Eight In The Box Part 16

Nick shook his head. "What are you, a n.a.z.i?"

"Here we go. Calling me a n.a.z.i to attack my credibility is an argument ad hominem, ad hominem," Brendan said.

"I don't know anything about hominem hominems, but I don't think that the Germans have historically been fair in the way they hand out justice," Nick said.

"I'm with Brendan on this one," Connie said.

"Me too," Mitch chimed in.

"Ditto." Alves hadn't said much. He seemed ready to leave at any moment but looked to be enjoying himself. "If you had panels of judges, you'd be less likely to end up with bag jobs like the one Connie and I just got hit with on the Wilc.o.x case."

Connie turned to Monica. "You're still new, so you should learn this now, before you're led astray by defense-attorneys-in-training like Nick. The first day I walked into this courthouse Liz told me that none of this was on the level. I didn't know what she meant at the time, but I figured it out soon enough. If you follow my lead, you're definitely going to win some trials, unlike Nick, who's lost all ten of his trials."

"Low blow." Brendan laughed.

Monica turned toward Nick in disbelief. "You've lost ten trials in a row."

Nick looked down at the table.

"I don't mean that as an insult to you," Connie said. "You're the one who thinks this isn't about winning and losing. It's about justice being served, right? Maybe justice prevailed at each of your trials. Maybe those defendants were innocent. All we can do is take the facts we're given, then paint them in the light most favorable to our cause. If that's not a game, I don't know what is."

"It's not a game," Nick said. "I don't prosecute someone unless I truly believe they committed the crime. I need to believe it beyond a reasonable doubt before I try to convince a jury beyond a reasonable doubt."

"You can believe it beyond all doubt, but you still don't know what happened. Everything really starts with jury selection. You need to figure out which jurors are going to connect with you and trust you. Otherwise you'll never win."

"It always comes back to winning and losing with you," Nick said. Monica was still glaring at Nick, but he wasn't looking back. "Maybe it does bother me that all of my trials have been not guilties. But maybe those defendants were were all innocent and justice did prevail." all innocent and justice did prevail."

"Let me tell you something about justice," Connie said. "Everyone we prosecute is judged to be guilty or not guilty. n.o.body is found innocent, because n.o.body is innocent. Today's victim is tomorrow's defendant. Justice does come down to winning and losing. If I think a defendant is guilty, the only justice I'm looking for is a win and a guilty verdict."

"You need to change the way you look at things. I don't expect you to be totally idealistic, but it would help if you had some faith in the system you've chosen to work in."

"You misunderstand me." Connie stood up from the table. "I have absolute faith in the system. I have faith that jurors are stupid and gullible. I have faith that I know how to manipulate them. And I know I am going to launch Jesse Wilc.o.x, even without the evidence Judge Ring stole from us."

"That's what I like to hear," Alves said.

CHAPTER 56.

"I think that went well, don't you?" Mooney said. think that went well, don't you?" Mooney said.

Alves couldn't even look at Mooney as they closed the door to the commissioner's office behind them. "My career is over," Alves said. "I just made Homicide. Everything was going so well. Now it's over."

"I'm not going to let you get hurt," Mooney said. "I took the hit. He knows I'm the one who s.h.i.t-canned our friends from Quantico. I'll be sure to tell the mayor too."

"You saw him, Sarge. He blames us both. He thinks I should have stopped you."

"Don't worry, Angel. I'm the one that's going to get screwed when this investigation ends. At least we've still got the case. That was the plan all along."

"Sarge, he said he's going to ship you to Evidence Management in Hyde Park." Alves pictured the aluminum building that resembled a cavernous storage shed stuck on a tired street at the edge of Boston's city limits.

"Yeah, but he won't do it until we close the case. By then, all will be forgiven. He'll a.s.sign me out there for six months just to send a message, then he'll put me somewhere else."

"Back on Homicide?"

"I don't think so. He's pretty p.i.s.sed. I made him look bad with the feds and he's one of the biggest FBI suck-ups around. He's a member of the National Academy a.s.sociates."

"I thought that pin on his lapel said NRA."

"I wish. He took the NA course with the FBI back when he first made sergeant twenty years ago. He wears that pin every day. Civilians don't realize what it is. I mean, what high standards! They even make you get a high school diploma, or its equivalent, or its equivalent, before they let you in!" before they let you in!"

"All that matters is that the guy wearing that pin is going to ruin our careers."

"My career," Mooney corrected him. "Stop crying about it and tell me what you've come up with on that funeral home angle." career," Mooney corrected him. "Stop crying about it and tell me what you've come up with on that funeral home angle."

Maybe Mooney was right. No one was going to get in their way while they were working the case; and once it was solved they would be heroes. They just needed to focus on their work and they would be fine. "Nothing yet. But I'm looking into every one of them. If there's anything there, I'll find it."

