During their marriage, which had ended in divorce in 1995, he liked to watch NASCAR on Sunday afternoons. He even took Helen to the Talladega 500 in 1991. Butch’s favorite driver was Dale Earnhardt, and it wasn’t just the man’s ability behind the wheel that made him a fan. “The Intimidator,” as Earnhardt was known, drove a black stock car with a white number 3 outlined in red painted on the sides. His helmet, jumpsuit, and racing glasses were also black and white, which made him strike a formidable pose on the track. At the race in ’Dega, Butch got them a seat close to Earnhardt’s pit crew. He said that the black car and uniform were the perfect complements to Earnhardt’s fearless, almost reckless brand of racing and made him stand out among all the other sponsor-supported cars with their colorful, forgettable designs. “Brilliant marketing,” her ex-husband marveled. The week after the race, Helen wore a black suit to work every day. Since then, it was the only color she had donned in the courtroom.

As she strode to the front, she let her eyes move over the swell of attorneys, a few of who were brave enough to issue a greeting. “General, how are you?” “Morning, General.” Helen nodded, saying nothing, but she relished the military bearing that was an oddity of Tennessee law. In most jurisdictions in the United States, the district attorney bore no title. He or she was simply called by Mr., Ms., or Mrs. in the courtroom. If there was any reference beyond that, it was simply as “the prosecutor.” But in the state of Tennessee, the district attorney was referred to as “General” during court proceedings. For Helen Lewis, who had been one of only a handful of women to graduate in her law school class of over one hundred at the University of Tennessee in 1978, to be referred to as “General” by the opposing attorney, who was almost always a man, was empowering.

When she stopped at the prosecution table, where Gloria Sanchez was removing file jackets from the briefcase, she caught the same look of trepidation in her young assistant’s eyes as she had seen in the gaze of the defense attorneys whom she had just walked past. And though Helen knew that her look and title added to her intimidation factor, the final and most important piece was her attitude.

Helen Evangeline Lewis, for lack of a more sophisticated term, was mean. Not evil. Not bad. Mean. She had tried being nice and cordial early in her legal career, but the effort made her feel weak, and she found that her male counterparts did not take her seriously. Worst of all, she had lost cases she should have won and pled matters that should have gone to trial. When she thought of those days, it was hard not to be sick to her stomach.

“Docket sheet,” Helen said, her voice sharp and clipped.