Page 88 of One of Us Is Guilty

‘It bothers you.’

‘Yeah, it does.’

‘Then go find out why.’

TRIAL

33

Eddie

A murder trial is not about truth.

It’s about who tells the best story. Is it the defense? Or the prosecution? Who has presented the most likely and probable version of events to the jury? Even if the prosecution has told a good story, have they proven their case beyond all reasonable doubt?

Where is the truth in any of this?

I used to say the truth has no place in a courtroom. I’m not sure about that any more. In this world, right now, the truth has become more ethereal. More pliable. America is divided. The world is divided. Each side has their own truth. Their own facts.

What happens to the world when nobody pays attention to the truth?

The answer is simple.

It’s war.

That’s what a trial really is. A battle.

And we all had exactly the same method of warfare – questions.

Normally, a question seeks truth. But not in a murder trial. Here, a question is a weapon, a trap, a shield and a sword. Questions can alter perception, confuse, change facts, manipulate memory and even alter time. I had a lot of questions to ask in this trial. For thepast two months I had been sharpening them in my mind like finely edged blades.

Glancing over at the prosecution table, I saw the assistant district attorney in charge of this trial, Kurt Riley, scribbling notes on a legal pad. No doubt he had a few daggers to throw my way.

Despite his youth, he was a talent. Not only did he have a natural gift, but he worked at it too. He was the first person in the office and the last to leave. He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke and didn’t socialize with anyone in the workplace. His focus was on his cases, and his healthy lifestyle regime. His suit was too tight, after the fashion of young men in their late twenties who spent too much time in the gym listening to podcasts on creatine dosing. He was an angular man, from his jaw and cheekbones to his triceps and quads, all of it accentuated by the ill-fitting suit, the jacket button straining to stay closed over his wide chest. I’d done my research on my opponent. He was a rising star in the DA’s office, a graduate of Brown University, but despite his excellent grades he had no real connections in the legal world. He needed to make a name for himself, and the DA’s office often provided a platform for talented trial lawyers to make the jump into private practice.

As much as Riley wanted to win this trial for his ego, and his boss, the DA, there was no getting away from the fact that the trial presented him with an opportunity. He would use the high-profile murder of Molly Green as an audition.

He rose from behind the prosecution table, walked solemnly to the center of the courtroom and stood in front of the jury. His voice was deep and authoritative.

‘Members of the jury, you have a decision to make at the end of this trial. It’s not going to be a difficult one. The defendant, Vanessa Vanderpool, murdered Molly Green. We will prove this to you. For now, just take a moment to look at the defendant . . .’

The five men and seven women on the jury turned to look at my client. I’d already told her what to do in case she saw the jurylooking at her. She should stare right back. Standard instructions to defendants. Only the guilty hide their eyes from those who would judge them.

Vanessa had dressed in a navy business suit and white blouse, her blonde hair tied back, with little make-up, tasteful jewelry. But there was no hiding it. Even a casual glance told you this was a woman of wealth and privilege.

‘Right now, Vanessa Vanderpool has everything. Not only is she rich, but she has power. And it’s that power which corrupted her. People with power don’t give it up too easily. That power flowed from her husband, the respected politician, Patrick Vanderpool. The defendant was jealous of her husband’s beautiful new personal assistant, Molly Green. This jealousy festered into paranoia. The defendant convinced herself that Molly was trying to seduce her husband. If that happened, she could lose everything. She became convinced she had to protect herself. Her wealth. Her marriage. On the night of February seventeenth, she went to Molly’s apartment, and confronted her . . .’

Riley pointed to a large screen facing the jury.

An image appeared. His assistants had put it up there from the laptop linked to the screen. A woman in her mid-twenties, with curly dark hair, a warm vanilla skin tone and a beautiful smile stared at the jury members.

‘This is Molly Green. Her youth and beauty were destroyed that night. The defendant fought with Molly in her apartment. But this wasn’t an argument that got out of control. Vanessa Vanderpool visited the victim’s apartment that night with one intention – murder. The defendant’s DNA was left behind on a jewelry box in that apartment. That same jewelry box also had the victim’s blood on it. We will call a DNA expert and a forensic crime scene expert to prove that it was the defendant who took the victim’s life in this savage attack, using this box as a weapon. And then, in her rage and jealousy, she mutilated the victim’s body. It is our case that thedefendant struck the victim with that jewelry box, crushing her skull. To hide her crime, the defendant decapitated the victim. This is shocking, I know, for all of us. Yet it shows the premeditation and planning of this murder. You might look at the defendant, and think she is not capable of such a terrible act. Don’t be fooled. Follow the evidence. We will not only prove that this happened, but we will show you security camera footage of the defendant leaving the victim’s apartment building with a gym bag in her hands. And we all know what is in that bag, ladies and gentlemen. The footage will show you Vanessa Vanderpool trying to hide her terrible crime by disposing of the victim’s head. Don’t let her get away with this murder. Listen carefully to all of the evidence. We will prove to you beyond a reasonable doubt that Vanessa Vanderpool is a cold-blooded killer. And you, ladies and gentlemen, will give justice to Molly Green by finding the defendant guilty.’

He paused, turned to the screen, looked at the picture of the victim.

The jury followed his gaze.

Without another word, Riley strode back to the prosecution table and sat down, leaving the jury to drink in that image of young Molly Green. A picture of youth, vitality and all the possibilities of life. No one could look at that woman and not feel the sadness and tragedy of a life cut short.