CHAPTER 57.

The mayor, flanked by the DA, and the Boston Police Commissioner, was having his usual difficulties saying exactly what he meant. Speaking without notes as he did, the man had a tendency to ramble and say too much. Halfway through a press conference updating the media on the progress of the investigation, the mayor announced that "The FBI profilers called in to a.s.sist on this case believe the killer has committed similar crimes, maybe in another city." was having his usual difficulties saying exactly what he meant. Speaking without notes as he did, the man had a tendency to ramble and say too much. Halfway through a press conference updating the media on the progress of the investigation, the mayor announced that "The FBI profilers called in to a.s.sist on this case believe the killer has committed similar crimes, maybe in another city."

"Good luck with that lead," Richter said to the images on the television screen. The Tucson police had had no reason to focus their investigation on him. How would the police in Boston ever link him to what had happened so many years ago?

Sunday night, the end of spring break, but Richter hadn't gone away because he needed to study for midterms. Richter's eyes were sore and his brain was pudding from reading all day. A trip to the men's room, a splash of water on his face and neck, a quick lap around the University of Arizona's main library and he'd be ready to focus again. Richter's eyes were sore and his brain was pudding from reading all day. A trip to the men's room, a splash of water on his face and neck, a quick lap around the University of Arizona's main library and he'd be ready to focus again. The floor seemed deserted. Then he spotted a young woman sitting at one of the long tables. She looked up and gave him a nod as he walked past. Maybe she needed a break too. A good discussion to get the blood flowing. Richter twisted his head awkwardly to see the t.i.tle of the small book she was holding. A treatise on anarchy. The floor seemed deserted. Then he spotted a young woman sitting at one of the long tables. She looked up and gave him a nod as he walked past. Maybe she needed a break too. A good discussion to get the blood flowing. Richter twisted his head awkwardly to see the t.i.tle of the small book she was holding. A treatise on anarchy. "I am the chairwoman of the Anarchists Club." She smiled at him. "I am the chairwoman of the Anarchists Club." She smiled at him. "The Anarchists Club?" he asked. "An organization for people who don't believe in organizations and their rules-isn't that an oxymoron?" "The Anarchists Club?" he asked. "An organization for people who don't believe in organizations and their rules-isn't that an oxymoron?" "Up to the Os in your vocabulary builder?" she sniped. Richter couldn't tell how tall she was because of the way she was sitting. She had dark hair and brown eyes. If she lost the gla.s.ses she would have been pretty. She half smiled at him, as if to say she was tolerating his comment, certainly not closing the door to the conversation. "It's not that we don't believe in organizations, per se. It's all forms of government that we oppose, because governments, by their very nature, are oppressive. We examine the androcentric derivation of the rules and strictures that shape our lives in traditional forms of government." "Up to the Os in your vocabulary builder?" she sniped. Richter couldn't tell how tall she was because of the way she was sitting. She had dark hair and brown eyes. If she lost the gla.s.ses she would have been pretty. She half smiled at him, as if to say she was tolerating his comment, certainly not closing the door to the conversation. "It's not that we don't believe in organizations, per se. It's all forms of government that we oppose, because governments, by their very nature, are oppressive. We examine the androcentric derivation of the rules and strictures that shape our lives in traditional forms of government." "Androcentric? Up to the As in your vocabulary builder?" he asked. "Androcentric? Up to the As in your vocabulary builder?" he asked. She smiled. She smiled. "Look," he said, pulling a chair from another table and sitting with his chest against the chair back, "men may have formed the governments and laws, but those laws are there to protect women as well." "Look," he said, pulling a chair from another table and sitting with his chest against the chair back, "men may have formed the governments and laws, but those laws are there to protect women as well." "We women have to stop thinking of ourselves as victims who need to be given structure in our lives by those who oppress us." "We women have to stop thinking of ourselves as victims who need to be given structure in our lives by those who oppress us." She took off her reading gla.s.ses and looked at him more closely. She really was pretty. As she used her gla.s.ses to punctuate her points, Richter saw that her nails were bitten to the quick. She took off her reading gla.s.ses and looked at him more closely. She really was pretty. As she used her gla.s.ses to punctuate her points, Richter saw that her nails were bitten to the quick. "So you're not so much against rules as you are against government forced on you by men. You're more feminist than anarchist." "So you're not so much against rules as you are against government forced on you by men. You're more feminist than anarchist." "The whole concept of government is a male idea, so feminism and anarchism go hand in hand," she said. "I don't believe we need laws, because people in their natural state are good." "The whole concept of government is a male idea, so feminism and anarchism go hand in hand," she said. "I don't believe we need laws, because people in their natural state are good." "John Locke, right? I'm more of a Thomas Hobbes fan, myself. Life in a society without laws would be 'solitary, nasty, brutish and short.'" Richter smiled. "All you need is one person like Hitler and that throws off your whole system." "John Locke, right? I'm more of a Thomas Hobbes fan, myself. Life in a society without laws would be 'solitary, nasty, brutish and short.'" Richter smiled. "All you need is one person like Hitler and that throws off your whole system." "Hitler was able to do what he did because of androcentric concepts like nation, race