Alexandra Weston
August 12, 1984
10:15 a.m.
Alexandra Weston sat on a stiff, wooden bench on the fourth row of a Louisiana courthouse, listening to the grand jury indict twenty-two-year-old Elias Pratt on several charges of first-degree murder, followed by a swift, unemotional recommendation for the death penalty.
While the verdict was read, the majority of men and women lining the seats inside the packed courtroom smiled and nodded in agreement. A woman sitting in the next row fist-pumped the air. A man in the same row clasped his hands together and looked at the ceiling, like the gateway of heaven had been opened and his prayers had been answered. In another row, an elderly couple clutched each other, both gushing exuberant tears of joy.
Justice had been served for all.
Elias wouldn’t receive a multiple life sentence; he’d be sent to Gruesome Gertie, the state’s unforgiving electric chair.
Alexandra shifted her attention from the weeping elderly couple to Elias Pratt. He’d remained stiff and still while the verdict was read, like a pole rooted in cement. His hands were in his lap, fingers interlocked, his dull, blank eyes staring at the judge, as if she were nothing more than an extra in a lackluster movie.
He didn’t seem to care whether he lived or died.
He didn’t seem to care about anything.
It didn’t surprise Alexandra.
Killers rarely did.
Dubbed the “Devil in Disguise” due to his boyish charm, middle-class upbringing, and devilishly handsome looks, most people speculated Elias was nothing more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a sweet-faced rich kid disguised as Lucifer himself. Devoid of emotion. A psychopath. A serial killer.
Given his crimes, Alexandra could see why the public felt this way. As to her own feelings, the jury was out. She wasn’t sure how she felt yet. Elias didn’t exhibit the traits she’d come to expect in the David Berkowitzes and the John Wayne Gacys of the world. He was different. Not innocent, but different, with a quiet reverence that shocked her. Staring at him now, she realized in some ways she almost felt sorry for him. How crazy was that?
Court was adjourned, and Alexandra stood, watching the sea of onlookers who’d come to gawk one last time, to support each other with hugs, high-fives, and smiles of satisfaction. The judge called for order. No one seemed to mind him.
To most in attendance, they’d just witnessed what would eventually lead to Elias’s end.
For Alexandra Weston, however, his end was just the beginning.