Billy scans the gallery. I want to shout, Elmo, Elmo, Elmo; it’s me; it’s Cassie! Beside me, Nate is restless. His calf bounces, and I nudge him to sit still.

Under the bright lights, my little brother seems younger and smaller than the last time I saw him. His hair has grown so long since Christmas that the edges curl against his collar. A sweep of bangs hides his eyes, giving him a fawnlike quality. “Let me see that page again,” McKay says to the DA. He seems oblivious to my brother, who waits politely for instructions. In the jumpsuit, with his unwashed, shaggy hair, Billy looks like a misunderstood bad boy in a teen movie, the rebel with a heart of gold.

“Okay, let’s move on,” McKay says, opening a folder. “William Quinn.”

The presentation from the DA’s office, though short, is harrowing. Fleming does all the talking, and despite her quiet voice, she is curt, brisk, and all business: William Matthew Stockton Quinn was seen forcibly having sexual intercourse with an unconscious woman. William Matthew Stockton Quinn is the son of extremely wealthy parents and has the means to flee. This is reflected in William Matthew Stockton Quinn’s detention scores. The way she keeps repeating William Matthew Stockton Quinn terrifies me.

Billy, meanwhile, is gripping the table, his knuckles white.

“Defense?” the judge says. “Can we hear from you?”

Standing up, DeFiore buttons his jacket over his ridiculous tie. His voice booms with the resonance of a Shakespearean actor. “My client is a Princeton scholar-athlete with a 3.8 GPA. He plans to be a pediatrician. He is a well-liked young man with a lifelong commitment to public service and a loving family who will vouch for him. This is my client’s only brush with the law. He has a prior relationship with his accuser that will bear on, if not mitigate, the DA’s charges. Moreover, it’s highly irregular for the State to request remand for a first-time offender.” DeFiore steps toward the bench. “Your Honor, we respectfully ask that my client be released on his own recognizance.”

When DeFiore finishes, the judge asks Mr. Quinn if he’d like to add anything. Stupidly, I turn to Lawrence, but McKay means Billy, who shakes his head.

“The court needs to hear a verbal answer, Mr. Quinn.”

Nate grabs my hand. We hold our breath. “Not guilty” has hard and soft consonants. For Billy, hard consonants—B, D, V, G, K, C—are the most challenging. He’ll repeat a G several times until he can hitch it to a neighboring vowel and make a full stop: g-g-g-g-guilty. With soft consonants—L, N, S, W—he’ll prolong the sound, pressing down with his tongue until he can release: lllllllove you, C-C-C-Casssssie.

I love you, Elmo. Just say it. Come on, Billy. Not guilty.

“Mr. Quinn?” the judge prompts.

Billy swallows. “Nnnnot, g-guilllltty.”

I exhale, and Nate drops my hand.