The courtroom of Judge Knox was filling up rapidly with the still shaky members of the media. I slowed a little, to make sure David and Holly were right behind me. I’d already decided not to tell David about the warning; he was only just holding it together. I laid out my papers on the defense table and took the seat on the right, David to my left. When he arrived, Gerry would have to take the corner seat.
The rear doors of the court opened, a hundred feet behind us. The prosecution was arriving. Zader hovered at the rear of the pack of assistant district attorneys who hauled evidence boxes and folders into court. District Attorney Zader typed on his iPhone with his thumb.
As he passed me, he leaned down and said, “I just posted this on Reeler.”
The official Reel of the New York District Attorney’s Office held a new message:
THE EVIDENCE WE ARE ABOUT TO PRESENT IN THE PRELIMINARY HEARING IN THE CASE OF DAVID CHILD WILL SHOCK THE NATION. FOLLOW US AS WE LOAD REELS LIVE FROM THE HEARING. #JUSTICEFORCLARA #PUBLIC&MESSY
“Like it says, public and messy,” said Zader, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.
I saw a box with an “R” below the DA’s Reeler post with a number below it. The number was rolling up every half a second—257, 583, 1,009. This was the number of times the message had been relayed through Reeler, Facebook, and Twitter.
“Public and messy,” he said again slowly.
He strode back to his ADAs and waved to a few of the more influential TV anchors who’d taken their prime seats in the front row of the gallery.
“Can he do that?” asked David.
“Pretty much. He’s not giving away any details about the case. He’s just raising his profile. You’re a pretty big fish—he wants to gut you in public. If he wants to be mayor, or governor, he needs the face time on TV. I think he’s enjoying the fact that he’s using Reeler to destroy you. I guess he finds some irony in that. You’re his meal ticket. This isn’t about Clara. This is about him, and that sickens me.”
Gerry Sinton took his seat at the end of the defense table without a word. I hadn’t heard his approach; for a big man, he walked softly. Sending a warning with a vial of acid wasn’t beyond Gerry. He’d worked his way up the chain from the back alleys to the boardroom. Dell had told me as much. I thought about reaching across, gripping Gerry’s silk tie, and ringing his head off the mahogany a couple of times. I thought better of it when Judge Knox came into the room, took his seat at the bench, and called the case.
No backing out now. This was it. What happened here would save or condemn David. It would save or condemn Christine. It would shape the course of my life. The prosecution had half a dozen witnesses—all of them ready to give evidence that put David Child up for a slam-dunk conviction. It’s much easier to tear a witness apart when they’re lying. Far as I could tell, with the possible exception of two witnesses, each of the remaining prosecution witnesses was telling the truth—and that truth added up to David’s guilt. I had to swing the truth away from each of them so I could create my own truth and let Knox see the bigger picture.
Trouble was, I didn’t know the bigger picture. I couldn’t yet see the truth of this whole thing.
I told myself that it would come. Give it time.
Dr. Henry Porter was the first big job. The GSR expert. I saw him sitting four rows behind Zader. A man in his fifties, smartly turned out in gray dress pants, white shirt, and blue blazer. All set off with a pale yellow tie. For some reason, like most of his fellow contemporary firearms experts, he sported a graying mustache. I wondered if they handed out the mustache with their forensic expert certification.
He saw me staring and, with forefinger and thumb, adjusted his glasses, then turned his attention to Zader.
The DA stood, ready to give his opening to Judge Knox, who was arranging his own case file in readiness for the evidence.
I wondered then if Zader or Porter had any inclination of what I had in store for them. I hoped not. The DA checked the gallery, making sure his first witness was ready. They exchanged a thumbs-up. I gave myself even odds that in an hour Zader would be sitting with his thumb up his ass, wondering where it all went wrong. There was an equal chance that I might be sitting wondering how I’d messed up so bad. It was too close to call.
Judge Knox signaled to Zader that he was ready. The DA took his time. Sipped from a glass of water. A quick scan of the gallery to make sure all was silent, all eyes were on him—that his audience was ready.
The TV cameras started rolling. This case would be on a live feed on damn near every news channel in the country. Zader’s last words echoed in my mind.
Public and messy.
Damn, I wished I’d shaved.