and superiority. Without those prevailing ideas, he never could've thrived." "Hitler was able to do what he did because of androcentric concepts like nation, race and superiority. Without those prevailing ideas, he never could've thrived." Richter was pleased to see that she wasn't a pushover. She liked to argue and didn't let her emotions get in the way of reason. A young philosopher in training. "What about Nietzsche and his notion of superiority, that a superman could make the decision as to whether another should live or die? Without our laws, what would prevent an intelligent, logical, rational person from coming to the conclusion that less valuable members of society are dispensable?" Richter was pleased to see that she wasn't a pushover. She liked to argue and didn't let her emotions get in the way of reason. A young philosopher in training. "What about Nietzsche and his notion of superiority, that a superman could make the decision as to whether another should live or die? Without our laws, what would prevent an intelligent, logical, rational person from coming to the conclusion that less valuable members of society are dispensable?" "Again, you're falling back on your male paradigms." "Again, you're falling back on your male paradigms." "Unless you're going to have an all-female society," he said, "you're going to have male influences. And if you've got males, you need laws to control their violent impulses. Let me ask you a question: Do you think it's wrong to kill another human being?" "Unless you're going to have an all-female society," he said, "you're going to have male influences. And if you've got males, you need laws to control their violent impulses. Let me ask you a question: Do you think it's wrong to kill another human being?" "Excellent question," she said. "This is one of my basic problems with government. Sometimes killing is sanctioned-executions, times of war. Other times it's punishable by death or imprisonment. There's no consistency in the application of your laws." "Excellent question," she said. "This is one of my basic problems with government. Sometimes killing is sanctioned-executions, times of war. Other times it's punishable by death or imprisonment. There's no consistency in the application of your laws." "If you want consistency, then you should be able to answer my question. Should we never be able to kill or always be able to kill?" "If you want consistency, then you should be able to answer my question. Should we never be able to kill or always be able to kill?" Her dark eyes and long brown hair, which fell down past her shoulders, were a nice change from the countless blondes on campus. "For starters," she said, "if we had no television, no violent movies, no p.o.r.nography, no men brought up with football mentalities, we might have a shot at living our lives in peace without the restrictions placed on our civil liberties by a government." Her dark eyes and long brown hair, which fell down past her shoulders, were a nice change from the countless blondes on campus. "For starters," she said, "if we had no television, no violent movies, no p.o.r.nography, no men brought up with football mentalities, we might have a shot at living our lives in peace without the restrictions placed on our civil liberties by a government." "Plato never watched television and never played football. He wrote in "Plato never watched television and never played football. He wrote in The Republic, The Republic, 'Mankind censures injustice fearing that they may be the victims of it, and not because they shrink from committing it.' You still haven't answered my question," he said. 'Mankind censures injustice fearing that they may be the victims of it, and not because they shrink from committing it.' You still haven't answered my question," he said. "Of course it's wrong to kill." "Of course it's wrong to kill." "Is it inherently wrong, or have our laws just made it illegal?" "Is it inherently wrong, or have our laws just made it illegal?" "Inherently wrong." "Inherently wrong." "Perfect. You believe it's inherently wrong, but what if I don't? Without laws, government, police, prosecutors, what would stop me from killing?" He suddenly realized how loud his voice had gotten. They both stopped to see if they were disturbing anyone, but their section of the library was deserted. "I'm with Plato. The only reason it's wrong to kill is because we don't want others killing us." "Perfect. You believe it's inherently wrong, but what if I don't? Without laws, government, police, prosecutors, what would stop me from killing?" He suddenly realized how loud his voice had gotten. They both stopped to see if they were disturbing anyone, but their section of the library was deserted. "I'm with Plato. The only reason it's wrong to kill is because we don't want others killing us." "So you really don't think it's wrong to kill?" she leaned toward him intently and asked in a voice just above a whisper. "So you really don't think it's wrong to kill?" she leaned toward him intently and asked in a voice just above a whisper. "I'm not saying it shouldn't be illegal to kill. I'm trying to make a distinction between something being morally wrong and its being illegal. Our society is becoming devoid of any sense of morality, so why hold on to this hollow belief that there is something morally wrong with killing another person? You said it yourself, sometimes we sanction killing of humans and sometimes we condemn it. I think we should be consistent." "I'm not saying it shouldn't be illegal to kill. I'm trying to make a distinction between something being morally wrong and its being illegal. Our society is becoming devoid of any sense of morality, so why hold on to this hollow belief that there is something morally wrong with killing another person? You said it yourself, sometimes we sanction killing of humans and sometimes we condemn it. I think we should be consistent." "We couldn't exist as a society if we said it was okay to go around killing one another." "We couldn't exist as a society if we said it was okay to go around killing one another." "Of course it has to be illegal to kill people, but it's no more wrong than killing any other living creature. I eat meat every day. We as a society have ma.s.sive factories where we kill animals on an a.s.sembly line