Southern Lights

Chapter 16

Alexa sat next to her mother on the flight home. The whole weekend had been festive and fun, and Muriel was glad she had gone with her, particularly for the opening of the envelopes when Savannah found out she’d gotten into Princeton. It was an unforgettable moment for them all.

But Muriel also noticed something different now about Alexa. She wasn’t as angry, or bitter, and seemed more at peace. Her mother suspected that having to go back to Charleston had done her good. She had faced all the demons of her past. Tom, his mother, Luisa. They seemed to have shrunk over time. She knew that Alexa’s marriage was still a huge loss to her. But when you saw who Tom really was, how weak and self-serving, maybe she hadn’t lost so much after all. She hoped Alexa knew that, and had seen it better now. He was a very selfish man, and the only reason he wanted Alexa back was because it hadn’t worked out with Luisa. If it had, he’d have had no regrets at all. Muriel thought he had gotten what he deserved, a woman who respected him as little as he respected himself. As Alexa had been recently, she was reminded of Ashley in Gone with the Wind. What her daughter needed now was Rhett Butler. She just hoped she’d find him one day. She had a right to some happiness after all these hard, lonely years. And she had done a great job with her daughter. That job was over now too. Savannah was all grown up and running. Her life had begun.

And best of all was Savannah, glowing with all that lay ahead. Muriel thought her boyfriend in Charleston was a very nice boy. She wondered if the romance would last when Savannah went to Princeton and he went to Duke. Those things were always hard to predict. Some early romances lasted. Some didn’t. Time would tell.

Muriel looked over at her daughter as they flew toward New York, and Alexa was sound asleep. It had been an emotional weekend for them all.

Savannah still had two big events ahead in the months to come. She would be attending graduation with her class in Charleston, and would then come back for the one at her school in New York. She was going to catch up with her friends again, just in time to say goodbye. And Turner had promised to come up. That was going to be fun for Savannah too. Her father still wasn’t coming, since he would be at her Charleston graduation, and he felt New York was her mother’s turf and he didn’t want to intrude. Savannah was fine with that. But first, her mother had to get through the trial. And then Savannah could come home. She was ready. Charleston had been great. She had gotten a father, sister, two brothers, and fallen in love. But New York and her mom were still home to her.

Alexa didn’t think she would be able to go back to Charleston again until after the trial. There was too much going on now, but Savannah understood. The final crunch was on.

The morning after their Charleston weekend, Alexa was in her office at seven. She had gotten up at five to read some material she needed to prepare for the trial, and motions that the public defender had submitted to the judge.

The public defender had filed a motion to dismiss the case, which was so ridiculous it was laughable. No judge was going to grant it, but she filed it anyway, pro forma. She owed it to her client to try. And she had filed a Sandoval motion as well, to prevent Alexa from cross-examining Quentin on his prior convictions. She had a shot at winning that, but Alexa didn’t really care. The evidence against him in this case was so damning, and the crimes so heinous, that the earlier fraud and robbery charges he’d been convicted for were almost irrelevant, and certainly not pertinent to this case, although the fact that he had prior convictions would certainly tell a jury what kind of man he was.

Both motions were being decided on that morning in chambers. Alexa objected to them, and the judge dismissed them both. The public defender walked back into court looking glum.

“So much for that,” Jack muttered under his breath as he and Sam followed Alexa out of court with a member of the FBI elite Serial Crime Unit, which had helped them investigate and prepare the case. The motions had been routine, and the judge looked impatient that the public defender had filed them. There was no sympathy for Luke Quentin in court, and there would be even less from a jury. Alexa had all their evidence and expert witnesses lined up. The prosecution was airtight.

Alexa went to see Judy Dunning that afternoon.

“Sorry about the motions,” Alexa said pleasantly, trying to sound sympathetic, although she wasn’t.

“I think the judge was being unreasonable about the Sandoval,” Judy complained. “The jury doesn’t need to know he was convicted of fraud and robbery to try this case.” Alexa didn’t comment but just nodded. She had come to see her to try to convince her again to get her client to plead guilty and avoid a trial.

“I can’t offer him a deal in a case like this,” Alexa said honestly, “but he may get better treatment in prison if he’s reasonable now. A trial is just going to be a circus, and a jury will convict. You have to know that. There’s so much evidence against him, I must have twenty boxes of it in my office. Judy, talk to him. No one needs the grief.” The public defender had even tried to challenge the warrant the DA had gotten to allow Jack and Charlie to search his hotel room initially, but that had held up too, so the incriminating evidence they had gotten was admissible in court.

“He has a right to a trial,” the public defender said through pursed lips. It was like talking to a wall, and Alexa went back to her office more than anything annoyed. The trial was going to be a media circus, and he was going down for a hundred years. So be it. She had work to do. She had meetings with the FBI all week, forensic witnesses to line up from nine states, testimony to organize, her opening statement to finish. She had a thousand ducks to get in order, and only a few weeks left to do it. There were so many investigators on the case now that she didn’t know all of them by name, and the FBI was sitting in on every meeting, to make sure that all proper procedure was maintained. No one wanted a mistrial and to do it all again. A change of venue had been discussed but rejected since Quentin was known now in every state. The case had made national news. And the judge they had been given was notorious for being tough on the press, so that was good. For the next several weeks before it started, and as long as it took after, Alexa was going to be eating, sleeping, and dreaming the trial.

