the courtroom, Mauriani saw the grim set of Henry Feldt's face.
* * *
'Jesus,' Carlo murmured.
'Yeah.' Terri discarded the last, half-eaten slice of pizza. 'Kim Sen's twenty-seven now. But wherever she is, it's a fair bet she's wearing out some psychologist.'
'How did James respond?'
'Start reading where I put the second clip,' Terri answered, 'and prepare to be amazed.'
* * *
James paused to dab at his nose. 'From your verdict,' he told the jury, 'you've cleared the legal hurdle called reasonable doubt. But that does not mean there is no doubt—with no witnesses to the death, there must be at least some lingering doubt.' Theatrically, James flung his arms open wide. 'In the presence of doubt, why condemn these men to death?
'They will die in prison, ladies and gentlemen, a threat to no one. You do not need to accelerate their demise.'
In disbelief, Mauriani glanced at Henry Feldt. Frowning, Feldt had turned from James to his clients, studying them with the same lack of sympathy they had shown throughout the trial for Thuy Sen.
* * *
At the close of James's argument, Mauriani stood at once. 'Your Honor, I ask the Court to meet in chambers with prosecution and defense counsel.'
The keenness of Rotelli's glance confirmed his instant comprehension. 'Very well,' he said and motioned his courtroom deputy to open the door to his chambers.
They gathered inside, Mauriani and James seated in front of Angelo Rotelli's walnut desk, the court reporter set up to the side, surrounded by the trappings of a trial judge—tomes on evidence, treatises on trial practice, bound jury instructions, and green leather chairs suitable to the inner sanctum of a men's club.
Rotelli steepled his hands. 'Mr. Mauriani?'
'The defense has concluded its argument for mitigation,' the prosecutor began. 'By my calculation, in eleven minutes. Mr. James has called no witnesses, or attempted to introduce any mitigating factors—for example, regarding the defendants' background.' Pausing, Mauriani added pointedly, 'On behalf of either client.
'In light of this, I believe it's appropriate for the Court to inquire as to the nature of counsel's preparations for the sentencing phase, and the options he considered on behalf of Rennell and Payton Price—as individuals. Including his investigation with respect to their personal histories.'
James drew himself up. 'Your Honor,' he said in a defensive tone, 'I can assure you that defense counsel has been nothing less than diligent. Mr. Mauriani is seeking privileged information—an unwarranted peek beneath the veil of my strategy. At whatever prejudice to both of my clients.'
Turning to Mauriani, the judge raised his eyebrows. James's implication was clear—that any material he had uncovered was so damning it would grease the skids toward execution. That it was also, Mauriani suspected, a cover for James's sloth could not be helped. Mauriani had done what he could—raised the issue, and forced James to put his excuses on the record. With luck, Angelo Rotelli had helped him bury a potential claim that the brothers had ineffective assistance of counsel—at least during the sentencing phase.
'Thank you, Your Honor,' Mauriani said solemnly.
* * *
Rising in rebuttal, Mauriani walked toward the jury box. 'Defense counsel,' he began with quiet scorn, 'has argued that there is 'lingering doubt.' What about this case would leave you any doubt—about who killed Thuy Sen, or about the agony of this child's last moments of life, asphyxiated by an act no child should ever know about?'
For the first time, Henry Feldt nodded. 'There is only one question,' Mauriani told him. 'What penalty does justice to Thuy Sen and her family?
'That penalty is death.'
With this, Mauriani sat, a minute after he had risen.
* * *
Alone, Terri reviewed the last few pages; Carlo had skipped out for a quick cup of coffee with a new woman in his life, a medical student, almost as busy as he.
The judge, Terri found, had given the jury clear instructions on the option of life without parole. But in Terri's experience, few jurors believed that this alternative was real, and these jurors had probably despised the brothers as deeply as they sorrowed for the Sens.
In less than an hour their foreman, Henry Feldt, announced the verdict: death for both defendants.
* * *
The final decision was Rotelli's.
He could confirm the penalty of death or impose life without parole. In the courtroom, Mauriani watched as Rotelli, in his first capital murder trial as a judge, gravely began fulfilling a new role in a familiar play. Rotelli had become a judge by prosecuting high-profile murder cases; the question was whether he could enter a death sentence as readily as he once had sought it.
The courtroom was still: the Price brothers, James, the Sen family, and Eula Price were united in their sobriety by this final, fateful moment. With great deliberation, Rotelli began reciting the factors before him—the odious nature of the crime, the youth and innocence of the victim, the lack of remorse shown by the defendants, and their effort to cause the murder of the principal witness against them. Then he turned to the defendants. 'The defense,' Rotelli told them in somber tones, 'has introduced no mitigating factors, and this Court is aware of none.'
