“Me? I’m just a working-class kid from south Jersey,” Anderson continues. “Dad was an electrician. Mom was a nurse. We didn’t travel in the same circles as the defendant. We barely lived in the same hemisphere. But I was recruited to play football for Harvard, so I met boys like him in college. I considered some of them friends. We studied together, worked out, went to parties. I dated their sisters. All lovely, smart girls who made it clear that while I could certainly buy them dinner, we had no future. I would never visit their homes or meet their families. One girl told her friends I was NQOCD.” He looks at me, the defendant’s sister. “You know that expression? Not quite our class, dear.” As if amused by the memory, Anderson chuckles. “Boys like the defendant are handsome and fun-loving. They’re quick to pick up the tab and order another round. But they’re dangerous. Having grown up with everything, they want for nothing. They have no boundaries or limits. They’re used to everyone, parents, teachers, girls—especially girls—giving them whatever they want. But the penalty for failing to satisfy their whims is incredibly high. What they’re not given, they take.”

Bradley Anderson couldn’t be more transparent. By differentiating himself from Billy, he’s trying to make the jurors take sides. I’m nothing like this guy. In fact, I’m just like you, Juror Number Seven. I’m middle-class. I cheat on my diet. I watch sports on TV. So, if I can judge Billy Quinn, you can too. Go ahead. Judge him. Harshly. But Brad Anderson is lying. Not small white lies either. He’s telling whoppers.

“The defendant suffers from severe emotional problems.” (Lie.) “Early on, these problems were manifested in a childhood stutter.” (Lie.) “Now, he is plagued by unhealthy addictions, and an inability to have intimate relationships. Particularly those of a sexual nature.” (Lie.) “In grade school, the defendant’s volatile behavior disrupted the classroom. He was held back, which made him older and bigger than his classmates. He used his size as a weapon, bullying the other students until he was shipped off to boarding school.” (All lies.) “Over the years, the defendant became a lonely misfit, always on the outside looking in. He was easily angered and quick to hurt others. For a brief period, organized athletics offered an outlet. But in college, he was kicked off the track team. Why? Because he acted out in fits of rage and unpredictable physical violence. The same way he did when he was five years old.”

Lies, lies, lies.