She called Savannah from the office every day, but never had time to talk long, and by the time she got home at night, it was too late to call her. Savannah understood and was busy with her life in Charleston, with school, friends, and her boyfriend.

It was two weeks before the trial, as Tom was watching the news in his den one night, when he saw a news conference come on and realized it was Alexa. He shouted to Savannah to come in and watch it, and Daisy came in too. They stood in front of the television and watched Alexa speak eloquently about the upcoming murder trial involving eighteen victims. There were swarms of police and FBI around her, but the microphones were all pointing to Alexa as she gave careful, coherent, intelligent answers to the questions they asked her. She looked calm, cool, and competent. Not knowing what the fuss was about, Luisa came in too, and stood there, watching her for a moment, and then walked away with pursed lips set in a hard line.

When the press conference was over, Tom looked at his oldest daughter and complimented her mother.

“She was very good. That’s going to be one mess of a trial for her to handle, and the media’s already going crazy. I thought she was very impressive, didn’t you?” Savannah agreed with him and was very proud of her, and Daisy was excited too. She’d never seen anyone she knew on TV before, and she smiled up at her sister.

“She looked like a movie star,” she said as Savannah smiled, and Luisa came back in and told them it was time to go down to dinner. She made no comment about the broadcast, and it had obviously irritated her. She seemed to be absolutely incapable of being gracious about Alexa. She didn’t want to hear about her, see anything of her, or have anything to do with her daughter, and she was constantly aware that Tom had forced her to have Savannah there. All she wanted was for her to go away.

The coup de grâce for Luisa came three days before the trial when the invitations to Travis and Scarlette’s wedding arrived in the mail and Savannah got one. She was opening it as Luisa came home from the hairdresser. She recognized it immediately and snapped at Savannah.

“Where did you get that?” She acted as though she had stolen it or was opening someone else’s mail.

“It’s mine,” Savannah said, instantly sounding defensive. “It came in the mail. It had my name on it,” she said to the evil stepmother who tried to turn every day into a living hell for her and sometimes succeeded. Without her father to defend her constantly, Savannah’s life would have been miserable. He buffered everything for her, but now and then Luisa got the best of her anyway.

“They sent you an invitation to the wedding?” She looked horrified and snatched it from Savannah’s hand. She marched into Tom’s study with it five minutes later and waved it at him in fury. “I will not have her at our son’s wedding!” she said, trembling with rage as she faced him. “She doesn’t belong there. She’s not his full sister. And I won’t be humiliated at my own son’s wedding.” He understood quickly what had happened when he saw the invitation she was holding and shook his head.

“If she’s here when they get married, you can’t not have her at the wedding. She’s not going to sit home like Cinderella while the rest of us are there.”

“And if she’s not still here at the time of the wedding?” She didn’t want her coming back for it. She wanted her gone. Forever. And surely not coming back for a family event as important as this. Everyone who was anyone in South Carolina would be there, and from neighboring states.

“Then it’s up to Scarlette and Travis if they want to invite her. May I remind you that we’re not giving the wedding? Scarlette’s parents are. It’s entirely up to them.” He tried to sidestep it, but Luisa wouldn’t let him.

“Who put her on the list?”

“I have no idea,” he answered.

Luisa called Scarlette about it five minutes later and told her daughter-in-law in no uncertain terms that she didn’t want Savannah at their wedding.

“Mother Beaumont,” Scarlette said gently, “I don’t think that’s right. She’s Travis’s sister, and I like Savannah very much. There are going to be eight hundred guests at the reception, although only three hundred at the church. I don’t think it will hurt anyone to have her at our wedding.” Scarlette persisted, making it clear that she was not going to be rude to Savannah.

“It will hurt me!” Her future mother-in-law shouted into the phone. “And you wouldn’t want that, would you?” It was a clear warning shot across her bow.

“Of course not. I’ll seat her at the opposite end of the tent from you,” Scarlette reassured her, and Luisa hung up on her brusquely and was in a rage for the next two hours.

“Maybe I’ll be gone,” Savannah said quietly to her father a little later. “The trial should be over by then.”

“It would be fun for you to come to the wedding. Half of Charleston will be there. With eight hundred guests, you won’t be able to find anyone you know, if you want to. Luisa will calm down about it.” He reassured her, and tried not to look as upset as he was himself. Luisa was like a dog with a bone and just wouldn’t let go of it. She wanted Savannah out of their lives. It was a difficult position for a seventeen-year-old girl to be in, and even harder for him, constantly torn between his wife and his daughter. It was hurtful for Savannah and exhausting for him. Daisy tried to stay under the radar as much as possible.

