She looked at the jurors one by one.
“This case asks you to convict a man based on assumptions. On anger. On hindsight. And on other people’s narratives.
“When you hear the actual evidence—all of it—you will see something different.
“You will see gaps.
“You will see guesses.
“You will see that the State has built a narrative.”
Her voice lowered.
“And narratives,” she finished quietly, “are not enough to take away a man’s life.”
She stepped back.
“No further opening, Your Honor.”
Judge Harlan nodded.
“Court will take a fifteen-minute recess.”
The gavel struck once.
“Court is in recess.”
The courtroom erupted into motion.
Jurors were escorted out.
Reporters leaned toward one another, whispering.
Reid gathered his papers.
Eleanor began organizing her notes.
A courthouse deputy approached the bench and handed something to the clerk.
The clerk looked puzzled.
Then she leaned toward Judge Harlan.
The judge opened the envelope.
He studied the documents for a long moment.
His expression hardened.
Judge Harlan looked out over the courtroom.
Then toward the lawyers’ tables.
“Mr. Calloway.”
Reid looked up.
“Ms. Harper.”
