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Back When We Were Bright and Beautiful Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Part One
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. Part Two
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. Part Three
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. Epilogue
  68. Author’s Note
  69. Acknowledgments
  70. About the Author
  71. Also by Jillian Medoff
  72. About the Publisher

Immediately, all eyes shift in Billy’s direction. He sits up tall in his seat. He’s taking notes, an earnest student. When the judge finishes, Billy raises his head, acknowledging he heard what was said. Then he looks at the jury, as if to show them he’s not afraid. He’s been wrongly accused, and only wants the truth to come out. Felicia Drake reaches over and pats his arm.

“Your Honor.” Standing up, Anderson lumbers toward the bench. His gigantic size makes his movements feel aggressive. “Last night, we filed an amended witness list. We seek the court’s indulgence in allowing us to do so at this late hour.”

Before DeFiore can object, McKay says, “I will take up this matter at another time. Now, can we please get started?”

Anderson scowls, annoyed, it appears, by the judge’s ruling.

After a lunch break, the afternoon passes slowly. Along with additional instructions for the jury, there are many interruptions, including a boring back-and-forth between the attorneys about the State’s exhibits. At several points, the discussion gets heated; and when Anderson lashes out, McKay reins him back in. The room is filled with tension, and by the time five o’clock arrives, everyone is eager to go.

As the jury leaves, I notice them scrutinizing the red-faced Anderson with disdain. DeFiore has told us it’s foolish to read meaning into anything we see. “Juries are faithless. In the morning, they cheer you on. By the afternoon, you’re a pariah.” Still, Anderson’s demeanor rubs the jurors the wrong way, particularly the men.

This is significant, I can feel it.

39

THE NEXT MORNING, JUDGE MCKAY CALLS ON THE PROSECUTION to present opening remarks. Before he finishes, Anderson is already up on his feet and ready to go. He tries to close his jacket, but the material strains against his girth. A button falls off in his hand. The DA was already as solid as a tank, but in the months since the arraignment, he’s packed on ten, maybe fifteen pounds. While this isn’t much for his frame, like some ex-athletes, he’s added the bulk of the new weight in his gut. Anderson uses this fact to introduce himself.

“Would you believe this suit was too big last April?” He holds up the button for the jury, as if entering it into evidence. “My wife tells me to lay off junk food. She’s right. Trust me, my wife is always right.” Offering a sly grin, he pats his belly. “But I’ll get divorced before I give up burgers and beer.”