Savannah spoke to her mother that night and mentioned the invitation to her, and Alexa startled her daughter when she said she had gotten an invitation to the wedding too.

“Would you go, Mom?” Savannah couldn’t imagine her going, not if Luisa would be there.

“No, sweetheart, I wouldn’t. But it was nice of them to ask me. You can go if you want to. I don’t think I should. Luisa would have a coronary, or she might poison my soup.” Savannah laughed at what she said.

“There will be eight hundred guests there. Dad says she’ll never even see us if we’re there.”

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, Savannah.”

“I know, Mom. But I’d like to go, and I’d rather go with you.”

“We’ll see. Let’s talk about it after the trial. I can’t think about it right now. Weddings are the last thing on my mind.” Alexa was going in a thousand directions at once.

She’d had another press conference that day, and the public defender had given one too. The PD insisted that this was all an unfortunate misunderstanding, of an innocent man who had been framed, and it would be cleared up at the trial. She said she had every confidence that Luke Quentin would walk free, as the innocent man he was.

She looked and sounded even crazier when Savannah saw it on TV later that day. Daisy was watching with her and looked confused. Savannah had the news on in her room now constantly. Her mother was on TV every day.

“Did he do it or didn’t he?” Daisy asked her.

“That’s up to the jury to decide. But he did it. Believe me. They’re going to convict him and send him to prison.”

“Then why did the other lady say he didn’t?”

“That’s her job. She has to defend him. And it’s my mom’s job to prove he did it.” Daisy nodded. She was getting daily lessons on the criminal justice system from Savannah. The judge had banned cameras in the courtroom, but once the trial started, it would be a madhouse in the hallways and on the courthouse steps.

The day the trial started, Savannah watched the news before she went to school. She watched it again in the cafeteria during her lunch break, and knowing that Savannah’s mother was the prosecutor, a crowd of students gathered around. Alexa had been surrounded by reporters before she went into the courthouse, but she didn’t stop. They would be doing jury selection for the next several days.

Arthur Lieberman, the judge in the case, was a stern-looking man in his fifties. He had short white hair, and eyes that took in everything in his courtroom. He was an ex-Marine and tolerated no nonsense. He hated the press, and he didn’t like attorneys, neither for the prosecution nor for the defense, who wasted his time with useless motions and frivolous objections. He called Alexa and Judy Dunning into his chambers at the beginning of the case, and gave them a sobering lecture and stern warnings about what he expected of them.

“I want no nonsense in my courtroom, counselors, no funny tricks, no playing with the jury in any way, no improper procedures. I’ve never had a trial overturned, there has never been a mistrial in my courtroom, and I don’t intend this one to be the first. Is that clear?” Both women nodded and said, “Yes, Your Honor,” like dutiful children. “You have a client to defend,” he said, looking at Judy, “and you have eighteen victims to prove the defendant is responsible for killing. There is no more serious matter than this one. I don’t want any irresponsible shenanigans in my courtroom, or histrionics or unnecessary drama. And watch what you say to the press!” he admonished and dismissed them summarily.

Jury selection began half an hour later and seemed endless. Alexa sat at the prosecutor’s table flanked by Jack Jones on one side and Sam Lawrence on the other.

Alexa had come to respect Sam as they prepared the trial. He was a nitpicker, about everything. But she discovered rapidly that he was right, and he had made her even more careful than she normally was. They had shared lunch at her desk many times in the past months. He was in his fifties, she knew he had been a widower for years and had devoted his entire life to the FBI. She knew that when they won the case, it would be in part due to his help. He hated Quentin, and the case, and was as determined to put him away as Jack and Alexa and the DA. That was his only goal, she realized early on, not trying to screw her over or take the case away from her, even if the regional FBI director would have liked to. Senior Special Agent Sam Lawrence wanted the best person to do the job, and to prosecute the case, and Alexa had his full support. He smiled as she sat down next to him, and jury selection began.

It was a long, exhausting process. A hundred potential jurors had been selected, after all those were dismissed who were pregnant, sick, couldn’t get away from their jobs, spoke no English, were taking care of dying relatives, and had been able to come up with convincing reasons to be excused. And Alexa knew that there would be many more with similar excuses amid the hundred who sat crowded into the courtroom, praying they’d be sent away. The judge explained to all of them that it would be a long case, that it involved multiple homicides, and that testimony and arguments would go on for many weeks or even more than a month. Those to whom that presented an undue hardship, or had medical conditions that prevented them from serving, were to identify themselves to the clerk of the court. He pointed him out, and within minutes, there was a line of about twenty people standing in front of the clerk. The other eighty sat waiting expectantly to be questioned by both attorneys to see if they would qualify or be dismissed. Among them were people of all races, ages, both sexes, all of whom looked like ordinary people and were, everything from doctors to housewives, teachers to mailmen to students, all sat staring expectantly at Judy and Alexa.

