Alkins did not point out that Kelly was sitting in court with her parents’ arms around her, a pale face cocooned by her family’s love. It might have added to the dramatic effect. Rachel saw him hesitate for a fraction of a second as if he was considering it, but he moved on.

“The party hosted by Kelly’s friend Lexi was supposed to have been a small get-together, but word got around on social media, as seems to happen frequently these days. More than sixty people turned up, including college kids and high school seniors. Among the kids who crashed the party were Scott Blair and his friend Harris Wilson.

“Kelly had a couple of beers, as did most of the partygoers. She hadn’t eaten anything that night, which made the effects of the alcohol worse. When she started feeling drunk, she drank a couple of cups of soda to sober up. She didn’t know that someone had spiked the soda bottle with vodka, and thus she inadvertently became very drunk. Not long after, Kelly had an argument with her friend Lexi, apparently over a boy they both liked, and she was locked out of the house and forced to walk home in the dark.

“Kelly is not on trial,” said Alkins. “We’re not here to judge the wisdom of her actions that night. Is it illegal for a girl her age to drink alcohol? Yes. But Kelly has not been charged with underage drinking. Nor have any of the kids at that party. And you are not here to pass judgment on that matter. Was it a poor decision for Kelly to walk home in the dark? Any one of you who has raised teenagers knows they routinely make poor decisions. Does that justify them being hurt, or assaulted, or raped? No, it does not. A person should be able to walk home, even in the dark, even through an isolated field, and arrive home safely.”

Alkins moved into a detailed description of how Scott Blair told Harris to follow Kelly back from the party and keep her distracted at a local playground until he could get there. “Kelly had no idea that she was being set up. That she was walking into a trap.”

Rachel flexed her cramped hand as Alkins paused to let it all sink in. He moved into a vivid description of how Kelly came to be in Scott’s car and their visit to the pizza place.

“Scott Blair offered her a ride home. But instead of driving her home, the defendant took Kelly to an isolated beach where he raped and sexually assaulted her. When he was done, he left her to make her own way home by bus and he fled to his college apartment, where, he later falsely claimed, he’d spent the night.”

The jurors sat transfixed as Alkins wove a narrative so convincing that one of the jurors glared at Scott Blair when Alkins described how he’d left Kelly Moore to make her own way home by bus, slipping her money for a ticket but not bothering to check the schedule to see if there were any buses running. Kelly had to wait for hours at a lone bus stop by the car park next to the deserted beach before a bus arrived. It was out-of-season and the beach was only serviced by two buses a day.

“Scott did everything he could to cover up before and after the crime. He convinced Harris to lure Kelly to the playground so that he wouldn’t be seen with her in advance of the rape. He then abandoned her and drove back to his apartment after he raped her. He even ensured that she washed after the rape in a failed attempt to eradicate forensic evidence of his assault,” said Alkins.

“Scott Blair committed a grave and terrible crime,” he said. “He did it knowingly. He did it violently. And he did it with the arrogance of someone who believed that he could get away with it. He believed that his fame and family connections put him above the law,” said Alkins, taking a step closer to the jury as he wrapped up.

“Scott Blair ignored Kelly’s desperate requests for him to stop having sex with her because he didn’t care what she wanted. It was of zero interest to him. His only concern was what he wanted, which was to satisfy his own carnal desires and to win a sordid and demeaning sex competition,” said Alkins. “He did what he did with a clear head. With planning. With forethought. With full knowledge it was wrong. And most of all, with contempt. Contempt for the law. And contempt for the rights and choices of young Kelly. The evidence will prove this beyond a reasonable doubt. When it does, it will be your duty to convict Scott Blair on all charges.”

23

Rachel

The effect of Alkins’s address was hypnotic. His final words hung in the air as he walked back to his seat slowly and deliberately. For a long moment, the only sound in the courtroom was the tap of his shoes against the stone floor. The electric silence reminded Rachel of the hush in a theater before the audience rises to its feet for a thunderous standing ovation.

Sitting at the defense table, Dale Quinn flicked through the pages of his legal pad with pretend nonchalance while he waited for Judge Shaw’s instructions. Rachel knew that Quinn would come out fighting harder than ever to win the jury back from Alkins.

During the brief pause that followed Alkins’s address, Rachel checked her phone discreetly to see if Pete had made any headway finding Hannah. In the last few days, Hannah had abruptly stopped sending letters. Rachel had asked Pete to check hotels and even car rental places in the greater Neapolis area to locate her. If that didn’t work, then Rachel had decided to do a callout at the end of her podcast. Hannah claimed to be a fan. She’d hear the callout and, Rachel hoped, contact her again.

Rachel turned to a fresh page on her notepad as Judge Shaw invited Quinn to deliver his opening statement. She hoped to have a pretty comprehensive, perhaps even word-perfect transcript of both opening statements on the website by the end of the day. She wanted her audience to feel that they were in court themselves, getting all the relevant information so they could come up with an informed verdict. She wanted them to feel as if they were in the jury box.

Quinn stood abruptly, with what seemed to be nervous clumsiness. He took a sip of water and promptly spilled some on his shirt in full view of the jury.

Rachel, who’d studied Quinn’s playbook in her pretrial research, knew it was a trick he’d learned from a legendary trial lawyer he’d interned with during law school. His mentor’s go-to move was to stumble over something in court, be it a briefcase or a table leg. It didn’t matter what he tripped over so long as he tripped. It immediately broke an invisible barrier with the jurors. They connected to him as a person, and by extension to his client.

Quinn made a show of pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at his water-stained shirt as the jury looked on sympathetically. Judge Shaw, who knew all the tricks of the trade, was less tolerant.

“Mr. Quinn.” The judge’s chair squeaked as he leaned into his microphone. “I believe we’re waiting.”

“Of course, Your Honor,” said Quinn. He gave one final dab to his wet shirt and smiled bashfully at the jury. He seemed young and inept compared to Alkins, even though Rachel was pretty sure they were around the same age.

Rachel admired the way Quinn had turned himself into an underdog. After all, who doesn’t like an underdog? The spell that Alkins had cast over the courtroom was broken by the time Quinn opened his mouth to speak.

“About three months ago, I received a telephone call at my offices in Memphis asking me to defend a young swimmer who I’d never heard of before. I don’t much follow swimming. My wife and I have twin babies at home. When I’m not in court, I’m helping her feed and bathe them. So I didn’t know who Scott Blair was when I received the call. I certainly didn’t know he was a potential Olympian when I heard the uncertain voice of a young man asking if I would take his case,” he said. Rachel raced to keep up with him, her pen tearing across the pages of her notebook.

“Well, I immediately said that I would not take any case outside of Tennessee, even though I am licensed to practice law in North Carolina. By the way, that’s nothing against this fine state. I grew up here and have many fond memories of Neapolis. It’s because I promised Beth when she had the twins that I wouldn’t do any traveling until the girls were older. I like to think that I am a man of my word.

“Scott begged me to hear him out. He told me what happened that night last October, the facts of which are as different as day is from night from the version Mr. Alkins gave you,” he said, his grim tone giving extra weight to his words. “That was when I understood that a real miscarriage of justice was taking place here in Neapolis. It bothered me greatly to hear of this boy’s problems. But I could not take his case. I told him so. I had given a solemn promise to my wife.