It’s odd returning to the DA’s office. I knew it would be, of course, but I’m surprised at the power of the emotions that confront me. I feel shame in reentering the only office in which I’ve ever worked. Shame and heartache.

On the weekend, a skeletal security force works downstairs. Still, I know them all. Coming in on a Sunday was more the rule than the exception during my career. But none of them makes eye contact with me.

I’m surprised when Leon, who is manning security today, tells us to go to the sixth floor. I had assumed that Ella took either my office—previously her office—or Lauren’s, both of which are on the seventh floor.

“You okay?” LeMarcus asks as we take the elevator up.

“Just great,” I tell him.

Ella is waiting in the corridor as the doors open. You have to do that to escort your visitors past the first set of locked doors.

The ground rules we established are that everything said today is off the record. Nonetheless, LeMarcus told me that I’m not to say anything unless he gives the okay.

We follow Ella down the hallway, not passing another person. The office lights are all off. It’s so quiet that I assume we’re the only people on the floor.

The room Ella directs us into has a temporary feel to it. There’s nothing on the walls, no photographs or mementos on the desk. In fact, it looks almost vacant. Whenever I was preparing for trial, my office resembled a crime scene, like it had been ransacked to the nth degree.

Gabriel Velasquez is sitting on a sofa. Beside him is the young woman who is second-seating Ella at trial. I still have never heard her voice. The notepad in her lap tells me that she won’t say anything today either. Her purpose is to transcribe what I say, which gives the lie to the idea that anything in a murder trial can ever truly be off the record.

There’s a small, round conference table in the corner of the office. Nothing is on it. I imagine that this is the first time Ella has ever used it. She motions for us to assemble the adjacent chairs. She hasn’t offered us water or coffee—a sign that she expects this to be a short visit.

Gabriel joins us at the table, but the other woman stays put on the sofa. There are only chairs enough for the four of us.

“Let me get right to why I wanted to meet,” Ella says, speaking directly to LeMarcus as if I’m not even there. “We have reason to suspect that Dana’s husband was involved in Lauren Wright’s murder. We’re not certain whether he acted alone or in concert with his wife, but we’re willing to give Ms. Goodwin the opportunity to explain the situation to us.”