Luz keeps her gaze trained on Dars. “Yes.”
“Alright.” Dars settles back once again into his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. “If Ms. Rosenberg bets right, all glory to her. She gets to humiliate the government, she gets her picture in the paper.” He nods at the rows of reporters, scribbling furiously. “Ms. Rosenberg likes that, as I’m sure you know. But if she bets wrong, you will go to prison for the rest of your life. Under the law, there is nothing I can do about that, even if I wanted to. Because the penalty for first-degree murder in federal court is life in prison and we have abolished parole. What that means is that you will never get out. You will never hold your baby outside a prison visiting room. And Ms. Rosenberg, well, she’ll go home to her baby. Her life, it won’t change much at all. Do you understand?”
Abby’s ears ring like there is a fire alarm going off in her head.
Luz says, “But if the jury finds me not guilty, I go home to my daughter and no one can take her away from me.”
Dars turns his gaze to Abby. “It appears that your client grasps what is at stake here. Is there anything you would like to say before I rule?”
Abby looks at Dars, then at Luz. “Your Honor, I need a moment to consult with my client.”
Dars inclines his head.
Still holding hands, Abby and Luz walk a few steps from the lectern out of earshot of the microphone.
“Lean in as close as you can.” Abby is watching the gallery, hundreds of stares fastened on them. Luz does as she’s asked, her forehead touching Abby’s so they are eye to eye and the world narrows to the two of them. Abby takes a breath. “Luz, listen to me, I leaked right through my blouse the minute the judge told me I might be separated from my baby. And that would only be for a few days. We are talking about the rest of your life. You know Mr. Estrada and I have made arrangements—”
Luz shakes her head. “Travis’s mother could still—”
“But it would be harder. We are creating a legal barrier.”
“No.” Luz’s gaze is cold and steady. “Not one day. I will not be separated from Cristina for one day.”
“You are making a terrible mistake.”
“The judge said you were a gambler.”
“He’s wrong. If I were in your situation I would never, ever do this.”
Luz looks at her for a long moment. “You wouldn’t be in my situation.” She lets go of Abby’s hand. “This is my decision.”
Back at the lectern, Dars again asks Abby if there is anything else she would like to say. Abby looks back at him for a long, shimmering moment. “No.”
A silence falls. Abby focuses on keeping her breathing under control. Beside her, Luz is utterly still, her eyes on the judge. Dars’s gaze sweeps the courtroom, taking in the journalists, Travis’s mother and sisters, the rows of spectators, Shauna, Will, and Abby before finally coming to rest on Luz. Everyone is silent, waiting.
“The court finds that the defendant understands the strategic legal decision made by her attorney and is in agreement with that decision. The government’s request that the jury be instructed on any charge less than the charge of first-degree murder is denied. The court will take a twenty-minute recess before the reading of instructions and closing argument. We are adjourned.”
Friday, March 23, 2007
2:00 p.m.
United States District Court
for the Central District of California
It is the stuff of nightmares. The final exam administered without warning or any time to prepare. Except here a failing grade is a life sentence.
Abby has always excelled by putting her nose to the grindstone, outworking everyone else. She turned in her papers early, found herself with spare time on tests, sought out every extra credit. Never once had she left anything to chance. It was that relentless preparedness that had gotten her into UCLA, then Harvard Law School.
She is wholly unprepared to give this closing argument. All along, it had been Will’s job. Abby had listened, offered comments, but never done the work of learning it. Hearing Shauna’s seamlessly interwoven story of law and fact had been terrifying. There is enough evidence, more than enough. Emails from Jackie, calls to Estrada, changes to the life insurance policy. The incident where Luz had wielded a knife just a few short years ago. Her chilling switch in demeanor on the witness stand.
In the end, that argument had hit hardest. “The defendant was a completely different person when it was my turn to ask her questions,” Shauna reminded them. “It wasn’t just that she was rude and inappropriate. That’s a problem, for sure, but it wasn’t the problem.” Shauna took a beat here to look each juror meaningfully in the eye. “The problem was that she lied to you. Over and over and over again. And she was mean. I submit to you that the person you saw in those moments was the real Luz Rivera Hollis, a cold-blooded killer who will stop at nothing to get what she thinks she’s entitled to. All on her own, she drove a knife through her husband’s skin and bone to tear open his heart. She’s guilty and she knows it.” Shauna had leaned in, her hands on the jury rail. “She said it herself. Mi culpa. My fault.” She paused, letting the words sink in.
Facing the jurors now, Abby is focused on all the wrong things. The chill of her still-clammy skin. The wasting of the short time she’d had to prepare. In the bathroom stall, she’d removed her soaked nursing bra, wrung it out, patted herself down with paper towels, and blotted the stains on her blouse as best she could. Then she’d sat on the toilet shaking uncontrollably, her arms wrapped around her body, her teeth chattering. Finally, she had stood, put the wet
