Remember Dr. Wendy North. She was the expert witness for the prosecution. She’s considered one of the leading forensic sexual assault experts in the country.

Professor Braun contradicted all her findings with a certainty that I found staggering. The Harvard academic who hasn’t been in clinical practice for decades said repeatedly on the stand that there was no indication of sexual assault. Just signs of rough sex. Two clumsy teenagers rolling in the hay. That’s the way that he tried to make it sound.

Professor Braun is a tall man. Six foot two, I’d say, at a guess. He has wiry steel-colored hair. He wears rimless reading glasses and tucks a handkerchief in his jacket pocket. He’s old-school. He talks in a deep baritone that resonates with a godlike authority. This is a man who has no doubts. At least not about his opinions. Sure, the jurors liked Dr. North. But Professor Braun is in a league of his own when it comes to confidence.

The prosecution’s forensic case had been strong, until Braun ripped it apart. I can’t say whether his points had any basis to them. To tell you the truth, at times it sounded to me like doublespeak. But it was doublespeak delivered with an arrogant assurance that would be hard for a jury to dismiss. We may not have seen the last of Professor Braun. He may be recalled to the stand after K testifies, presumably to undermine whatever she says during cross-examination from a forensics point of view.

Regardless, there is no doubt that Braun’s testimony changed the stakes. The defense has thrown a good dose of reasonable doubt on every aspect of the prosecution’s case. Braun’s testimony has severely damaged the prosecution’s forensic evidence. Now more than ever, K needs to return to the stand.

Today in court, Dale Quinn asked Judge Shaw to set a deadline. He said it can’t drag out much longer. Here are his exact words: “Every day that passes without me being able to test the complainant’s evidence through cross-examination hurts my client’s chances of a fair trial. Her unchallenged testimony gets further embedded in the jury’s minds. I believe the defense has been patient, but we need a date. When will she testify?”

Judge Shaw fidgeted with his reading glasses, evidently just as perturbed by the delay. “This is a sexual assault case. I have some latitude to give the complainant time. However,” he said, turning toward Alkins, “the court’s patience in this matter is not endless.”

“She is a young girl going through a very bad time,” said Alkins. “I urge the court to be sympathetic and patient. We are very close.”

Quinn’s chair scraped the floor as he pushed it back and rose to his feet. “I couldn’t be more sympathetic about the complainant’s emotional troubles,” he said. “But it can’t be at the detriment of my client’s rights under the law. Our inability to cross-examine her severely damages my client’s constitutional right to a fair trial. I can cite dozens of cases.”

Judge Shaw leaned forward in his seat and snapped into the microphone, “I am aware of the Constitution, Counselor, and the relevant case law.”

Judge Shaw’s eyes flashed with anger at his being put in such an awkward position. He turned to Alkins and told him in no uncertain terms that he expected K to be in court on Monday, ready to testify. He said the upcoming weekend should give K’s parents and doctors enough time to get her ready for the stand.

Judge Shaw didn’t say what would happen if K wasn’t on the stand on Monday, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. If, by Monday morning, K isn’t in court testifying, then Scott Blair will likely walk free. Whether he can rebuild his reputation and relaunch his champion swimming career is a different matter. But freedom he shall have.

I’ve been watching Mitch Alkins closely throughout this trial. He keeps his cool. He never shows his emotions. But today in court, he looked as if he knew that his case hung by a tenuous thread.

In his only statements to the media, when Scott Blair was first charged, Mitch Alkins said this case was an important step toward showing women that their right to say no is inviolable.

What message will it send if Scott Blair is acquitted? I tried to ask Mitch Alkins that question in the hall outside the courtroom after today’s session. I didn’t get an answer. He pushed past me and headed to his office, where I hear his team is in crisis mode. The case seems to be slipping away from him.

I drove past K’s house today. The blinds were down. There was a big sign on the lawn telling people it was private property and asking them to stay away. It is heartbreaking to think about what K and her family are going through as she decides whether she has the strength to endure a grueling cross-examination by Dale Quinn. Her parents would be well aware of the terrible implications of her decision. Put simply, if K doesn’t take the stand, then the trial is over and Scott Blair wins.

This is Rachel Krall for Guilty or Not Guilty, the podcast that puts you in the jury box.

45

Rachel

Rachel gave her breakfast order to the waitress without looking at the menu. She’d been staying at the hotel long enough to know the options by heart. She drank a mug of coffee while reading the Saturday edition of the Neapolis Gazette, which she’d taken from a newspaper rack in the lobby.

The front page featured an enormous photograph of Scott Blair being hauled out of the Olympic-sized swimming pool on the day that he was arrested. His muscular arms were cuffed behind his back. He wore his stars-and-stripes Speedo and a matching swimming cap. Drops of water ran down his skin.

The headline said: “Blair Trial May End on Monday.” Rachel didn’t have to read the article to know its point. Without Kelly’s testimony, Scott would be free.

“Good morning, Rachel.”

Detective Cooper’s blond stubble looked darker in the atmospheric lighting of the hotel cafe. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with a sports jacket zipped over it. He sat opposite Rachel without asking, just as the waitress arrived with her glass of orange juice and acai bowl.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” said Rachel. “Scott Blair is about to get off. Surely, the entire police department is out looking for evidence to save the day.”

“It only works that way on television. The sex-crimes unit investigated this case for months and they already handed over whatever evidence they could find. The case rests on Kelly Moore.”

“It shouldn’t have to rest on whether a teenage girl will allow herself to be traumatized and humiliated again on the stand,” Rachel argued.

“Unfortunately,” said Detective Cooper softly, “that’s how the system works.” He called over a waitress and gave his order of eggs, over easy, on whole-wheat toast with a coffee.

“Mitch Alkins would like to meet you,” he said when the waitress had gone.

“So he sent you to bring me to him?”

“He knows that on Saturday mornings I’m out early checking my boat, which is docked in the marina right across the road from your hotel. He asked me last night if I’d stop by and see if you’re still interested in talking to him.”

“How does Mitch Alkins know so much about your weekend sailing routine?” Rachel asked, her eyes focused on his as she took another sip of coffee.

“Before this town became a glorified retirement village, it was small enough that just about everyone knew everyone. As it happens, Mitch is also my cousin,” he said. “And he’s a late riser. I’ll check if he’s ready to see you. That is, if you’re okay to meet him?”

Rachel nodded. She’d been wanting to talk to Mitch Alkins for days. She was hardly going to pass up the opportunity.

While Detective Cooper ate his breakfast, Rachel checked her phone for messages from Pete. He texted her to say there were over eight hundred emails in the podcast inbox following the latest episode. If there was any message from Hannah, he’d let her know straightaway, but he warned that it would take time for him to trawl through them all.

Cooper’s phone beeped as the waitress cleared away the dishes. He read the text, looking up at Rachel cryptically.

“Mitch is up early after all,” he said. “He says we should come now. My car is parked across the road at the marina. I’ll drive you there.”

They drove through the light Saturday morning traffic. Detective Cooper’s left elbow rested casually on his open window. His golden hair was tousled by the wind. Rachel could see the shadow of a gun in a shoulder holster inside his gaping jacket.

“I thought Alkins would be at his office,” said Rachel in surprise when she noticed they were driving out of the city limits and into a rural area to the north of Neapolis.

“Didn’t I mention that he’s working from his home?” said Detective Cooper. His voice was strangely contemplative. “It’s not much further.”