Once they were inside the monument to lace and doilies that defined Maggie’s living room, everyone took a seat. Victoria and McCrea occupied the sofa across from the fireplace, while Rory sat in the chair next to the fireplace.

“Why didn’t you just pronounce sentence while we were in there?” McCrea asked. “Doc Stevenson here made damn convincing points.”

“Kinda wondering the same thing myself,” Rory said.

Victoria rested her elbows on her knees and put her face in her hands. Why the hell did she agree to do this? “Here’s the thing,” she said, hoping that her hands might press the encroaching boomer back into her head. “Clearly, that boy cannot be proclaimed guilty.” She raised her head. “But not a soul out there is going to believe that he is innocent.” She pointed at McCrea. “If nothing else, he was part of a crowd that shot at you. Shot at my son.”

“Those weren’t the charges,” Rory said. “And being present is not the same as actually shooting. As you heard him say—”

“You rested your case,” Victoria interrupted. “And I heard every word of it. If Brandon-Lee walks away from this without some form of punishment, he’s going to end up dead within a couple of days.”

“And the downside of that is what?” McCrea asked.

“The downside will be the collapse of recognized authority. We’ve talked about this before. There is no law and order anymore. There’s just an agreement to get along. And that’s as fragile as people’s perceptions of fairness.”

“So, what are you suggesting?” Rory asked. “Was everything I just went through some kind of charade?”

“Not at all,” Victoria said. “You painted a perfect picture, one brushstroke at a time, that showed Brandon-Lee to be not guilty of murder or assault. You literally saved his life.”

“So, why are we here?”

Victoria explained, “You heard those questions from the gallery. Mr. Jake is pissed off, for God’s sake, and he plays Santa Claus in his spare time. People expect Brandon-Lee’s actions to have a consequence.”

McCrea looked at her as if she were crazy. “How do you punish someone in the absence of evidence?”

“Says the man who engaged in a gun battle with his kin,” Victoria said.

“This isn’t the same,” McCrea said, clearly not taking the bait. “That was an exercise in self-defense. What you’re talking about . . . What are you talking about, anyway? What kind of punishment do you have in mind?”

“Something convincing, not crippling.”

“Corporal punishment of some kind?”

“There’s historical precedent,” Rory said, drawing their full attention. “Back in the colonial days, towns kept order through public humiliation and ritual scarring.”

“Would these be the same colonial times when we burned witches at the stake?” McCrea taunted.