Both Judge Adams and Olivia Northum poised themselves to respond, but Judge Haskell beat them to the punch.

“I’m glad you mention strategy,” Haskell said. He looked into the distance pensively. “One thing that really struck me was this Kyle Cooper character. Can you please explain how he figures into Mr. Evans’s strategy or lack thereof.”

“I’m glad, Judge Haskell,” Ms. Northum started, “that you bring up Kyle Cooper, or ‘Cool Kyle’ as he was known. He serves as an illustrative example of Mr. Evans’s lack of strategy. He testified on the state’s behalf against Mr. Nelson.” Ms. Northum nodded ever so slightly in Dell Nelson’s direction, causing every judge to look at the clean-shaven, innocuous-looking man they were about to send to the electric chair. “All Tip Evans had to do was cross-examine Kyle on a host of things—such as how he’d been arrested and jailed for drug dealing and, while he was serving time, how Mr. Nelson provided for his pregnant girlfriend—”

“Yes, but let’s not get away from the basic fact that we are dealing with a man who was convicted of a gruesome murder,” Judge Newburg said, waving both of his hands, “and we’re not talking about a situation where a man wasn’t afforded a proper trial and sentencing.” Judge Newburg, a former entertainment lawyer, had been appointed by President Reagan, allegedly as a favor to a former Hollywood chum. Newburg was notoriously average. Considering the irrelevancy of his point and his misplaced gesticulation, “average” seemed generous.

“With all due respect, Judge Newburg,” Ms. Northum said, looking embarrassed, “we’re here to determine whether a man was, in fact, afforded a proper sentencing. That is not something presumed at this stage.”

“What I think Judge Newburg was saying”—Judge Adams came to the rescue—“is that one could argue, as Tip Evans did, that he chose not to cross-examine Kyle Cooper because his testimony had been so damning; he just wanted him out of the witness chair as soon as possible.”

“HE WAS SAYING MY BROTHER WAS GRUESOMELY KILLED BY THIS ANIMAL!” Robert Nussbaum screamed, grabbing Dell Nelson’s ear.

Half the room, including many judges, ducked to the ground.

“My ear! He’s pulling my ear!” Dell Nelson squealed, swatting at Nussbaum’s hand. Even some of the folks who’d stopped, dropped, and rolled managed to crook their necks to glimpse the gruesome murderer with the voice of a preteen girl.

“Ow!” Nelson squealed again, before his ear was freed by one of his security guards. His other guard carted off Robert Nussbaum. Two courtroom police officers hovered in the back behind an American flag. So much for our bravest.

“Order! Order!” Judge Fleck yelled, returning from his hiding place under the bench. To their credit, both Judge Adams and Friedman hadn’t moved from their chairs, like captains unwilling to desert their judicial ships.