I know these numbers are bogus. Statistics can be skewed up, down, and sideways. They cast no light on Billy’s guilt. And yet, the audience is buying it. Fordyce’s voice is melodious, his affect persuasive. His material is provocative, and he’s meting it out in bite-sized bits that leave us craving more. “Porn contains disturbing messages, overt and subliminal. Kids—I’ll say ‘boys’ because, statistically, the population skews male—are repeatedly shown, for instance, that no doesn’t mean no. Instead, by pushing, trickery, or physical violence, women can be persuaded, or forced, to perform desired sex acts.”

Here, Anderson makes a brilliant move. He invites Fordyce to step down, and then returns to the rape so he can illustrate, in cold hard facts, the connection between porn and violence. He recalls, at a rapid-fire clip, the eyewitnesses, detectives, EMTs, and hospital personnel who saw Billy at the crime scene or examined Diana right after. One by one, the witnesses testify that the defendant was out of control, that Diana was unconscious, and that Billy knew this but penetrated her anyway. The Glasgow coma score—13 out of 15—is raised no less than seven times. Pictures from the physical exam—bruises, lacerations, swelling—are admitted into evidence and published to the jury. One of the boys who helped tackle Billy asserts that my brother, who was looking into Diana’s eyes while he was on top of her, seemed aware of her condition. During his cross, DeFiore forces the kid to admit that the playground was dark, and he has no idea what he saw, but it’s not enough to mitigate the damage.

Anderson turns to the judge. “Permission to show one final photograph, Your Honor.”

When DeFiore sees what it is, he strenuously objects. But he’s overruled, the picture is entered into evidence, and then passed around the jury.

“My God,” a woman says.

Anderson holds up a poster-sized replica and sets it on an easel.

“Jesus,” Nate murmurs.

“Shush!” Lawrence hisses, though he, too, stiffens.

In the photo, Diana is asleep in the grass. Her clothes are torn off. Her hair is matted with leaves, pebbles, and pieces of dirt. There are bruises on her legs, and scratches on her face. Her skin is pale white against a tangle of dark hair. She is fragile and alone. A young girl, someone’s child, beaten to shit.

44

WE TAKE AN HOUR-LONG BREAK. IN THE CONFERENCE ROOM, the five of us are subdued. No one mentions the photograph. Instead, we study our phones. Back in court, the DA recalls Dr. Helmsley Fordyce to the stand. As the doctor sits down, the room is quiet. A new understanding has passed among the gallery. The stakes have been recalibrated. These are critical issues. Matters of life and death.

When the DA speaks, his tone is respectful. “Doctor, you said earlier that watching pornography can have a disastrous effect on a developing brain. Can you elaborate?”