Luke Quentin had been quietly brought in as the process began, wearing a suit, and he was neither shackled nor cuffed. Since he had shown no signs of violence during the months in jail, awaiting trial, he was allowed to appear like a civilized person, and not in handcuffs and chains, so as not to unduly influence the jury or make him look more menacing, although they knew what he was there for. Alexa noticed when she glanced cursorily at him that he was wearing a brand-new white shirt. She did not meet his eyes, but saw that Judy smiled a reassuring smile at him when he came in, and patted his arm when he sat down. He looked calm and collected and anything but scared, as his eyes roved over the jury, as though he were planning to pick them himself. Technically, he had the right to question them too, but Alexa doubted he would.

The first juror was Asian and misunderstood Alexa’s questions four times, and two of Judy’s, and was thanked and dismissed. The second was recently arrived from Puerto Rico, a young woman who looked terrified and said she had four children and two jobs and couldn’t stay, and she left too. Alexa knew the kind of juror she wanted, solid citizens, preferably of an age to be the parents of people the same age as their victims, and of course the parents of girls. The public defender was going to do everything in her power to keep them off the jury. It was a game where each attorney attempted to set the chess pieces up to her best advantage. The prosecution and defense each had twenty peremptory challenges, simply based on the fact that they didn’t like the answers to their questions. Relatives of law enforcement officers, or anyone too closely related to the legal or the criminal justice system, were rarely kept on juries. Cops themselves were dismissed, so were certain professions, notoriously lawyers, anyone who might be prejudiced, or who had a relative who had been murdered or the victim of a violent crime. They tried to weed out all forms of bias or excessive sympathy for either side. The process was laborious, and slow, and took the entire week, which Alexa had expected. She thought it might take even longer.

And during the entire process, Quentin sat quietly meeting each juror’s eyes, and either smiled at them or drove his eyes right through them. He seemed to alternate between an aura of intimidation and one of innocence and gentleness, or indifference. Most of the time, he ignored his defense counsel, although she leaned over to whisper explanations to him frequently, or ask him questions in notes. He would nod or shake his head. And at the prosecution table, Alexa consulted frequently with Sam and Jack, but most of the time she made her own decisions about the jurors she rejected or kept.

Two of the jurors were dismissed when they said they knew the judge, and he agreed, many claimed health problems, others wanted to serve but were not the jurors Alexa wanted, or Judy let them go because she felt, as Alexa did, that they would be likely to convict. It was a guessing game for both of them, and they could use only the material at hand, they couldn’t pull their ideal jurors out of a hat. They had to carefully assess how these people would react to the evidence, the crimes, and the defendant. It was an educated guessing process and at the same time a crapshoot, where you tried to divine human nature and predict how they would respond to what they heard, and if they would fully understand the rules that applied to them, which the judge would explain once the trial started. They had to convict beyond a reasonable doubt, or acquit. Their final decision had to be unanimous. All twelve had to agree, and anything less than that meant a hung jury. And the last thing both Judy and Alexa wanted was either a hung jury or a mistrial, and to have to try the case in front of a different jury all over again, although Quentin might have liked a mistrial, to stall the process of convicting him and sending him to prison forever.

The judge decided on the sentence, not the jury, and would do it a month after the verdict. The one thing they didn’t have to worry about was the death penalty. New York’s State Court of Appeals had overturned the death penalty in 2004, and had been battling motions to reinstate it in the years since. For the time being, there was no capital punishment in New York State. If convicted, Luke would serve life in prison without parole, but would not be sentenced to death. So the jury didn’t have the burden of knowing that their decision could cost his life, which made things a little easier for them. All of his other cases had been associated to the one in New York, and he was being tried for the rape and death of all eighteen women in this trial. He had been charged with eighteen counts of rape, and eighteen counts of first-degree murder, with malicious intent.

It was late Friday afternoon when twelve jurors had been selected, and four alternate jurors had been chosen, in case one of the regular jurors could not serve and had to be replaced. Of the twelve regular jurors, eight were men and four were women. Alexa didn’t mind that. She thought that men might be more protective of young women, more outraged by the crimes and more sympathetic, and angrier at Luke Quentin. She was counting on it. Four of them were old enough to have daughters that age, two were slightly younger than she wanted and would be hard to predict, but she had used up her challenges by the time they were selected. All were employed and seemed respectable and intelligent. Of the four women, all were older. Judy had objected to young women on the jury. But the four alternate jurors were mostly young women in their thirties. All races were represented, white, Hispanic, Asian, and African-American. Looking at them, Alexa was convinced they were a good jury and had worked hard to pick them, and get around some of Judy’s objections. Judy wanted men on the jury, because she thought they would be more sympathetic to Luke. Alexa didn’t agree, but in the end, they both liked the makeup of the jury. There were always loose cannons, and unpredictable surprises, but from what she could tell, with the knowledge they had of them, Alexa thought this jury was a good one. They would know after the trial.

Once the jurors were dismissed for the day, Quentin was handcuffed and then shackled, and led out of the courtroom by four deputies. He looked confident and relaxed, and stopped to glance at Alexa on the way out. Her face was expressionless, and his was slightly mocking, and then he moved on.

