that someone has gone to great lengths to make it appear as if Talia Potter has committed this crime. Someone with a great deal to gain, someone with a compelling reason to murder Ben Potter.

“What you have heard thus far is highly circumstantial, bits and pieces of information, from which the state expects you to make quantum leaps in logic, to draw inferences that defy reason, to find Talia Potter guilty of a murder she did not commit.”

Acosta is fuming from the bench.

“But I would ask you to wait, ladies and gentlemen, to wait until you have heard and seen all of the evidence including that which we will now present.

“At the conclusion of this case, I will ask you to contrast the circumstances as portrayed by the state with what you will see and hear in the next several days. From this point on, ladies and gentlemen, you will receive hard, compelling evidence, evidence demonstrating beyond all reasonable doubt who killed Ben Potter, and why.”