and package the meat neatly so we can eat it at our convenience." Richter had made these same arguments in his philosophy cla.s.s and easily converted half the cla.s.s to his view. "Of course it has to be illegal to kill people, but it's no more wrong than killing any other living creature. I eat meat every day. We as a society have ma.s.sive factories where we kill animals on an a.s.sembly line and package the meat neatly so we can eat it at our convenience." Richter had made these same arguments in his philosophy cla.s.s and easily converted half the cla.s.s to his view. "But those are just animals. It's different with human beings. Human life is more valuable than farm animals or even pets." "But those are just animals. It's different with human beings. Human life is more valuable than farm animals or even pets." "Life is life. Let's say I have a loyal dog that loves me so much he runs to me and jumps on me, licking my face every time he sees me. He brings so much joy into my life. Is my life any more valuable than his? Should someone be able to arbitrarily take that dog's life?" Richter kept his voice low, but he could feel the anger building. He couldn't allow that. He needed to control himself, not let emotion influence his argument. "Life is life. Let's say I have a loyal dog that loves me so much he runs to me and jumps on me, licking my face every time he sees me. He brings so much joy into my life. Is my life any more valuable than his? Should someone be able to arbitrarily take that dog's life?" Richter kept his voice low, but he could feel the anger building. He couldn't allow that. He needed to control himself, not let emotion influence his argument. "I see your point with pets, but as much as I love animals, we have to place a greater value on human life. How can any society, male or female, exist if people don't have the basic right to live? Look at early human civilizations," she said, frustration shading her voice. "These would be situations where killing for territory, family or self-preservation would be accepted. Such societies were based on aggressive male tendencies. The androcentric creations of nationalism and race are just extensions of those ideals." "I see your point with pets, but as much as I love animals, we have to place a greater value on human life. How can any society, male or female, exist if people don't have the basic right to live? Look at early human civilizations," she said, frustration shading her voice. "These would be situations where killing for territory, family or self-preservation would be accepted. Such societies were based on aggressive male tendencies. The androcentric creations of nationalism and race are just extensions of those ideals." "So you think that if we had a society run by women we wouldn't need laws to govern us?" he asked. "Let's a.s.sume for a second that I'm living in that society. Without laws and the fear of being punished, what would stop me from getting up out of this chair"-he stood up-"walking over to you, and putting my hands around your neck?" "So you think that if we had a society run by women we wouldn't need laws to govern us?" he asked. "Let's a.s.sume for a second that I'm living in that society. Without laws and the fear of being punished, what would stop me from getting up out of this chair"-he stood up-"walking over to you, and putting my hands around your neck?" When Richter's hands first touched her cool skin he meant only to demonstrate how easy it would be to kill someone, shattering the naive fiction that people are good and don't need laws to control them. But it felt so good, better than he had imagined. He was pleased at how thin and supple her neck was, his hands wrapping around it neatly, tightening his grip around her throat almost instinctively. She looked shocked at first, then hopeful he was just trying to make a point and not really hurt her. When Richter's hands first touched her cool skin he meant only to demonstrate how easy it would be to kill someone, shattering the naive fiction that people are good and don't need laws to control them. But it felt so good, better than he had imagined. He was pleased at how thin and supple her neck was, his hands wrapping around it neatly, tightening his grip around her throat almost instinctively. She looked shocked at first, then hopeful he was just trying to make a point and not really hurt her. He could feel her vulnerability as she strained to talk, to scream, to breathe. Her legs b.u.mped under the table and she went after his fingers, trying to bend them back, but he was too strong. He felt her neck swelling, the blood backing into her chest and heart, trying to force its way to her brain. He could feel her vulnerability as she strained to talk, to scream, to breathe. Her legs b.u.mped under the table and she went after his fingers, trying to bend them back, but he was too strong. He felt her neck swelling, the blood backing into her chest and heart, trying to force its way to her brain. It was incredible, holding life in his hands. How many times had he dreamt of this moment, never knowing if he would have the will to actually do it? But could he go through with it? He could simply pull away and she would live. It was too late for that. She was staring into his face. And it felt good to watch her life slip away, knowing that he was in control of the decision to kill her or let her live. He kept his grip on her as she struggled and fought until her body slid back into the chair. It was incredible, holding life in his hands. How many times had he dreamt of this moment, never knowing if he would have the will to actually do it? But could he go through with it? He could simply pull away and she would live. It was too late for that. She was staring into his face. And it felt good to watch her life slip away, knowing that he was in control of the decision to kill her or let her live. He kept his grip on her as she struggled and fought until her body slid back into the chair. People always thought about killing others when they were angry, but they seldom meant it. Richter had actually followed through on his desire, not out of anger, but simply because he chose to do it. He had wanted to know what it would be like to take someone's life. The actual feeling was far more exhilarating than he had ever expected. People