At five the next morning, William Tucker's court-appointed public defender woke to her cell phone ringing. She slapped her hand around in the dark until she found her purse. She dug inside and grasped the phone. She answered.
"Hello."
"Billie Jean?"
"William?"
Frank switched the lamp on and rolled over to her. She put a finger to her lips.
"William, why aren't you sleeping?"
"I never sleep."
"What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? I'm gonna die on death row, that's what's wrong."
"No, you're not. Your dad's going to save you, William. He'll find a way."
"Tell him I'm sorry."
She motioned Frank closer; he put his head against hers and listened to his son.
"For what?"
"For kicking him out of my life. For abandoning him. For forgetting what a good father he is. For not understanding what he went through with Bradley Todd. For not sticking with him like he always stuck with me. For being a piece-of-shit son. For calling him a loser."
She heard him sobbing.
"For taking the plea deal."
Frank grabbed the phone and yelled, "William—no!"
But his son was already gone.