“RICKY WAS the quiet type, shy. She wanted to make everybody happy, so she’d always go along with whatever we wanted to do. Whenever I wanted to join a new club, she was always the person willing to sign up with me, even if it was something she wasn’t interested in. She was just that good a friend.”
Haywood bobbed his head, nodding as he walked confidently across the courtroom. “Would she ever hurt someone? Pick fights, get in trouble?”
“Never,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “She wanted to study nursing so she could work in a retirement home helping the elderly. You couldn’t convince her to say a bad word about anyone, even if they really deserved it. She always saw the best in people. It made her a little naive, maybe, but we loved her for it.”
“And what about Jessa Fuentes?”
“She would never hurt anybody either.” I tried not to sound defensive. Haywood was establishing their character for the jury, not making them out to be the bad guys. We had trained for this. “She was so good at being good.”
“Tell me about her,” Haywood pressed, scratching at his chin.
“She went to church every Sunday. She had this—little pink Bible.” I made a gesture with my hands to indicate the smallness of this artifact, currently being held in evidence by the police. “She put it in her purse and whenever anyone needed guidance, she would whip it out and have the perfect passage ready to comfort you, or inspire you. She always had whatever you needed at a moment’s notice. Especially if that thing was a hug.”
I closed my eyes and pictured her, in her white prom dress, her black hair falling over her shoulders in soft waves, her smile leaving a dimple in her left cheek. “She wasn’t perfect, but she was as close as any of us. She volunteered for the homeless and the hungry, organized food drives and bake sales. I had a set number of volunteer hours to do because I was a prefect at school, but she did way more than I ever did, and she never recorded any of it. She did it because it made her feel good. Because she was charitable and righteous and good.”
When I opened my eyes, the courtroom was covered in a thin film of tears. I blinked them away and ran my fingers under my eyes to brush away the wetness. The stoic faces of the audience made me swallow past the lump in my throat and sit a bit straighter. I was not here to cry. I was here to tell them what happened so that the man who killed my friends would be punished, as I knew he should.
“Katherine Barrett,” Haywood continued, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and walking up to the stand. I took it gratefully and dabbed at my eyes. He stepped back before I could hand it back to him, so I held it in my lap. “The defendant’s half sister.”
I couldn’t help it. I looked over at Dustin. He was sitting so straight and proper, his face set like stone. He wasn’t looking at me, but straight ahead of him, vacantly gazing into space. I could see a little of Kate in his features—the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. I could see a little of Kate in their mother too, seated just behind her son, looking mildly disgruntled but otherwise composed. She looked worse now than she had at the funeral of her only daughter.
Haywood said, “Tell me about her,” and I hesitated. I always did at this part during our practice runs. How do you say “I was in love with her, flaws and all” to a group of people who hadn’t known her, hadn’t seen her smile light up a room? How do you express the minutia of a person who went to great lengths to be indescribable, unpredictable in any given moment?
“Kate was…,” I started, then stopped again, trying to remember the notes I’d taken trying to do just that. “Kate was different, from the rest of us. She broke the mold. She was a thrill seeker, always moving on to bigger and better things. She had this… easy confidence that we all tried to replicate but couldn’t. She loved music and danced all the time, sometimes when there was no music. She didn’t need it.” I smiled wistfully, remembering the skip in her step down the hallway at school, even in heels that would have made me teeter. “She danced because she loved life.”
“Do you recognize the defendant?” Haywood asked, and I nodded. “Out loud, please.” There were tape recorders listening to every word. A nod was not sufficient for the recording.
“Yes, I recognize the defendant.”
“Who is he?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “He’s Kate’s brother, Dustin. Her half brother, I mean. But they never made the distinction.” He looked at me then, meeting my gaze and holding it. He had blue eyes, Kate’s blue eyes, and I felt sick to my stomach just looking at him.
“How well do you know him? Did you see him often?” Haywood pressed, stepping into my line of sight so that Dustin was blocked from my view. I felt a wave of relief at not having to look into his eyes anymore, Kate’s eyes.
“I don’t know him well. He was around when we were younger, but he left for college when we were in the sixth grade. He came home for holidays, but I never really saw him much.” I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. “Until prom night.” A murmur rolled through the crowed. I needed to say it now, with confidence and conviction. “When he killed my friends at Sparky’s Diner.”