If I'm Dead

It rankled to let go, and I badly wanted to wipe the supercilious smile off O’Bryan’s face, but I knew Bailey was right. If we started scrambling and making desperate moves now, it would only taint all the good evidence we’d presented.

“Ms. Knight, any redirect for Mr. Ivins?” the judge asked. I thought I heard a note of sympathy in his voice, but I could have been wrong.

“No, thank you, Your Honor. No redirect.” I stood, put on my game face, and said in as strong a voice as possible, “The prosecution rests.”

“Defense?” the judge said to O’Bryan.

“Your Honor, the defense chooses to rest on the state of the evidence. We believe the People have failed to make their case—”

“You can tell the jury what you believe in closing argument, Counsel,” the judge said, deliberately cutting off the grandstanding. “For now, I take it you don’t intend to present any additional evidence?”

“That is correct, Your Honor.”

“Then, seeing as it’s the noon hour, we’ll take our lunch break and commence with closing arguments at one thirty.”

After the jury filed out, the defendant gave O’Bryan a victory clap on the back. Feeling my eyes on him, Hildegarde shot me a sneering, triumphant grin. I wanted to yank Bailey’s gun out of her shoulder holster and blast the grin off his face.

Bailey saw my expression. “The only thing that’d make his getting off worse is for you to wind up in custody. Let it go, Rachel.”

Having no other choice, I did. Bailey and I picked up what was left of the sandwiches at the snack bar. She scored a ham and cheese; I wound up with some rolled-and-pressed mystery meat. We took our “lunch” up to my office and ate in silence. Neither of us was in the mood to chat. As I stuffed the remainder of my sandwich into its wrapper and pitched it into the wastebasket, I heard the ki-koo of Toni’s heels clicking down the hall toward my office.

She stopped in my doorway. “Hey, where’s the funeral?”

“Right here, soon as I finish closing arguments and get a five-minute ‘not guilty.’ ”

“That bad?”

Bailey gave her a dark look. “Yeah.”

“Man, that’s a bitch. You guys put together a hell of a case. What happened?”

We told her. Then I noticed the clock on the Times Building. “We’ve gotta jump. Meet us for sympathy drinks?”

Toni nodded. “Your place?”

My place being the Biltmore Hotel, where I got to live full-time thanks to a case I’d won involving the murder of the CEO’s wife. I stood up and started to gather my legal pads and exhibit sheets.

“Hold on,” Toni said. “I’ll be right back.” She hurried out.

Twenty seconds later, Toni was back. She pressed a small plastic object into my hand. I looked down at it, puzzled.

“It’s my juju,” Toni said.

“It’s a friggin’ troll doll, Tone.”

“Just keep it close—”

I started to argue, but she grabbed my chin and got nose-to-nose.

“Do not argue with me about this, Knight. What can it hurt?”

I sighed and dropped the little thing into the pocket of my blazer. What the heck—who was I to argue at a time like this? I needed all the help I could get.

I tried to put a spring in my step as I entered the courtroom. Never let ’em see you sweat.

“Ready, Counsel?” the judge asked.

We both said yes.

“Let’s have the jury.”

The jury took their seats, and I stood up. For the next hour, I did my best to sound persuasive, convincing, and confident. But when O’Bryan stood up, the jury leaned forward, all ears. Short of their handing in the “not guilty” verdict right then and there, it couldn’t get much worse. He made the predictable argument that we’d utterly failed to prove Melissa was dead, that she had every reason to want to frame Saul Hildegarde for murder, that the jury had no choice but to return a verdict of “not guilty.” And then he made his grandstand move.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I say that you must have a reasonable doubt, because I listened to the evidence here in this courtroom just like you did. And I cannot say that I believe beyond a reasonable doubt that Melissa is even dead, let alone that my client killed her. And neither can you. Because for all you know, Melissa could be walking into this courtroom at this very moment!”

With that, O’Bryan turned, thrust out his arm, and pointed to the door. And at that very moment a woman just “happened” to be entering the courtroom. Of course, the woman wasn’t Melissa, and there was not a doubt in my mind that O’Bryan had orchestrated it, but I knew that didn’t matter. He had made his point, and now he capitalized on it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, when I turned and pointed to that door, I saw all of you look. In fact, everyone in this courtroom looked—including Madame Prosecutor.”

Ronnie turned to face me for a moment, enjoying his moment of triumph.

“And that proves you are not convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that Melissa is dead. Therefore you must return a verdict of ‘not guilty.’ ”

The judge looked at me. “Ms. Knight. Rebuttal?”

I sat still for a moment and let the silence linger. My heart was pounding. I knew that what I was about to do was dicey on many levels. But given the circumstances, I had nothing to lose. I moved to the edge of counsel table and faced the jury with a little smile.

“That was quite a dramatic moment, wasn’t it?”

A few hesitant nods.

“But Mr. O’Bryan didn’t get it quite right. He said that when he pointed to that door, everyone in this courtroom turned to look, including me. But he was mistaken. You see, I did turn, but I wasn’t looking at the door.” I came to a full stop and looked each of the jurors in the eye before continuing. “I was looking at the defendant.”

I turned toward the defense table. Saul Hildegarde was frowning and shifting nervously in his seat. O’Bryan, his forehead wrinkled in confusion, was trying to figure out where I was going. I knew I had only seconds to make my move. Because whether he’d figured it out or not, in two more seconds, O’Bryan would object and take me to sidebar, if only to derail me. And if that happened, it would likely ruin my one last shot. I quickly turned back to the jury.

“And so when Mr. O’Bryan pointed to the door, and you all turned to look, I saw that there was one person in this courtroom who didn’t look.” I swung my arm out and pointed at the defense table. “Him. Saul Hildegarde, the defendant. Do you know why? Because Saul Hildegarde didn’t have to look. He knew Melissa would never walk through that door. He knew that beyond all possible doubt because he killed her.”

One hour later, the jury returned with the verdict: guilty. Murder in the first degree.

The judge ordered the defendant remanded into custody forthwith. And Bailey and I had the unmitigated pleasure of watching the bailiff ratchet the handcuffs tightly around the wrists of a stricken, white-faced Saul Hildegarde and lead him out of the courtroom.

Marcia Clark introduced Rachel Knight, the brilliant and tenacious Los Angeles DA, in Guilt by Association

Following is an excerpt from the novel’s opening pages.

Prologue