Chapter TwelveA MESSAGE163
TWO HOURS LATER, WE GOT THE CALL. “THEY HAVE A VERDICT,” said Judge Larson’s clerk.
By the time we arrived downstairs in Judge Larson’s court, the defense was already in place. Many of those who had listened to the closing arguments were also back in court.
The jurors filed in. One by one, they shuffled down the two narrow aisles in the jury box, and settled quietly into their seats—blank stares, no outward emotion, no eye contact, nothing.
I glanced at Joan. She was sitting with her ankles crossed, fidgeting with a paper clip. Dark circles ringed her eyes. She appeared as if she hadn’t been getting much sleep. She looked isolated, worried, lonely, and completely drained.
I could tell she was thinking the same thing ...