always thought about killing others when they were angry, but they seldom meant it. Richter had actually followed through on his desire, not out of anger, but simply because he chose to do it. He had wanted to know what it would be like to take someone's life. The actual feeling was far more exhilarating than he had ever expected. He stood there for some time, overcome by this feeling of power. Suddenly he remembered that he was still in the library. Stupid. What was he thinking? He spun around to see if there was anyone behind him. He walked up and down the adjacent corridor. The book stacks were clear. They were alone. He stood there for some time, overcome by this feeling of power. Suddenly he remembered that he was still in the library. Stupid. What was he thinking? He spun around to see if there was anyone behind him. He walked up and down the adjacent corridor. The book stacks were clear. They were alone. He started to walk away, and then stopped to look at her one more time. The pretty anarchist's body was slouched in the chair with her head tilted back. Her eyes were open and bulging out of their sockets. The last thing they had seen was Richter. Her tongue was sticking out, her soft brown hair strewn across her face. It was a shame that she was going to look like such a mess when somebody found her. It seemed as though, in addition to losing her life, she had lost some of her dignity. For that he was sorry. He hurried back over to her, straightened her up in the chair and fixed her hair by brushing it off her face with the back of his hand. He started to walk away, and then stopped to look at her one more time. The pretty anarchist's body was slouched in the chair with her head tilted back. Her eyes were open and bulging out of their sockets. The last thing they had seen was Richter. Her tongue was sticking out, her soft brown hair strewn across her face. It was a shame that she was going to look like such a mess when somebody found her. It seemed as though, in addition to losing her life, she had lost some of her dignity. For that he was sorry. He hurried back over to her, straightened her up in the chair and fixed her hair by brushing it off her face with the back of his hand. She still looked terrible. He rested her arms on the table and placed her head down as if she were sleeping. That was better. She looked peaceful as long as you couldn't see her face. She still looked terrible. He rested her arms on the table and placed her head down as if she were sleeping. That was better. She looked peaceful as long as you couldn't see her face. A flash of panic raced through him. Had anyone seen A flash of panic raced through him. Had anyone seen his his face? Was the anarchist alone or was someone on the way right now to meet her for dinner? What about all the surfaces he had touched? He needed to stop, relax, think. He walked back into the men's room and wet some paper towels. He wiped down everything he could think of, from the doors to the tables and the fixtures in the men's room. As far as he was concerned he had never been anywhere near this woman, even if someone said they saw him with her. face? Was the anarchist alone or was someone on the way right now to meet her for dinner? What about all the surfaces he had touched? He needed to stop, relax, think. He walked back into the men's room and wet some paper towels. He wiped down everything he could think of, from the doors to the tables and the fixtures in the men's room. As far as he was concerned he had never been anywhere near this woman, even if someone said they saw him with her. Richter knew what he had done was impulsive, foolish, but he didn't regret killing her, although he never should have done it in such a public place. For now he simply needed to make sure that he didn't get caught. Should he leave the library? No. He'd be seen leaving the building around the time of her death and immediately become a suspect. His best course of action would be no action. He would go back to the carrel where he'd been studying and continue as if nothing had happened. Richter knew what he had done was impulsive, foolish, but he didn't regret killing her, although he never should have done it in such a public place. For now he simply needed to make sure that he didn't get caught. Should he leave the library? No. He'd be seen leaving the building around the time of her death and immediately become a suspect. His best course of action would be no action. He would go back to the carrel where he'd been studying and continue as if nothing had happened. The police would be called when her body was found and Richter would say he was in another part of the library. The police would never expect the killer to stay in the library. Even if they did suspect him, it wouldn't matter. As long as he stuck to his story, they would have no evidence against him. Never admit to anything. The best part was that he didn't even know her name. If he didn't know her, then he would have no reason to kill her. No motive. The perfect crime. The police would be called when her body was found and Richter would say he was in another part of the library. The police would never expect the killer to stay in the library. Even if they did suspect him, it wouldn't matter. As long as he stuck to his story, they would have no evidence against him. Never admit to anything. The best part was that he didn't even know her name. If he didn't know her, then he would have no reason to kill her. No motive. The perfect crime. He took a final glance at her. As he studied her he realized that only a few minutes earlier he'd been talking and arguing with this woman. She'd possessed intelligence, feelings, beliefs and beauty. She'd had cla.s.smates, friends and family. Now he'd touched all of their lives as well. Richter, a person they would never meet, had made a ma.s.sive, lasting impact on their lives and they didn't even know it yet. He took a final glance at her. As he studied her he realized that only a few minutes earlier he'd been talking and arguing with this woman. She'd possessed intelligence, feelings, beliefs and beauty. She'd had cla.s.smates, friends and family. Now he'd touched all of their lives as well. Richter, a person they would never meet, had made a ma.s.sive, lasting impact on their lives and they didn't even know it yet.

