Joey should jump across the defense table and get his hands around the kid’s neck. Do what he should have a long time ago. He’d be pulled off Zack before any damage could be done but the point would be made. And what harm would come of it? He’s going away for life, or worse, and one last stranglehold isn’t going to make any difference.

“So you just happen to see his phone code. And next, you happen to guess the password for his phone ID? His NY State prisoner number? You came up with it, right at the moment you needed it? You expect anyone here to believe that?”

Another shrug. “It’s all I had. Hey, he’s the one who chose those numbers for his ID code. Not me.”

Cope ignores the kid’s response. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Yellin, that such a lucky string of circumstance and guesswork strains credulity?”

Zack shrugs.

Cope asks again, “Wouldn’t you agree? Wouldn’t anyone agree?”

Zack shrugs. “I guess.”

“Mr. Yellin, have you ever been to Vegas?”

Zack looks puzzled. “No.”

“With your luck, you should definitely go,” says Cope, to sudden, broad laughter, before the judge warns him about relevance. “Mr. Cope…”

“Withdrawn…” But the point was made.

The kid is on the stand for a couple hours. Questioned, cross-examined, re-crossed. It makes Joey think of a speed bag, opposing attorneys on opposite sides, punching, backhanding, slapping, demonstrating their prowess to one another, showing off for one another, working the bag with skill and relish and delight.

In his two hours on the stand, Zack never looks at Joey.

Joey, on the other hand, stares at Zack the entire time—never takes his eyes off the kid—but Zack pretends Joey isn’t even there. As if the trial is taking place without Joey present. Like Joey himself is somehow just another of Joey’s lawyers.

When Zack steps down two hours later, he looks the same. Not wrung out. Not beaten down. Like he just got there. Curly red hair springing as he steps. Like it was a walk in the park.

Which is where he’s probably headed now, Joey thinks. He caught a glimpse of Emily in the back of the courtroom. There for support.

Headed to the park with Emily while Joey is certainly headed back to prison, and maybe worse.

The jury room on the fourteenth floor is flooded with light from a line of windows along one wall but the windows all have frosted glass to prevent jurors from gazing out onto the city, probably intended to encourage a jury’s focus.