They had done good work that week, and Sam and Jack were pleased too. They took a minute to talk before they left the courtroom. Sam was always impressed by her precision and good judgment and had said as much to his superiors. The proof would be in the trial, of course, but he was extremely pleased by how she handled every detail. And so was Joe McCarthy, who had slipped into the courtroom several times that week to watch the jury selection process. He had added his approval to her choices, and thought she had wisely avoided some bad ones.

“Well, we’ve got our jury of twelve peers for Mr. Quentin,” Alexa said to Jack and Sam, as she put her papers and legal pads back in her briefcase. It was so heavy now that she had to pull it on wheels.

“Ready for your close-up, Ms. Hamilton?” Sam teased her as they left the courtroom. It was no surprise they were met by a wall of press who wanted to know what she thought about the jury. What felt like a million lights went off in her face.

“We’re satisfied with the jury” was all she would say as she pushed through them without further comment or expression. Jack tried to lead the way, and Sam stayed close to her with several policemen, but the heat was on her and she took it well. There was a van waiting for them outside so they could make their getaway. Alexa had a cop with her all the time now, and she had to go back to her office before wrapping up for the weekend. Jack said he’d go with her, and they dropped Sam off at the FBI office, and wished each other a good weekend. And he said he’d be available on his cell phone all weekend, they all would. Alexa had thought briefly about flying down to Charleston to see Savannah, but she knew she couldn’t. She had too much material to go over and her opening statement to polish some more.

She was just walking into her office when her cell phone rang. It was Savannah.

“I just saw you on TV,” she said proudly, “leaving the courthouse. You were great.” Alexa laughed.

“That’s rank prejudice. All I said was ‘We’re satisfied with the jury,’ and no further comment. I don’t see how you could think I was great, but thank you.” It touched her that Savannah was following it so closely.

“Daisy and Dad thought so too,” she confirmed. It had been a consensus. Luisa was out playing bridge. “You looked calm and collected, and you didn’t let them push you around. You just said what you wanted to and kept going and you didn’t let them make you nervous. At least you didn’t look it. And your hair looked good.” She had worn it in a ponytail with a satin ribbon, instead of a bun, all week. It seemed less uptight.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Well, we’ll see what happens next week. I think they’re a pretty good jury. I hope I’m right. I was thinking I might come down this weekend, but I just can’t,” she said, sounding disappointed, but Savannah wasn’t surprised.

“I didn’t expect you to, Mom. Things must be crazy for you right now.”

“Pretty much,” she admitted. “What do you have planned for the weekend?”

“I’m going to one of Turner’s games tomorrow, and he’s coming over tonight to hang out.” There was an old playroom in the basement that her brothers had used when they were young. There was a Ping Pong table and a pool table, and her father had suggested they could visit there. Luisa never went down to the basement, and it seemed more respectable than having Turner in her room.

“Say hi to him for me,” Alexa said, and then got back to work at her desk. Sam Lawrence called her a little while later.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked respectfully. It was Friday night by then.

“Not at all. I’m still at work,” she said in a pleasant tone. He was a nice man, and working with him had gone well so far. They had a great deal of mutual respect, and he and Jack had become friends in the past months.

“Sounds like we keep the same kind of hours. I’m going to move into my office pretty soon,” he laughed. But they were all going to work night and day during the trial. Judy Dunning was too, and even more so, since she had less support, and she didn’t have the FBI helping her. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m really happy with the jury, and I thought you handled the selection process very well. You’re a real pro,” he complimented her, which was high praise coming from him. FBI agents rarely approved of anyone except FBI.

“I hope so, with a case like this.” She smiled.

“Let me know if I can do anything to help over the weekend.”

“Thanks, I’ll be fine,” she assured him. And with Savannah away, she had no distractions and no obligations other than her work.

She spent the rest of the weekend working at home, going through boxes of forensic reports and evidence, working on her opening statement, and organizing the prosecution down to the last detail. By Monday morning, she felt fully prepared.

On Monday morning, they met in Sam’s office and went to the courthouse together. The press were waiting, and it was a pushing, shoving, shouting match to get through them, and Alexa made her way through the crowd, looking calm, with five cops and Jack and Sam to help. She didn’t have a hair out of place when she got into the courtroom and sat down at the prosecution table, looking unruffled. She seemed businesslike, competent, and totally in control.

Judy Dunning was already at the defense table. Luke Quentin came in with four deputies, and sat down next to her. And five minutes later the judge walked to the bench and sat down. Court was convened. Without pause, he instructed the jury as to what was expected of them. He spoke in simple, clear terms about the process, and thanked them for giving up their time to be there. He said they had a very important job, perhaps the most important job in the courtroom, more than his as judge, or the attorneys. And they nodded and looked at him seriously as they listened.

And then Alexa rose to give her opening statement. She had been preparing it for a month. She was wearing a serious black suit and heels. She introduced herself to the jury and explained what her role was, as prosecutor. She explained that the man sitting next to her at counsel’s table, Jack Jones, was the chief investigating detective on the case, and she spoke about him for a minute. She then mentioned Sam Lawrence and explained that he was the chief senior representative of the FBI on the case. That was their team.

