Most of the men on the jury appear to be in their forties, whereas the women’s ages are harder to gauge. There are twice as many men. According to Abby, who has studied jurors for thirty years, this is what we want. “Older males will see their younger selves in Billy. They’re tired of defending their behavior. When they were his age, it wasn’t a crime for boys to touch girls, et cetera. Women are less predictable. Some will love Billy and be put off by Diana. Others will identify with Diana and want to crucify Billy. Females are fickle creatures.” Today, Abby is wearing a dark blue Celine shirtdress and tailored jacket. She looks gorgeous. Nate shows her something on his phone, and they both cover their mouths, trying not to laugh.

Judge McKay is giving instructions. “I will not allow phone, laptops, or other devices. Any and all will be confiscated then donated to Legal Aid. Anyone caught posting photos of the jury, courtroom, defendant, or lawyers on social media will be held in contempt of court.”

As if on cue, a phone rings. McKay glances around, pissed. “Whose phone is that?”

It belongs to Bradley Anderson, the bald giant prosecutor. He’s on his feet, fumbling to shut it off. “I apologize, Your Honor.”

“DA Anderson, you understand these rules apply to you as well, right?”

“Yes, Your Honor. It won’t happen again.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the rules of this courtroom are very important. If everyone adheres to the instructions you were given during voir dire, we will get along fine.”

The jury nods. They understand; they will follow the judge’s orders. A few exchange amused glances about Anderson’s faux pas. They have to take this trial seriously; shouldn’t the lawyers do the same?

Diana Holly’s family is here, positioned behind the prosecution, though she’s not with them. Just like at the arraignment, she never has to set foot in the courtroom. She can watch, and even testify, on closed-circuit TV. As the victim, she gets compassionate one-on-one assistance. An advocate from the DA’s office will accompany her through each stage of the proceedings, explain what is happening and why, and escort her (and her family) to a safe space if she feels overwhelmed. My brother, by contrast, is forced to sit here, in this courtroom, all day, every day, and face a public shaming. As the defendant, he has no one to hold his hand or pat his back. Forget justice. He’ll never be innocent, not inside this courtroom or out on the street, not after what Diana has done.

After a series of long interruptions, McKay finally reads the charges against Billy—two counts of rape, one count of attempted rape, and two counts of felony sexual assault, one where the victim was intoxicated, and one where the victim was unconscious of the nature of the act.