a bag of trash. However, this strong young man is still alive, despite the attack from his partner of four years. After leaving his husband lying on the floor, bleeding out from thirty-three stab wounds and a collapsed lung, unable to move, unable to call for help for three agonizing hours, the defendant comes home from a party, turns on the lights, and realizes he has to finish what he started. Rather than call 9-1-1 immediately, he chooses to take matters into his own hands. He administers what he calls CPR, but in actuality was the continuation of a truly maniacal torture that ended in pounding on his husband’s chest, over and over, over and over. Finally, it was done. He calls 9-1-1. Arguably, his affect is one of acting. He is replaying a scene from a play he was in months before. That would be a horrible scenario, ladies and gentlemen, would it not?”

Some of them nod in agreement. Astrid walks in front of the jury, her voice widening to fill the entire room.

“Now, as promised, the defense tried to distract you with corrupt corporations and even his own friend of many years, Jenna, whom he threw under the bus to protect his client. And then there was this Ghost character. In a wheelchair. Did anyone stop to think how a man who is in a wheelchair could have allegedly attacked friends of Lennox, according to Jenna’s testimony describing the alleged contents of the alleged letter, allegedly linking Ghost to the murder? Now, moves like these reek of desperation. And make no mistake, the defense was desperate. Mr. Connelly tried to tarnish the reputation of an esteemed detective by suggesting he did not do his job, and Mr. Connelly also tried to discredit decades of blood spatter analysis techniques, simply to try—and the key word here is try—to plant a reasonable doubt in your mind.”

Astrid is almost back at her table. She turns around.

“Oh, Micah Breuer killed his husband. There’s no doubt about that. The evidence is indisputable and overwhelming. And let’s not forget the motives: the jealousy over the affair with Josh Harrison and the one-point-five-million-dollar insurance policy and seven-million–dollar condo he stands to gain if you acquit him.

“Lennox Holcomb was a young man. He was a good man. He was giving back to his recovery community, making living amends with his husband after a brief affair, and being a loving and caring friend and son. He didn’t deserve to be tortured, left for dead, and brutally murdered. I ask that you find the defendant, Micah James Breuer, guilty on all counts so we can keep this diabolical and sadistic man from ever doing this again.”

Sitting in the back of the courtroom, Elaine Holcomb has been grabbing her husband’s hand while listening to Astrid’s closing arguments. The grip becomes so strong that Wallace tries to remove his hand.

“Sorry,” Elaine whispers, removing her hand from his.

Wallace then places his hand on top of hers. “It’s okay, sweetie.”

“Counselor?” Judge Wilson motions for Shawn to begin.

“Thank you, your Honor,” Shawn replies.

He stands up, buttons the top button of his suit jacket, and begins his closing argument.

“This case should have never come to trial. The prosecutor knows it. We know it. And the real killer who is still out there definitely knows it.

“There’s no murder weapon. There’s no motive. There’s no indisputable evidence. There’s no real confession. But you know what there is? A multitude of suspects and angles that the prosecutor and police never fully explored. Why? Because they were getting pressure from the mother of the victim’s son. That’s right. Elaine Holcomb, Lennox Holcomb’s own mother, who used to have that job right there.”

He points to Astrid, who does not give him the satisfaction of looking back at him. Shawn grabs his remote and turns on the monitors. He reveals his first slide, a close-up of the heroin bag sticker with the ghost emblem.

“That’s why they ignored the half-used heroin that was found in the victim’s possession.”

His next three bullet points begin to pop onto the same PowerPoint slide, the first bullet point above the ghost logo, the second one to the bottom left, the third one to the bottom right.

“That’s why they ignored the drug dealer’s past of violence, threats toward the victim, and the possible poisoning of one of the victim’s sponsees.”

Red arrows appear connecting the three bullet points, encasing the ghost logo in a triangle.

From the audience, Jenna squints. Her eyes widen. She pulls out her phone and does a quick Internet search for “European intersection signs.” Up pops a photo of a red triangle encasing a pointy silhouette of what looks like a skinny house, with a thick line through it.

“That’s why they ignored the corruption of a corporation that was using Lennox for God-knows-what.” Shawn clicks through the slides one by one. “That’s why they ignored the motion-sensor camera hidden in a carved box in the victim’s living room.”

Jenna looks up from her phone and is about to wave her hand to get Shawn’s attention, but is distracted by her own face on the screen.

“They even ignored the jilted employee living right across the street,” Shawn says, “whose Wi-Fi access is available from the victim’s home. Is this all coincidence? I mean, that’s a lot of coincidence, don’t you think?

Jenna puts down her half-raised hand, turns off her screen, and rests the phone in her lap.

“Desperation, plain and simple,” Shawn says. “The prosecution needed a win, to uphold some sort of high esteem of the office, to prove a new reputation with a new regime. Something.”

He remains perfectly still. He does not walk the floor. He stays standing in front of his table, facing the jury.

“There is no murder weapon. None. It was from the same type of knife set that was found at Micah and Lennox’s apartment, but that set was complete, tested, and found clean.

“There is no motive. Micah has a jealous streak. So what? So do I sometimes. So do many of

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