Page 127 of Fifty-Fifty

‘In my opinion, yes, this is Frank Avellino’s journal.’

People shifted in their seats, moving forward, eager to hear this testimony. It sounded like an army getting ready to march. It began behind Kate, from the gallery, and spread like a brush fire.

‘Silence in court,’ said Judge Stone.

‘And with the materials provided, which you mentioned, what did you do to examine the journal, Doctor?’

‘I carried out a forensic examination of the control samples, the known examples of Frank Avellino’s handwriting, and I compared it with the

handwriting in this journal.’

‘And what were your findings?’

Before answering, Sagrada picked up the water jug in the witness box, poured some into a plastic cup and took a drink. She set the cup down and angled her

gaze to the jury.

‘The control samples were all good. Some letters, some signatures. This gave me a good base of comparison for the victim’s handwriting. I then took into account known factors. From reading the toxicology report, I knew the victim had Haloperidol in his system, and this accorded with some of my observations

of the handwriting in the journal. There were passages in the journal that very clearly correlated with the victim’s handwriting, and some, which did not. These passages looked like the author was under the influence of drugs or alcohol, although the style was the same, the hand was clearly loose and difficult to control. But, in my view, the same.’

‘Just to be clear, Doctor, what was your conclusion regarding the identity of the author of the journal?’

‘In my professional opinion, Frank Avellino wrote this journal,’ she said.

‘How certain can you be?’

‘In this case, because of the influence of drugs, I can only say that in my professional judgment, authorship lies with Frank Avellino. There is enough consistency in the formation, construction and pattern of letter formation, syntax and sentence construction to lead me to that belief.’

‘Thank you. Would you read the last entry in the journal please? October second, I believe. Two days before the murder.’

Kate fixed her view on the jury. She’d already read the entry. She wanted to see how the jury would react.

‘October second,’ began Sagrada. ‘I know what’s been going on. She’s been poisoning my food. I saw her tonight. She poured something into the soup from a white bottle. Then hid it in her purse. She thought I didn’t see. I bet she’s been putting it in my smoothies too. I’m going to change my will, then I’m going to

call the cops. I’m not crazy. I’m not sick. It’s her. I asked her what she put in my soup. She said I was imagining things. I need to act fast, so I didn’t push the issue. My God, I never thought it would have been her who betrayed me …’

Sagrada looked up from the notebook; she didn’t need to read along with the last sentence. She knew it by heart.

‘It was Sofia.’

A wail erupted. Kate turned and saw Sofia on her feet, Eddie holding her back. She was screaming, her face red, hair stuck to her skin as she pointed at the witness, then shouted again and pointed at Alexandra.

‘No, it’s all lies. It’s Alexandra. She’s the murderer! I’m innocent!’

Alexandra sat passively beside Kate, ignoring Sofia. For the first time in the history of this trial, Kate saw her client sitting in a relaxed, almost calm state.

Kate knew then, without question, that this journal was what Eddie had predicted. This was the get-out-of-jail-free card for Alexandra. A piece of evidence that frames an innocent woman. Kate would have no part in it. She couldn’t directly challenge her own client in court. She had to trust Eddie to do something and the best Kate could do would be not to get in his way. Her first

case as lead counsel. Her very first murder trial, and all Kate could think was that she hoped she would lose.

FORTY-SIX

EDDIE

‘We know the journal is a fake. We just have to prove it,’ I said.

The red blotches on Sofia’s face looked raw and angry. Her eyelids were swollen, along with the skin around them. She hadn’t stopped shaking all day.