But as for any penalty or punishment beyond the guilty verdict itself, a civil suit never entails a prison sentence, and it turns out the defendant has no money for wrongful death compensation. A court-ordered search of bank records for Joseph Richter turns up nothing. The impression of Joey having stashed unspent funds from his life of crime turns out to have originated with a jailhouse informant who communicated that to the prosecution team from the criminal trial. The previous prosecutors provided the name of the informant, Will Shale, but he had been released some time ago, and no one can locate him now to follow up.

Nat Becker is never compensated by the party that retained him beyond a small initial down payment for taking the case. When it becomes clear that Joey Richter has no resources, Becker is questioned by the court and the press about who actually hired him. He avoids answering directly. He seems embarrassed to have accepted the case.

Judge Litvinov’s sentence provides for the garnishment of all future earnings from the defendant. It’s all Litvinov can do, really. Zack, Steve, and Emily assume—and, ironically, hope—that it will amount to only a few dollars a week, taken from Joey’s prison earnings because, even before the civil case verdict from Litvinov has been delivered, the state files its new criminal case against Joey Richter on lesser criminal charges. Assault, conspiracy, manslaughter, criminal possession of a weapon, attempted murder. All viable charges to get Joey Richter off the street.

In the end, the Civil Part 231 proceedings are overshadowed by what happened—or what hadn’t happened, thankfully—inside that courtroom.

Ending not with a bang but a whimper, thinks Zack. And in this case, a whimper is better.

The details of that day, of the plan and of the device, are eventually made clear to Litvinov. He realizes how close he came to dying and that this was not just another empty bomb threat deserving only groans and eye-rolls.

He is asked whether he recognized Karloff. A fellow Bulgarian immigrant. He shakes his head. No, sorry.

“I did notice the man you’re talking about at the back of the gallery,” Litvinov says. “Maybe something was vaguely familiar about him. But I can’t place it. It must be too far, too dimly in the past.”

85.

85.

The hunt for Karloff soon involves much of the department.

Because now he’s been seen. He’s no longer a shadowy half-figure. Now there are current photos to go with the name, and a real name—Demetri Calunius—not merely a street name. Now his image is enhanced in multiple angles from multiple courthouse cameras. Entering. Exiting in a panicked hurry.

The shadowy portrait finally fills in. Racketeering, armed robbery, burglary, weapons charges, pornography, and prostitution.

The boy assassin who’d made his way to America. To the American underworld, where he established and administered a long-running criminal enterprise.