Cole grabs Lambert’s arm. “Doug! Stay cool! Let’s not get anybody shot out here.”

The woman steps up and looks directly at Cole.

“What’s this about?” Cole asks.

“Mr. Wright, I’m Detective Sergeant Gagnon, New Hampshire State Police. I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Suzanne Bonanno. This man is Deputy Attorney General Bastinelli, and he will read you your rights.”

“Like hell,” says Lambert.

The agent behind Cole pulls him toward the cars. The reporters are straining at the rope barrier. Cole plants his feet and twists free of the agent. “Stop!” He turns to face Gagnon. “Detective, I don’t know what this is about, but let’s not have a battle out here on the runway.”

“I agree, sir,” says Gagnon. “Bad look for everybody. We don’t need to cuff you, and you can bring your detail. But as of this moment, you’re in our custody.”

“We can delay the reading of the rights until we’re in the vehicle,” says Bastinelli.

Cole cannot believe this is happening. He turns to Lambert. “Call the president, then call Burton Pearce—in that order.”

Lambert nods. He holsters his gun and pulls out his phone.

Cole keeps his face composed for the cameras, but his fists are clenched tight at his sides. He’d thought this nightmare was far behind him.

But now, after seventeen years, it’s back.

PART
THREE

SEPTEMBER

CHAPTER
85

Rockingham County Courthouse, New Hampshire

The rain is falling harder as I reach the courthouse entrance and present my admission pass—one of only sixty available and more precious than a Super Bowl ticket. I have Dr. Graham to thank for that. The pass was delivered to my condo by certified mail, with a note enclosed.

My student should see this trial live and in person.

A Brother

The line moves slowly up to the main entrance of the courthouse. From every direction, I hear whispered conversations:

“He’s totally guilty!”

“He’s an American hero!”

“He’s a government puppet!”

“He’s being railroaded!”

A few more steps and I’m finally out of the drizzle and into a bright corridor. I pass through a metal detector and a bag search station. Then I’m in.

That’s when it really hits me.

All the months of pretrial hearings, motions, and counter-motions are over.

Multiple requests for change of venue denied. One superior court judge recused himself; another was assigned.

I closely followed the many evidentiary hearings and motions to dismiss and the bail hearing that ended in Cole being allowed to wear an ankle monitor while living in the White House instead of having to wait for his trial in a cell like every other murder suspect. At first, I couldn’t believe it. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. Power means privilege.

Now all the preliminary legal bullshit is over.

The jury and alternates have been seated.

Today it begins.