“And why do we have the FBI here?” she asked quietly, walking in front of them, and looking each one in the eye. “Because these crimes were committed in many states. Nine states. Eighteen young women were killed in nine states.” She didn’t overemphasize it but said it perfectly, as though to engrave the numbers in their minds. “And when state lines are crossed, when a defendant goes from one state to another to commit crimes, then the FBI gets involved, to coordinate information, so there is no mistake or confusion between local law enforcement agencies. All that information is pooled so that what we submit to you, ladies and gentlemen, is correct. Having the FBI here means it’s an important case. And it is an important case. Not because the FBI is here, but because eighteen young women died. They were violently attacked and killed. Brutally raped, strangled during sex, and killed. Eighteen of them. The youngest one was eighteen, and the oldest twenty-five, a medical student. The eighteen-year-old was a theology major.” She wanted to stress their respectability to the jury and did so effectively. All eyes in the courtroom were riveted to her, as she spoke calmly and with enormous dignity and strength. She had talent at what she did, as Jack and Sam and everyone in the courtroom observed her.

“Their murderer didn’t happen on them, he didn’t just run into them and rape them and kill them by accident, which would have been terrible too. He planned it. He sought them out. We believe he looked for them and observed them, and chose them, and did exactly what he planned to do, with malicious intent. He planned to rape them and kill them, because that’s what turned him on. He killed them because that was his ultimate pleasure. The defendant in this case likes ‘snuff’ films, where women are killed during sex. He wanted to live out that fantasy and went out of his way to do it, killing eighteen young women for thrills. Murder in the first degree is when you plan to kill someone, you intend to kill them, and you do. It’s not an accident, it’s planned, ‘with malice aforethought.’ You know what that means. These young women were violently raped and murdered. It was a plan. And the plan was carried out. And now they’re dead.

“I know some of you have children. I asked you that question when we selected you as jurors. But even if you don’t have children, I know you must be shocked by these crimes. We all are.

“I have a daughter, she’s seventeen. I think she’s beautiful, and she means everything to me. Everything. She’s a senior in high school, and she’s going to college in the fall.” She didn’t say Princeton so as not to appear elitist. “She plays volleyball and is on the swim team, and I think she’s the sweetest kid in the world. I’m a single mom, and she’s an only child, so she’s all I have.” She paused, and looked at each one closely. She had just become human to them. She was a single mom with a child, and they could trust her. She wanted them to know that. Some nodded understandingly as she spoke. She had them now.

“Six of these eighteen girls were only children. Seven of them had single moms. Nine of them were students and had jobs to support their education and help their families. Two were oldest children whose moms had died, and they took care of their siblings. Four were outstanding students. Eight had scholarships or had had them. Eleven of them were religious and active in their churches. Five of them were engaged. They played sports, they had siblings and moms and dads, and dogs, and teachers who knew and loved them, and boyfriends and friends. All of them were respected and loved in their communities, and are greatly missed. And all of them were killed by the defendant sitting in front of you. All of them. Eighteen girls. We believe that’s the truth. The State believes it, eight other states believe it, the FBI believes it, and I think that when you hear the evidence in this case, you will believe it too.

“It takes a special kind of person to commit crimes like this, to be so without conscience, so unfeeling as to kill eighteen young women, while raping them, because that’s what turns you on, and you planned it. That’s a terrible way to die, and a terrible reason.

“The State believes beyond any doubt, and will prove to you, that Luke Quentin, the man at the defense table in this courtroom, raped and killed these eighteen young women, with malicious intent.

“We can’t allow people who behave this way to walk among us, to hurt our children, to kill people we love. People who commit crimes like this need to be put in prison and punished for those crimes. If not, none of our children or loved ones are safe, and we aren’t either.

“We feel sure that Luke Quentin killed these eighteen women. We can prove it, and we will prove it to you during this trial, beyond a reasonable doubt. And if you agree with the evidence, and the State, we will ask you to find him guilty of killing and raping eighteen women. It’s all we can do now for the eighteen girls who died.” She looked at them for a long moment, and then spoke softly. “Thank you.” She went back to sit at the prosecutor’s table. The jury looked shaken, and several were squirming in their seats. Sam Lawrence nodded his approval when she sat down. It had been a powerful opening statement and proved to him again she was the right person for the job.

As she sat down, Luke was whispering to his attorney, and she nodded. The defense was not obliged to make an opening statement, but Judy Dunning had decided to anyway. She knew that what Alexa would have to say would be too powerful to let it just hang in the air, without at least trying to mitigate it before the trial began. The public defender had told the judge earlier that she would be making an opening statement too.

She got up and walked to where the jury was sitting, and she looked sad, and serious as she gazed at them. She told them who she was, and that she would be defending Luke Quentin.

“I wanted you to know, ladies and gentlemen, that I’m sad about those eighteen girls too. We all are. So is Luke Quentin. Who wouldn’t be? Eighteen young lives and beautiful girls gone forever. What a terrible, terrible thing.

