At first, I’m just scrolling through the usual junk—pictures of him at conferences and seminars, links to papers he’s written and books he’s edited, civic awards and speeches. Then suddenly, I’m reading an obscure political blog linked to Dr. Graham.

We should have listened to Doc Cams. Maddy and her sports-lug spouse have been a nightmare!

Doc Cams? Cameron?

I dig deeper. A lot of these posts are from three or more years back, some from before the election. Now I’m finding posts from Doc Cams himself.

Electing Wright, with her muscle-headed hubby, and the fascist ex-cop VP will be a disaster.

If Wright dies in office, you know who becomes president? Faulkner, that Philly police chief who crapped all over BLM.

Holy Jesus…

More scrolling. More vitriol. Then this:

If you want to get rid of Wright before her second term, go after her jock husband. Easy to weaken her by taking down Cole W.

I close my laptop. What was it Dr. Graham told me?

One group wants very much to stop you. The other wants very much to help you.

Now I know which group Dr. Graham belongs to. Now I understand his motives. But what about his methods? I’m not sure I understand that. This stuff sounds pretty dark.

I give up looking for his personal number and check the Columbia Law School directory.

It’s almost ten. Should I wait until morning? Screw it. I need to know what’s going on.

I call his office, and as I expected, it goes straight to voicemail: “This is Dr. Cameron Graham. Please leave a message.”

No way I can ask him about this Doc Cams thing on a recording. I need to talk to him, preferably in person. So, for now, I just make nice. “Hi, Dr. Graham. It’s Brea Cooke. The courthouse pass is great, so thank you. Need to talk to you when you have a minute. Bye.”

I hang up and turn on the television. I scarf down two slices of pizza while I watch Court TV’s recap of today’s testimony.

Another New Hampshire state trooper testified about finding a grave-size hole on property belonging to Cole Wright on Lake Marie. The prosecution tried to suggest that Wright was attempting to get the bones buried there to hide them away. But Tess Hardy got the trooper to admit that the property wasn’t secure and that anybody could have dug that hole.

The next person on the stand was a woman named Stacey Millett. She’d worked at Gillette Stadium during the time Cole and Suzanne had dated and confirmed it was an open secret that they were together. Everybody there also knew about Cole’s temper, she claimed, backing it up with a memory of hearing him talking rough to Suzanne after practice one day, saying something like “Suzanne, I’m gonna wring your pretty little neck!”