Gideon took pride in having been through the system before, and he warned Gavin about going to his bail hearing without an attorney. “It’s not fair,” he said. “They have lawyers talking about why you need to stay in jail, and you ain’t got nobody to talk for you. And once your bail’s set, it’s near impossible to get it changed.”

But for Gavin, choosing an attorney was the cornerstone of his plan. It had to be a certain type of attorney. Gavin had the resources to hire the best in the Twin Cities, but he didn’t need the best. He didn’t even need competent. What he needed was an attorney who would take orders, one willing to bend a rule here or there. It would take some time to find the right man—and it would be a man. Gavin’s mother had long ago shown him to never trust a woman.

Around ten-thirty that morning, a jailer came to his cell and handed Gavin some papers. “Be ready for court in ten minutes.”

The first document was a complaint, charging him with various levels of attempted murder, criminal sexual assault, and kidnapping—eight counts in all. If they thought this might ruin his day, they were wrong. He needed the charges to be heavy for the next phase of the plan. The second document was a bail study recommending that Gavin be held without bail. That too was part of the plan.

He rolled the papers into a scroll and made his way to the pod entrance, waiting there while the jailer gathered five others. After being cuffed at the wrist and shackled around the ankles, the six men, wearing orange jumpsuits, orange socks, and orange sandals, marched through the underground tunnel that led to the Government Center. On the third floor, they were ushered into a courtroom through a special side entrance and told to sit in the jury box, where they would await their respective hearings.

Gavin had never been in a courtroom before, although he had imagined it—planned for it—a thousand times. He looked around at the laminate tables, the gray carpeting, and the cheap ceiling tile, and he felt disappointed. Where was the majesty? Remove the judge’s bench and the gallery pews and the room could just as well be cold storage. It was hardly a venue befitting the intrigue he had planned in the coming days.