CHAPTER 58.

"You may proceed with your opening statement, Mr. Darget," Judge Sterling Davis said from the bench. The jury had just been sworn in. Connie had studied them as the clerk administered their oath: "Do you swear that you shall well and truly try the issues between the Commonwealth and the defendant according to the evidence, so help you G.o.d?" Sterling Davis said from the bench. The jury had just been sworn in. Connie had studied them as the clerk administered their oath: "Do you swear that you shall well and truly try the issues between the Commonwealth and the defendant according to the evidence, so help you G.o.d?"

"Thank you, Your Honor." Connie poured some water into a cup. He intended to put his evidence in quickly and efficiently, to get the jurors to focus on him rather than Judge Davis, who had spent the last two hours directing them through the impanelment process. Now it was Connie's turn to let the jurors know that they were in his his courtroom. courtroom.

Connie rose from his chair. Mitch, Brendan and Andi were in the back of the courtroom watching his opening, and in a way he was performing for them as much as for the jury. He wanted to convey to the jury that they were the most important people in the courtroom. There was an implicit deal that he struck with his juries through his mannerisms and the intonation in his voice: He was going to offer them his undivided attention in return for theirs.

Connie stepped behind his chair and pushed it in. He had to show a concerned expression, a look that told the jurors he was so troubled by this case that he didn't know where to begin.

Once he felt that they were all watching him, and there was absolute silence in the courtroom, Connie looked up at the jury and scanned the panel, making eye contact with each of them before speaking.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Conrad Darget and I represent the Commonwealth in this case. During this trial you'll hear testimony that this man, Victor Carrasquillo," he said as he stood in front of the defendant, pointing his finger at his sullen, defiant face, "sold crack cocaine while in possession of a firearm. You will hear testimony from several police officers that they observed the defendant sell drugs to a known drug user and that when they placed the defendant under arrest he had a loaded nine-millimeter firearm in his waistband."

Then Connie explained the facts of his case and what he expected the evidence to be, making sure the jury felt that he was fair and unbiased toward the defendant, even while he advocated for a conviction. Connie could make the jury believe it was the evidence itself, not him, arguing and proving the defendant's guilt.

Until eight months ago, Connie had lost most of his trials. Last September Judge Samuels had pulled him aside and critiqued his performance after one of those losses. It was the last time Connie had taken Jesse Wilc.o.x to trial.

