“What evidence do you have?” LeMarcus asks.

“I’m not going to share that. But this is an opportunity for your client to tell us what she knows.”

In a conspiracy, every member is equally liable. So long as there’s an agreement beforehand, coupled with a single act in furtherance of that conspiracy, even if that act itself is perfectly legal, everyone involved is equally culpable. Getaway driver, shooter, even someone who just makes a phone call—or sends a text—luring the victim to the location of the crime, are all, in the eyes of the law, guilty to the same degree. The reason for this, among other things, is that it relieves the prosecution from having to prove each member’s particular role, which would be next to impossible. All that is required is to show that each participant acted with intent to engage in the conspiracy and committed just one overt act in furtherance thereof, even if that act is perfectly legal.

“Can we have a moment?” LeMarcus asks.

“Of course,” Ella says. “We’ll give you the room.”

“That’s okay. You can stay put. We’ll confer in the hallway.”

LeMarcus rises and motions for me to follow him. When we’re in the corridor alone, my lawyer peers down at me. The consternation in his face makes me feel a bit like a child about to be on the receiving end of a parental lecture.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It’s odd that LeMarcus, who would normally be skeptical if a prosecutor told him that the sun was going to rise tomorrow, has accepted without question Ella Broden’s theory that my husband murdered Lauren Wright. Stranger still that he’s leaped to the conclusion that I’ve long known the truth.

However, in this instance, LeMarcus is right. On both counts. So his question is an apt one.

I could remind him that his very first instruction to me was not to share with him anything he hadn’t expressly asked me, and he never asked me if I knew who killed Lauren. That wasn’t the real reason, of course. Not even close. “It’s complicated,” I say.

“It seems pretty damned simple to me. One of you is going to jail for the rest of your life. Do you want it to be him, or you?”

How many times did I attempt to scare witnesses in exactly this way? A hundred? Five hundred? Probably even more. I’d tell them that if they didn’t cooperate with law enforcement, they were going to go to jail for a very long time, but they held the key to their own freedom, if only they would tell the truth. When that didn’t work, I emphasized that if their own well-being mattered so little to them, they should at least consider the welfare of their children.