“And you will hear a great deal of evidence in this case, some of it very technical, of what happened, how it happened, when it happened, and who may have done it. The State believes that Luke Quentin did it. Ms. Hamilton just told you that. But we don’t believe it. Not for a minute. Luke Quentin did not kill those women, and we are going to do everything we can to prove that to you.

“Sometimes terrible circumstances come together, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, people making it look as though you did something you didn’t. It looks like you’ve done something awful, but you haven’t. All the stars and circumstances and bad luck conspire against you, and you’re blamed for something you didn’t do.”

She looked at each of them intently, from one face to another. “Luke Quentin did not commit those murders. He did not rape or kill those women. And we will prove that to you, beyond a reasonable doubt. If you believe us, or have any doubt whatsoever that Luke Quentin committed these crimes, then we are asking for an acquittal. Don’t punish an innocent man, no matter how terrible these crimes.” And with that, she went back to her seat. The judge called a twenty-minute recess immediately after.

Both Jack and Sam congratulated Alexa on her opening statement and its impact on the jury.

“Judy’s wasn’t bad either,” she said fairly. She didn’t have much to work with, and would have even less as the days wore on, but at least she had raised a question in their minds. Alexa knew it was the best she could do.

They went to get coffee out of the machine, drank it quickly, and were back at the prosecution table when Judge Lieberman rapped his gavel and brought the court to order again. He told Alexa to call her first witness.

She called Jason Yu from the forensics lab because he was personable and would make the DNA tests easier for the jury to understand. Afterward she would call experts, whose information would be harder to digest. With Alexa questioning him, he explained the DNA tests that had first linked Quentin to the bodies in New York. She had him on the stand for close to an hour, and then the judge called a recess for lunch. Jason Yu had done well, and she thanked him. Judy was going to cross-examine him after lunch.

Sam, Jack, and Alexa went out to lunch, but Alexa was too nervous to eat. She was running on adrenaline and spent most of the lunch hour making notes and jotting down additional questions. The two men chatted about sports while she worked, and then they went back to the courtroom.

The public defender’s cross-examination of Jason Yu was weak. She tried to confuse him, unsuccessfully, and make his information and tests sound unreliable and inconclusive, but each time he explained his material more precisely and more clearly. She was starting to look foolish and dismissed him, and said she had no further questions. Neither did Alexa.

Alexa called one of her expert witnesses after that, and his testimony was long, drawn out, and potentially confusing. But there was nothing she could do. The evidence he presented was important to their case. She knew there would be many witnesses like that from several states. And she was afraid it would bore the jury, but they each had something important to contribute.

On the whole, the first day went well, and so did the first week. Despite the heinousness of the crimes, there was little emotional testimony in the case. It was all very technical. There were no eyewitnesses, the parents had no testimony to give.

The most emotional factor in the courtroom was the enormous section of seats cordoned off for the relatives of the victims. There were a hundred and nine people in those seats, watching the proceedings intently and many of them crying. Instinctively, the jury knew who they were and looked at them often. Alexa had referred to them once, so they’d know, and Judy had objected. But by then the jury knew, and it was too late. Charlie sat among them with his family, who had come to see justice done.

Mostly the case involved the presentation of technical forensic data that systematically linked Luke Quentin to each victim and her death. Cross-examination involved refuting that evidence, and the public defender didn’t have the skills or evidence to do it. It was a hard case to beat. Alexa and Sam met with Judy on Friday afternoon after court was recessed for the weekend.

“I just wanted to suggest to you again,” Alexa said calmly, “that you get your client to plead. We’re all wasting our time here.”

“I don’t think we are,” Judy Dunning said stubbornly. “People make mistakes in DNA tests. Sometimes all they do is exclude one group of people without accurately pinpointing others. I think the cops in every state pinned every unsolved murder they had on Luke. If there was one mistake made, just one, if one of those cases was wrong, or poorly handled, it will raise a reasonable doubt that could overturn all the others.” It was a long shot, but the only one she had. And investigation teams in nine states and the FBI had seen to it that there were no mistakes. Alexa thought she was being foolish and committing legal suicide for her client in open court. “He has nothing to lose and he has a right to a trial,” Judy said darkly, as though she were watching an innocent man be crucified, instead of a merciless killer being brought to justice. She still believed in her client’s innocence, that much was clear. She wasn’t just doing a job, she was leading a crusade, for a lost cause. Judy seemed painfully naïve to Alexa.

“He has a lot to lose,” Alexa pointed out to her. “The judge is going to be much tougher on him if he wastes everyone’s time. No one is going to be sympathetic to him, or give him a break. He’d be a lot better off if he strikes a deal now, before we go through weeks of trial. The judge is going to get pissed,” Alexa warned her, and Jack agreed with her completely, and felt that a good attorney would have forced Luke to plead. Judy was too weak to do it, and too enthralled by Luke. “If I were his attorney,” Alexa said quietly, “I would make him plead.” The judge might give him concurrent sentences instead of consecutive, which could extend far beyond Luke’s lifetime. Concurrent sentencing was the best he could hope for.