The door to Judge Nathan Samuels's chambers was open. Connie rapped gently on the door frame. He wasn't in the mood for any words of encouragement. He'd done such a pathetic job that even the judge felt bad for him. And not just any judge, but Judge Samuels, one of the toughest judges in the city. "Good evening, Mr. Darget," Judge Samuels said. "Come on in." When they'd built the new courthouse, the legislature made sure the judges were taken care of with lavish surroundings. The walls in Judge Samuels's chambers were paneled with solid mahogany. The judge was an imposing figure behind his antique oak desk. "Good evening, Mr. Darget," Judge Samuels said. "Come on in." When they'd built the new courthouse, the legislature made sure the judges were taken care of with lavish surroundings. The walls in Judge Samuels's chambers were paneled with solid mahogany. The judge was an imposing figure behind his antique oak desk. "Your Honor, I know what you're going to say. 'Hey kid, don't be down on yourself. You did a great job, but you had a typical Suffolk County jury. They never trust the police-'" "Your Honor, I know what you're going to say. 'Hey kid, don't be down on yourself. You did a great job, but you had a typical Suffolk County jury. They never trust the police-'" "You think I called you in here to show you pity?" Judge Samuels asked. His usual stoic appearance changed to annoyance. "Young man, I brought you in here to inform you that you lost that trial before it ever started." "You think I called you in here to show you pity?" Judge Samuels asked. His usual stoic appearance changed to annoyance. "Young man, I brought you in here to inform you that you lost that trial before it ever started." Connie was stunned. Connie was stunned. "You have no concept of how to pick a jury. I've presided over your last three trials, all acquittals. You never use your peremptory challenges to strike jurors." "You have no concept of how to pick a jury. I've presided over your last three trials, all acquittals. You never use your peremptory challenges to strike jurors." "I like to a.s.sume that all jurors will honor their oath to decide the case according to the evidence." "I like to a.s.sume that all jurors will honor their oath to decide the case according to the evidence." "That's your first mistake," Samuels said curtly. "Jurors in this city come in here looking for reasons to acquit defendants. You need to convince the jury that there's no way they could possibly find him not guilty." "That's your first mistake," Samuels said curtly. "Jurors in this city come in here looking for reasons to acquit defendants. You need to convince the jury that there's no way they could possibly find him not guilty." "But, Your Honor, I thought I picked the ideal jury this time, with the perfect foreperson." "But, Your Honor, I thought I picked the ideal jury this time, with the perfect foreperson." "That is precisely the problem, Mr. Darget. You picked an inadequate jury, especially the foreperson. She was barely out of college and working her first real job. That girl had no life experience to apply toward making a decision in a criminal case where a man faced imprisonment." "That is precisely the problem, Mr. Darget. You picked an inadequate jury, especially the foreperson. She was barely out of college and working her first real job. That girl had no life experience to apply toward making a decision in a criminal case where a man faced imprisonment." "I hadn't thought of that." Connie felt like a fool. "I hadn't thought of that." Connie felt like a fool. "You also left three college students on your jury. Mr. Darget, I'm going to let you in on a secret. Students don't know s.h.i.t from apple b.u.t.ter. They can't decide what cla.s.ses they're going to take next semester. How do you expect them to decide on a man's fate? The easier decision for jurors is always to let the accused go free and then convince themselves that the Commonwealth failed to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt." "You also left three college students on your jury. Mr. Darget, I'm going to let you in on a secret. Students don't know s.h.i.t from apple b.u.t.ter. They can't decide what cla.s.ses they're going to take next semester. How do you expect them to decide on a man's fate? The easier decision for jurors is always to let the accused go free and then convince themselves that the Commonwealth failed to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt." "Judge Samuels, I always try to select younger jurors. I think I can connect better with people closer to my age." "Judge Samuels, I always try to select younger jurors. I think I can connect better with people closer to my age." "Mr. Darget, your thinking is flawed. Young people don't have anything invested in this community. They come here to go to school and stay on for a few years to work and party before going back home. The people who have a stake in keeping crime down and sending guilty people to jail are the middle-aged and elderly homeowners." "Mr. Darget, your thinking is flawed. Young people don't have anything invested in this community. They come here to go to school and stay on for a few years to work and party before going back home. The people who have a stake in keeping crime down and sending guilty people to jail are the middle-aged and elderly homeowners." "You think I would have won this case if I'd picked a better jury?" "You think I would have won this case if I'd picked a better jury?" "Maybe, maybe not. But you need to pick better juries if you're going to have a chance. You can't just pick pretty young women you enjoy looking at. They distract you. And the men on your jury aren't paying attention to the evidence." "Maybe, maybe not. But you need to pick better juries if you're going to have a chance. You can't just pick pretty young women you enjoy looking at. They distract you. And the men on your jury aren't paying attention to the evidence." Judge Samuels was right. Connie stood up, deep in thought, and started to wander out of the judge's chambers. Judge Samuels was right. Connie stood up, deep in thought, and started to wander out of the judge's chambers. "You're welcome, Mr. Darget," Judge Samuels said. "You're welcome, Mr. Darget," Judge Samuels said. "I'm sorry, Your Honor. Thanks for the advice. I was just trying to figure out how to connect with older jurors once I've got them seated." "I'm sorry, Your Honor. Thanks for the advice. I was just trying to figure out how to connect with older jurors once I've got them seated." "By being yourself. Don't try copying what other people do in the courtroom. Develop your own presence. Don't be discouraged, Mr. Darget. Keep practicing and you'll see improvement. Remember the only way to practice is by trying cases in front of real juries." "By being yourself. Don't try copying what other people do in the courtroom. Develop your own presence. Don't be discouraged, Mr. Darget. Keep practicing and you'll see improvement. Remember the only way to practice is by trying cases in front of real juries."

Connie later learned that Judge Samuels made it a point to summon each of the young lawyers in the DA's office to his chambers for his critiques. The judge seemed to feel that it was his responsibility to act as a mentor. For Connie, the meeting was a watershed event in his career, leading him to a revelation about how to better prepare for trial and connect with jurors. He began to practice his openings and closings at home. He allowed his personality to come through so jurors would like him, trust him and convict the defendants he was prosecuting. Like small-time pusher Victor Carrasquillo.

"All the testimony you hear in this case will come from this witness stand." Connie walked over and placed his hand on the rail in front of the stand. "These witnesses will tell you about what they observed on the day in question. They will tell you about the transaction they saw this defendant engage in with another individual. They will tell you about the drugs they recovered from this other individual. Finally they will tell you about the gun they recovered from the person of Victor Carrasquillo."

Connie moved to the center of the courtroom, directly in front of the jury box, scanning the jurors. "But these witnesses aren't ordinary witnesses. They aren't just people off the street who have never seen a drug transaction before. The witnesses you will hear from in this case are all experienced officers who specialize in drug investigations. You will have the opportunity to see and hear them testify so that you can judge the credibility of their testimony."

