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The Dead Woman's Verdict

The Dead Woman's Verdict

By:  Perfect TimingCompleted
Language: English
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My grandmother is, as far as the law is concerned, a dead woman. She faked her own death so she could go off with the boy she'd grown up beside, and she left evidence behind that made my grandfather her killer. He went away for twenty years. She sold his house and ran to Port Halcyon with the other man. One of them became a famous attorney who talks about justice in courtrooms. The other became a philanthropist who talks about compassion under television lights. My grandfather carried the word wife-killer for the rest of his life. My father grew up on whatever the neighbors could spare. He never spent a day in school, and he wore his hands raw laying brick until he'd put me through college. Two generations, two pairs of ruined hands, lifting me one step at a time out of Pinebarrow. Fifty years after my grandmother's fake death. I sit on the felony bench of the Dunstone Superior Court. In front of me are five young women charged in a murder. The case against the first four is airtight. Against the fifth, there's half a fingerprint at the scene and a witness who accounts for her entire night. Even the police call her the least likely of them. The murder charge won't hold. I go through her file. Under family, there's a name. Evelyn Harrow. My grandmother. I look at how much the two of them resemble each other. And when her lawyer moves to have her released from this courtroom a free woman, I bring the gavel down lightly. "This court denies the defense motion for dismissal. This court further recommends that the district attorney formally charge the defendant with murder."

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Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Your Honor, did the court misspeak?"

Defense counsel was on his feet again. "My client has a full alibi, and the district attorney's office has already withdrawn the murder count against her."

I looked up.

My eyes settled on Marina Harrow at the defense table.

She sat slouched and bored, like none of this had anything to do with her.

Her eyes and brows resembled someone.

I'd seen that face in the photograph Grandpa had been touching for fifty years.

I repeated the ruling.

"Having weighed the evidence submitted by both sides, this court denies the defense motion for dismissal."

The gallery erupted.

Nothing in the file put Marina at the scene, and nothing gave her a reason to be there.

Even the district attorney had given up on the count, which made today's release a formality everyone had come to watch.

The ease went out of Marina's face.

She glanced at me.

Contempt came into her voice.

"Guys who claw their way up out of nothing always have something to prove. Mr. Dorsey, my grandmother didn't hire you to sit there breathing."

Alan Dorsey wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"Your Honor, on the evidence as disclosed, my client..."

I cut him off.

"This court has read every page filed by the prosecution and the defense in this matter.

"The motion is denied."

Before I finished speaking, the deputy beside Marina had her wrists back in cuffs.

Her expression changed completely.

Nothing was easy about it now.

She slammed her palm against the glass partition and screamed, "Do you have any idea who my grandmother is?"

I raised my eyes without hurrying.

"This is a courtroom. The evidence decides, and a person who does wrong answers for it."

Through her face I could almost see Evelyn Harrow as she'd looked fifty years ago.

"Your grandmother is no exception to that."

I brought down the gavel.

"Trial will commence in three days on the murder charge against the defendant.

"The district attorney's office will be ready."

Marina's face flushed as the deputies took her out, and she was still arrogant on her way through the door.

"My grandmother is Evelyn Harrow. She's a legend in this state.

"My grandfather is a famous philanthropist.

"You're some small-time judge. You have no idea what the Harrow name means in Port Halcyon."

Of course I knew.

Evelyn Harrow.

A legend of the Dunstone bar, a defense attorney who had never lost.

The name every law student in the state measured themselves against.

In all her years in practice, not one case had gone against her.

She was also a liar.

She'd faked her own death to pin the word wife-killer on Grandpa, and she'd left him wearing it for fifty years.

This one strike of the gavel was something Grandpa had waited far too long to hear.

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