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I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. It wasn’t a very useful answer.
“What about the in-person lineup, were all the men Black that time?”
Silence. Then, “That didn’t happen. Why did you ask it that way?”
“What do mean?”
“You’re asking like I’ve already said it happened. But I didn’t. Do you think I’m lying? Are you trying to trick me?”
“I don’t think you’re lying.” I did try to trick her.
“It was a very bad time. I try not to think about it.”
“I’m sorry to bring all of this up.”
“I think I remember saying no. I think Brenda wanted me to come to the police station and look at men, the way they do on TV. I said I couldn’t. Even from behind a glass. I couldn’t—”
“It’s all right. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Why do you think there was that kind of lineup?”
“Because Alan Dinkman remembers it.”
After a long moment, she said, “Dios mio.”
I said good-bye and then sat there for a long time thinking about what this meant or didn’t mean. It appeared that Detective Wellesley had wanted Selma to go to an in-person lineup, and when Selma said no, she’d gone ahead and had the lineup anyway. But why? Did she think that by putting Alan through that and then telling him he’d been identified that he’d confess?
Did she show the copied photos to Selma before or after the lineup? Was she trying to make Alan feel like he’d been identified even before it had happened? These were things we’d need to ask Detective Wellesley.
I glanced at the file on Wellesley that Karen had put together and decided to make another call.
“Hi, I’m trying to reach Brysen Yates.”
“He’s not at this number anymore,” a man said.
“Do you have a number where I could reach him?”
“I don’t. I think he moved to Mexico. Or he might have gone backpacking in Europe. You never know with Brysen.”
“His friend Larry Wilkes gave me this number. If you see Brysen—”
He broke up laughing. “This is Brysen. Sorry, I thought you were a bill collector. Who are you?”
“My name is Dom Reilly. I work for The Freedom Agenda. We are considering—”
“You’re going to get Larry out of prison, and then you’re going to get him paid, aren’t you?”
“We haven’t taken his case. I’m looking into it to see if there’s anything we can use to get him a new trial. I visited him yesterday and he asked me to call you.”
“Oh, isn’t he sweet.”
“He said you’re the reason he wants to get out.”
“I’m blushing.” He barely took a breath before asking, “He’s been in there nearly twenty years, he’ll get a ton of money, won’t he?”
“I don’t know. We don’t do civil litigation,” I explained.
“But someone will. And he’ll get millions of dollars.”