After losing so many trials early on, there had been times when Connie didn't want to stand before another jury. Now things were different. He'd had more trials than any other prosecutor in the courthouse. Whenever there was a difficult case others were afraid to try, Connie would throw eight in the box and go. If he kept trying the tough cases, he knew that he would eventually achieve his dream of becoming one of the top prosecutors in the district attorney's office.

CHAPTER 59.

Using his fork, Angel Alves pushed the black beans on his plate, creating a small hill surrounded by a moat of yellow saffron rice, a chicken drumstick acting as a bridge across the moat. creating a small hill surrounded by a moat of yellow saffron rice, a chicken drumstick acting as a bridge across the moat.

He tried to avoid looking at Marcy. She seemed more sad than angry. She couldn't be angry with him. She had lost an old friend too. Alves was sure she wanted him to do everything he could to catch the killer. But now she was losing her husband to the investigation. She'd made an attempt at conversation, telling him how Iris and Angel had done at gymnastics, but it was forced. All he could think about was how old Mrs. Stokes had looked the last time he saw her.

He had spent endless days calling funeral homes in the region, checking to see if they were missing embalming fluids and running the criminal records of all their employees.

One local place of interest was the boarded-up Jones Funeral Home in Mattapan. The business had been run into the ground by the son of the original owner. There was something about that fairly new lock to the bas.e.m.e.nt and the way the son couldn't find the key that nagged at Alves. Once they broke the lock and got in, they found a decent stock of dusty chemicals. Things looked pretty much undisturbed. But since the records were either damaged or lacking altogether, there was no way to tell if anything was missing.

Marcy started to clear the dishes. Alves felt guilty for not commenting on the meal or asking Marcy about her day. But he knew that it would lead to complaints about her getting stuck with the kids' activities. Then she would feel selfish, knowing that he was doing this for Mrs. Stokes and for Robyn.

"I'm taking the kids in town tomorrow after school." Marcy broke the silence. "We're going to the aquarium."

"That sounds like fun," Alves said to the kids, trying to be festive.

"Daddy, can you come?" Iris looked up at him with her little smile. She was going to be beautiful like her mother.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but Daddy has to work tomorrow."

"But you work every day," Angel pleaded. "Why can't you come with us tomorrow?"

"I just can't, buddy. Once Daddy finishes working on this big case, he'll take you guys somewhere fun."

"Promise?" Iris asked.

"Cross my heart." Alves caught Marcy's eye as she sponged the table. "I'll call the captain down at District 1 and see if he'll let you park out front. Save some money."

"We're taking the train. I hate driving in traffic and the T is faster."

Alves didn't like the idea of her bundling up the twins and all they needed for a day at the aquarium onto the subway. He was all too familiar with the characters you found on the trains. And on their way home they'd have to deal with the rowdy teenagers getting out of school. But what else can you do?

It was so obvious that he was shocked they hadn't thought of it before. People who live in the city take the T to work. They don't waste time fighting traffic, finding a place to park. They relax and read the paper.

"Marcy, that's it."

"That's what?"

"Angel, Iris, why don't you guys go upstairs and play? Mommy and I will be up in a few minutes to get you ready for bed." He waited until the two of them started up the stairs. He stood up and took out his cell phone. "That's where he's finding his victims. It has to be. All of the victims have been professional women who took the T into work every day. He didn't meet them out at New Balance. If he did we'd probably have victims outside the city. He's choosing his victims while they're riding a train or a bus, oblivious that some psycho is watching them. Then he's following them home so he can stalk them at his leisure before killing them."

"My G.o.d." Marcy gasped. "If this is true, you need to warn people."

Alves. .h.i.t the speed dial on his phone. "That's why I'm calling Sarge."

CHAPTER 60.

Richter watched with disgust as Richard Speck pranced around his prison cell with his shirt off, flabby chest and stomach flopping around. He was showing off for the camera. prison cell with his shirt off, flabby chest and stomach flopping around. He was showing off for the camera.

The doc.u.mentary started with footage of the crime Speck had committed, murdering eight student nurses in their South Chicago town house. Initially, Speck had entered their apartment to commit a burglary, forcing his way in with a gun and a knife. He found six women in the house and, over the next hour, three others returned home. He had planned to tie them up and rob them, but once he had them under his control he decided to rape, strangle and stab them too. He killed all of the women except for the one who had answered the door when he forced his way in. She had somehow managed to hide under a bed and Speck lost track of her. She later identified him by the tattoo on his forearm that read "Born to Raise h.e.l.l."

Richter was especially bothered by the crime because Speck killed the women for no reason. For one moment in his sorry life, Speck found himself in a position of power, and he abused that power. He hadn't killed the women for the good of society. He did it for pure self-gratification, and for that he deserved to rot in h.e.l.l.