It was the first thing she’d said that sounded like it was straight from the heart.

“Well,” Grant said, “we all wanted the same thing. To keep Jeremy out of jail. He didn’t deserve that fate.”

“He certainly didn’t,” Gloria said evenly.

“What about Jeremy’s father?” I asked. “Jack, you said?”

Gloria sipped—maybe gulped would be a better word—her first mouthful from the glass. “We split up three years ago.” She shook her head. “He’s not a tenth the businessman Bob is.” A pause. “Not that that had anything to do with our breaking up.”

“It’s all very complicated,” Bob said. He forced a grin. “Isn’t everything?”

“No kidding,” Gloria said.

“What about during the trial?” I asked. “Was Jack involved?”

“Involved how?” Gloria asked.

I shrugged. “Financially? Moral support?”

“Yeah, right,” Gloria said with another eye roll.

“Maybe if you hadn’t shut him out, he’d have tried harder to be there for Jeremy,” Bob Butler said. He looked at me. “I paid most of Jeremy’s legal costs. Grant Finch doesn’t come cheap.”

Finch tried to look embarrassed, but he couldn’t pull it off.

Bob continued. “Galen helped with Grant’s bill too. He felt something of an obligation. I mean, no offense, Gloria, but there was no way you could have afforded it.”

“No,” she said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” It was hard to hear the gratitude in the comment.

Bob threw up his hands. “Well, anyway, I’m sure you’re not interested in all this background, Mr. Weaver. I’m guessing you’d like to know more about the matter at hand.”

“Tell me about that.”

“Gloria,” he said, “show him your phone.”

She went for her purse, which was hanging on one of the chairs. She rooted around, brought out an iPhone, and started tapping away.

“Okay,” she said, handing the phone to me. “That’s my Facebook page. Look at some of the things people have posted on my timeline. There were a whole bunch more but I deleted them. These have come in since breakfast.”

I looked at the screen. A sampling:

You’re the big baby not your son.

Worst mother in the United States of Amerika.

Kids have to know there is consequences. I feel sorry for your stupid kid having a mother like you. Your own mother must have screwed up big time to make you such an asshole.

And a simple, straightforward expression of opinion: Eat shit.

Gloria, who was standing close enough that she was reading them along with me, pointed to that last one and said quietly, “Let me delete that right now. I don’t want Madeline to see it.”

“Don’t want me to see what?” Ms. Plimpton said, returning from the dining room with a tray of cups and milk and sugar.

“Nothing,” Gloria said. She deleted the comment. “Okay, keep going.”

I read a few more.

Youre kid should dye and so should you.

How do you sleep at night when your son is free but the girl he killed will be dead forever?