DeFiore bites into one side of a sandwich. Pastrami, tomatoes, and mustard leak out the other. He grabs a napkin, wipes his chin. “In the legal profession, truth is a malleable commodity. It can be molded, like clay, to mean what you want.”

“But then nothing means anything,” Eleanor says.

“He’s telling a story, Mrs. Quinn. We are too. The jury gets to decide which one is more plausible—and, in this case, more palatable. Anderson is a good lawyer. He knows which truths can be stretched. Witnesses, however, are under oath. Committing perjury is a crime. Don’t get me wrong, witnesses lie all the time, but we take everything at face value—unless it works to our advantage not to.”

“You still plan to put Billy on the stand, right?” Nate asks.

“I would like to, Nate, but only if I feel confident that he’s prepared. If not, Anderson will gut him. It only takes one stumble.” He and Nate glance at Billy, who is hunched over his food, headphones on, orbiting through space.

“We’ll get him ready,” Eleanor says, also looking. “Whatever it takes.”

“I knew this would happen,” Lawrence mutters. “I knew we’d end up here.”

“Lar,” DeFiore says evenly. “We haven’t ‘ended up’ anywhere. We’re still at opening arguments. You need to pace yourself, my friend. This is a marathon, not a sprint.”

Nate is preoccupied. “The jury needs to hear from Billy, especially if Diana’s testimony confirms all the bullshit Anderson is telling them.”

“This is what I meant, Nate, about witnesses being under oath.” DeFiore tries to explain. “Diana can’t just say whatever she wants. Anderson will coach her, sure. But she can’t make claims that are blatantly false—like she and Billy had no prior relationship, or that she was sober at the party. Right now, she’s protected by rape shield laws. We can’t talk about her drinking habits or prior boyfriends, anything like that. But if she makes a false statement, the shield laws change, and she opens the door to these discussions. That’s why, if you listen carefully to Anderson, you’ll hear very few facts. It’s all conjecture and pseudo-psychology. He doesn’t want his witnesses to say something we can prove false. Instead, he’s relying on made-up theories and big ideas, most of which are bluster. Happens all the time. The less evidence, the bigger the performance.”

Nate and Eleanor look skeptical.

“Sit tight. Our turn will come.” He addresses the room. “Anything else?”

“It’s such a cliché,” I blurt out.

“What’s a cliché?” DeFiore asks.

“The bullshit the DA is selling. Young man has problems. Problems lead to rejection, rejection leads to anger, anger leads to assault. This can’t be Anderson’s whole argument.”