“Then he’s lucky you aren’t his attorney,” Judy said firmly and stood up, looking huffy. “I’m his lawyer, counselor, and he’s not pleading.” Alexa nodded, thanked her, and she and Jack left the room without comment.

“See you Monday,” she said as she left him in the hall.

Four policemen helped her down the courthouse steps into a waiting police car, and two stood outside her apartment all weekend. They were back in court on Monday.

The technical testimony went on for three weeks, and was impressively conclusive, beyond a reasonable doubt, Alexa thought. Again it was less emotional than she would have liked. And the photographs of the victims were absolutely awful, because most of them had been found later and the bodies had been badly decomposed. The jury had been warned that they would have to view them. They looked sick when they did, but the photographs were evidence in the trial, and part of the State’s case.

After three weeks of testimony, the prosecution rested and turned the case over to the defense. Alexa had produced volumes of expert testimony and DNA testing that couldn’t be refuted. All Judy could do was try to confuse it, which she attempted, without much success. And the most damning element in her case was that Luke wasn’t going to take the stand in his own defense, because of his previous convictions and criminal record. He could have, but it would have been foolish in the extreme. Even Judy wouldn’t risk it, so he said nothing in his own defense, which spoke volumes. Instead he sat in the courtroom for three weeks looking arrogant and without remorse, as the victims’ families cried.

The case for the defense took less than a week, and then the public defender rested her case. Alexa called only two defense witnesses for rebuttal and made hash of them. They were incompetent, and it showed. And then Judy made an emotional closing statement, begging the jury not to convict an innocent man, and hoping that she had convinced them he was. The jury looked stone-faced as they watched her.

Alexa’s closing argument summed up the evidence for them, reminded them of each case and instance when Luke Quentin had been linked conclusively to one of the women, as their murderer. She went down the list of proofs, both simple and complicated, that should convince them that the defendant was guilty of all of these crimes. She then made a brief emotional speech reminding them of their responsibility as jurors to bring criminals like Luke Quentin to justice and convict, not an innocent man, but a man who had been proven to have raped and killed eighteen women. She thanked them for their attention during the long trial.

The judge then instructed the jury for their deliberations. The foreman had already requested charts and evidence that had been presented during the trial. Throughout the trial the judge had warned the jury that they were not to read anything in the press about the proceedings, but he had not sequestered them.

They would be taken to a hotel that night, however, if they had not reached a verdict, and for as many nights as it took. The jury left the courtroom, and Alexa let out a long sigh. Her job was done. Sam and Jack looked at her with admiration.

“You did a hell of a job,” Sam said, somewhat in awe of her strength and precision. Watching Alexa in court was like watching ballet. She had an amazing way of making complicated information sound simple and reasonable to the jury, as she questioned witnesses and asked them to explain in simple terms what they’d said before. It was a very clever way of not confusing a jury with overly technical details.

As she stood up, Luke Quentin was led away in handcuffs by the four deputies who had been with him throughout the trial. He looked at her in open hatred this time. He knew too that it hadn’t gone well. He said nothing to Alexa and moved on, but if he could have murdered her with a look, she would have been dead on the spot. She was more than ever grateful that she had sent Savannah away. Until he was behind bars in a maximum security prison for life, she didn’t feel safe.

Sam, Jack, and Alexa had to stay near the courtroom but not in it while they waited for the jury to deliberate. They were all available on their cell phones, and decided to go back to Alexa’s office. It was hard to believe it was almost over. Alexa hoped they’d convict, and it was difficult to imagine they wouldn’t. But juries were unpredictable and quixotic. If they had a “reasonable doubt,” even if they had been too confused to assimilate the information, he’d go free. They had all seen it happen.

Sam sprawled out on the couch in Alexa’s office, while Jack relaxed in a chair, and Alexa sat down with her feet on the desk. She was excited, but exhausted, and had been running on adrenaline and fumes for almost five weeks, since jury selection. It was the first of June. Savannah was graduating in Charleston in ten days. Life would be normal again by then. The DA had promised her a week’s vacation as soon as the verdict came in. He stuck his head into her office as she sat there and said he had seen her closing argument and it had been excellent. He had been in the courtroom frequently during the trial, as had several senior members of the FBI.

There was no call from the court that afternoon, and little conversation in her office. They were too tired and anxious to speak.

Finally, the judge’s clerk called, and told them to go home. The jury was going to a hotel for the night, and would reconvene to deliberate in the morning. Alexa reported it to Jack and Sam, and they both groaned. They were hoping the verdict had come in, although it was early for that. They invited her to dinner, but she said she was too tired. She went home and sat on the couch and stared at the TV mindlessly. It had been an incredibly grueling five weeks. Alexa fell asleep on the couch, in her clothes, without dinner and with the TV on, and didn’t wake up until seven a.m. the next day. She looked at her watch as she woke with a start. She had to shower and dress. The jury was reconvening in two hours.