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Back Legacy of Lies Save as PDF
Chapters (88)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. PART ONE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. PART TWO
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. PART THREE
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. 59
  67. PART FOUR
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. 69
  78. 70
  79. 71
  80. 72
  81. 73
  82. 74
  83. 75
  84. 76
  85. 77
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  88. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

They never discussed the abortion during their marriage, only hinting at it a few times when they were having difficulty conceiving a child. Despite Butch’s weakness, Helen knew the divorce was as much her fault as his. She craved the power she had obtained as the head prosecutor, but her need to dominate in the courtroom had eventually transferred over to their marriage. After a while, Butch couldn’t take the constant battle for alpha supremacy. First he had started drinking too much, and eventually he had been unfaithful.

Helen sighed, tired of torturing herself with this lonesome train of memories. She sat up in the cot and gazed at her reflection in the Plexiglas window across from her.

When she tried to think about the moments when she was in Butch’s house the night of April 1, 2015, the images came in and out in the same way that memories of her rape did. She could see Butch sitting drunk and helpless on his couch. She could feel the anger and bitterness in her veins. She could sense the cold metal of the gun she held in her hand.

The revolver, she thought, remembering that the weapon hadn’t been in her glove compartment the day after the murder. I left it at his house, she thought. And when that comes out at the prelim . . .

. . . I might as well accept life in prison.

She gazed around the holding cell, and depression began to set in. She thought of the choice she had made in 1977. The lies she had told. The lives she had hurt. And then she lay down on her side and closed her eyes.

I’m exactly where I should be.

38

38

At 4:55 p.m. on Friday, April 5, 2015, five minutes before the close of business, Gloria Sanchez walked into the Giles County Sheriff’s Office. She’d given the General four full days to come clean on what she had done, during almost all of which her hero and mentor had been incarcerated.

She’d expected that by now Helen Lewis would have given up any hope of a successful defense. That her attorney, Bocephus Haynes—widely regarded as the best lawyer in town—would have convinced her of the futility of pressing forward.

But instead of a confession, the only things that had come from the defendant were motions for discovery and a preliminary hearing. For all intents and purposes, it appeared that the General was going to fight.

Gloria strode down the narrow hallway past the booking desk, nodding at the deputies, sergeants, and lieutenants she’d come to know over her past thirty-six months as General Lewis’s top assistant prosecutor. She’d learned so much from Helen Lewis. How to size up a case. Its strengths. Weaknesses. And most importantly, its theme. What was the case all about? With many crimes, the theme ran parallel to the motive for the act. Revenge. Greed. Hate. Love.