Rough Justice (Cainsville 5.5)

Finally, she said, slowly, "I did not intentionally kill my husband."

Gabriel nodded. "Good."

She found a humorless smile. "Because it's easier to represent the innocent, I'm guessing?"

"No, actually, it is not. The stakes are much higher with an innocent client, which makes such cases more difficult. When I said 'good,' I was referring to your change in phrasing. Obviously, you don't need to be reminded that you did pull the trigger, and it seems cruel to do so, but that is exactly the trap you will find yourself in, whether it is with the media or the prosecution. Language matters, and they will be quick to jump on improper wording, and thereby get exactly the reaction I just did, one that does not make you look like an innocent woman."

She flushed. "Okay. I'm sorry."

"No need to be. I was demonstrating a point."

"So, look in the mirror and repeat 'I did kill my husband' fifty times?"

"I think it would be more useful to repeat 'I did accidentally shoot my husband.'"

"I was joking."

"I'm not. You must allow yourself to react to the reality of what has happened without allowing yourself a defensive position. The law is not your enemy here. It is the ally that will permit you to hold your head up and say that a jury of your peers agreed you committed only a tragic error."

She nodded.

"Now, you have already given me one account of that night's events. In light of this new evidence, perhaps you should rethink that account."

Her cheeks flamed again. "I told you the truth."

"Excellent. Then you will get up on the stand, and when presented with evidence that you summoned your husband home, you will simply say, 'I did not.' Ask for a stack of Bibles, too, so that you might swear on it. That helps."

"I know you're mocking me, Mr. Walsh, but that is all I can say. I didn't send those texts the police found on Alan's account."

"Then we need to prove it. Otherwise, swearing on a stack of Bibles is your best hope, and I'll warn you, I've never seen that actually sway a jury. Now, you told me that you had no idea why Alan returned home early that night or burst into the room without warning."

"Yes."

Gabriel lifted a sheet. "11:09 p.m. You text Alan 'Someone's outside the house.'"

She opened her mouth to respond, but he raised a finger and continued. "He replies to you, telling you to call the police. You say that you already did, but they don't have a car in the area, and you think they're ignoring you. You beg him to come home. He agrees. Then, at 11:40, as he's pulling into the drive, you text again, 'Someone's in the house!' He says he's on his way in. One final text 'He's coming into the bedroom!' Which is presumably when your husband threw caution to the wind and raced in to save you and..."

"I never sent those texts."

"Then your cell phone number isn't--"

"It's my number," she said. "But I didn't change it after my purse was stolen with my cell phone in it. Whoever stole it m

ust have sent those texts."

"You believe someone sent those texts from your old phone and they appeared on your new one? That isn't how technology works, Ms. Nansen."

"Then I was hacked."

"Conceivably."

She relaxed in her chair. "Thank you."

"And these messages never appeared on your phone?"

She shook her head.

"Nor on your husband's?"