A juror on the inside and a woman on the outside manipulate a court trial involving a major gun manufacturer.

Rankin Fitch: Ah, I hate Baptists almost as much as I hate Democrats.
Frank Herrera: [On nominating Herman for foreman] But...
Eddie Weese: But he's blind, man. So what? So is justice, right?
Rankin Fitch: Everybody has a secret they don't want you to find.
Rankin Fitch: ...the thing of it is, I don't give a shit. What's more... I never have.
Rankin Fitch: Gentlemen, trials are too important to be left up to juries.
Marlee: Anybody can be gotten to.
Judge Harkin: I'm not sure, but I believe I'm buying lunch.
Rankin Fitch: What do you hope to achieve if you win? You gonna bring Jacob Wood back to life? No. You just ensure that his wife goes to the cemetery in a better car, and that the heel that she snaps on the way to the graveside belongs to a $1,200 shoe. You get your name in the paper. But Jacob Wood and all the other gun violence victims remain rotting in their crypts.
Rankin Fitch: Somebody add "class-clown" to Mr. Easter's ever expanding resume.
Nicholas Easter: [after anti-gun fanatic is dragged kicking and screaming from the courtroom during jury selection] Well, I guess that's lunch...
Rankin Fitch: You think your average juror is King Solomon? No, he's a roofer with a mortgage. He wants to go home and sit in his Barcalounger and let the cable TV wash over him. And this man doesn't give a single, solitary droplet of shit about truth, justice or your American way.
Nicholas Easter: [talking about a dead friend] Listen, I dunno if it would be inappropriate, but do you think we could do something today to remember him?
Rikki Coleman: We could say the Lord's Prayer.
Nicholas Easter: Well, I don't want to ask people to pray...
Millie Dupree: How about "God Bless America"?
Nicholas Easter: [with more conviction] Oh, I couldn't ask people to *sing*!
Doyle: It's a set-up.
Henry Jankle: ...I was under the impression that we'd already purchased ourselves a verdict.
Pulaski: [cleaning fountain] Ah, bilge ring keeps crappin' out, blocking up the damn pump. I got it now, Nick.
Nicholas Easter: Last time, you nearly took out every sink in the quarter, you know.
Pulaski: Hey, that was those kids messing with the water main.
[coughs from cigarette]
Nicholas Easter: You know, you should really quit those things.
Rankin Fitch: ...you're losing me my jury!
Nicholas Easter: I'm Nick Easter, sir. Juror number nine
Judge Harkin: And just what do you think you're doing outside of that Juror Room, Mr Easter-Juror-Number-Nine?
[last lines]
Marlee: I wanna go home.
Nicholas Easter: Okay, let's go home.