YUKI HAD SPENT THE NIGHT flopping like a beached tuna, and she was still sweating this morning, thinking how first she’d been sandbagged by her fricking boss. And then Valentina Campion had thrown her under an eighteen-wheeler
People bond during trials, Yuki knew that, and strange attachments were made. But Mrs. Campion protecting the defendant? That was crazy! Didn’t she realize that Yuki was on her side? That she was trying to do the right thing by her son
Now the buzz in the courtroom grew as spectators and reporters watched L. Diana Davis take her seat. Davis looked smug, Yuki thinking that her opponent must’ve gotten drunk last night on self-congratulation.
Junie Moon was escorted into the courtroom. Davis stood, sat when her client sat, and immediately after they were both seated, the bailiff called out, “All rise.
There was a muffled whoosh of people standing as the judge limped to the bench. The jury filed in, dropped their bags, settled into their seats. Judge Bendinger spoke to the jury, reminded them of his instructions. Then he asked Yuki if she was ready to give her summation, and she said that she was.
But she wasn’t sure.
She gathered her notes, stood tall in her Jimmy Choos, and walked to the lectern. She put her notes in front of her and blocked out everyone but the jury. She ignored Parisi’s placid bulk, Twilly’s mocking smile, Davis’s hauteur, and the defendant’s pathetic fragility. She even looked past Cindy, who gave her a thumbs-up from the back row.
Yuki stood a poster-sized photo of Michael Campion on the easel, turned it so it faced the jury. She paused to let everyone see the face of the boy who was so beloved that citizens of the world included him in their prayers at night.
Yuki wanted to be sure the jury understood that this trial was about Michael Campion’s death, not the sad story of the prostitute who’d let him die.
Yuki put her hands on the sides of the lectern and began to speak from her heart.
