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# The Road Map to the Universe

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By Robert Trainor

Copyright 2011

By Robert Trainor

Smashwords Edition

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

## The Final Mirage

### Before the days custom decreed the dusty hereditary queen

### There was an eon when the honor fell on a beautiful maiden

### Who danced down the years with a crown called the seasons

### Back in the yonder years when the knights pledged their hearts

### To a vision of earthly desire under a heaven adorned with stars

### Swirling through the immortal infinities of the galactic universe

### Fast forward to the modern millennium where the dark prophets

### Have resurrected the dust-to-dust despotism of the grim reaper

So phantoms of doom can create obituaries of eternal extinction

### As every trace of our forgotten lives disappears into the setting sun

### Heavy and funereal as it plummets beneath the far horizon of years

Leaving a gloomy twilight to escort our shadows into the underworld

### Meandering past the deserted illusions of another ruined graveyard

### To the enchanted paradise where the empress of love reigns supreme

### Over the vast enigma of a universe that is cloaked in death and shame

### And into the roaming rapture that runs through our beating hearts

### The never-ending quest that lies behind every thought in every mind

### A fantasy where truth is the passageway out of this deceitful land

## CHAPTER ONE: WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO KAREN BREEN?

When Shawn Evans was arrested shortly before midnight on Friday, August 10th, 2007, he was incoherent, belligerent, and covered with vomit. A sobriety test that was administered thirty minutes after he arrived at the police station showed that his blood alcohol level was .34--a "staggering" figure that was slightly more than four times the legal limit for driving. Although Shawn had not been operating a vehicle that night, he would be facing a number of serious charges, including armed robbery, aggravated assault, and attempted murder.

An hour before his arrest, he had walked into a small convenience store, pulled out a knife, and demanded the money in the register. The clerk, a young woman named Angela Ramos, had not reacted quickly enough for his taste, and Shawn had lurched around the counter, grabbed her around the waist with one hand, and placed the knife to her throat with the other. As she fumbled through the register and placed the money on the counter, she heard him say, "It might be better if there were no witnesses." Angela could feel the pressure of the knife against her throat increasing, and in a state of adrenaline-inspired panic, she managed to slither away from him. Shawn, startled, stuffed the money into his pocket and fled from the store.

Angela was bleeding from a small cut on the side of her neck but was otherwise unharmed. She immediately called 911 and told the dispatcher that she had been able to watch Shawn as he disappeared on foot towards the center of town. Fifteen minutes later, he had been found sitting against a light pole in a deserted parking lot as he attempted to count the $340 dollars he had in his possession. The knife he had used during the robbery was never found, but the $340 dollars and the positive identification by Angela were ample evidence of his guilt.

Shawn had an extensive criminal record, but up to this point, it had always involved drugs. His first brush with the law had occurred just before he graduated from high school in May of 2002. It was a relatively minor charge--possession of less than an ounce of marijuana, but in March of 2003, he had been involved in an altercation at a downtown bar, and when he was searched, the investigating officer had found almost an ounce of cocaine on him. Then, in December of 2004, while he was still on probation, the police had received a tip that he was selling tabs of ecstasy at Rubber Soul, a local disco. After serving six months at the county jail, he had celebrated the two-week anniversary of his release by peddling four ounces of cocaine to an undercover detective. This time, he had been sentenced to eighteen months, along with three years of probation.

Lancaster, Michigan, a town of twenty thousand people, is located in the north central part of the state and borders a large natural forest that extends eastward to Lake Huron. There are few violent crimes in the area, and the last murder had occurred in September of 2004 when a suburban housewife, Karen Breen, had been stabbed to death by her husband. By chance, Shawn's case had been handed over to the lead investigator in the Breen murder, Lyle Hawkins, a veteran detective who had been born and raised in Lancaster. He had dealt with Shawn before and was discouraged by his recent turn towards violent crime--Lyle had hoped that this intelligent but wayward kid would settle down and make something out of his life, but this new crime wave of his would mean at least five years in the state prison. Shawn's lawyer would probably be able to plea-bargain the attempted murder charge away, but aggravated assault and armed robbery would not sit well with the prosecutor--not when it came to a man who was on probation and had been convicted of four drug charges.

Lyle had waited until the following Monday morning to interrogate Shawn--at least, by then, he would be sober! After reading him his rights, Lyle said, "Listen to me, Shawn--this time, you're in real trouble. Drugs are bad enough, but threatening a person with a knife is a very serious crime."

"I didn't threaten her, and if she told you that, she's lying."

"But you had a knife with you, didn't you?"

"What does that prove? I just brought the knife with me to show that I was serious--otherwise, she would have just laughed in my face."

"She said you put the knife to her throat."

"That's a lie!"

Lyle wondered if Shawn had been so drunk that he had no memory of what he had done. "What did you need the money for, Shawn? Drugs?"

"No, Lyle--believe it or not, it was my rent money. I'm like Robin Hood--only the money goes to me. And don't tell me that I should find a job because I have better things to do than bag candy bars at the supermarket for people who are on food stamps."

"Shawn, I'm just trying to help you."

"Sure you are. What's next? Some kind of plea deal where I join the military, go to Iraq, and come home in a body bag?"

Lyle was familiar with this tactic of Shawn's--nothing was ever his fault because he lived in a corrupt, materialistic society. "Shawn, after you've been in prison for five years, you'll be crawling the walls."

"Five years? That's totally insane--you're just trying to frighten me. The most I'll get is two years--max."

"Considering your record and the fact you're on probation, you'll be doing a minimum of five years."

There was a long pause in the conversation during which Shawn's attitude seemed to change. Less sarcastic, more focused. "Why are you telling me this, Lyle? What can I do for you that would help me?"

This was the moment that Lyle had been waiting for. "Look, right now, we're investigating a dealer who--"

Shawn laughed contemptuously. "You expect me to become an informant? No way--besides, I don't deal drugs anymore."

Lyle was surprised by Shawn's refusal and annoyed with his insults and lies. He stood up and started to leave the room, but just as he reached the door, Shawn said, "Wait." Lyle turned back towards Shawn, who was looking down at his hands. Slowly, he looked up at Lyle, and in a quiet, calm voice, he said, "What would you do for me if I told you what really happened to Karen Breen?"

## CHAPTER TWO: MEMORIALS

On a warm day in late May of 2005, a little over two years before the arrest of Shawn Evans, Jeremy Breen walked into Lancaster's public library and browsed around aimlessly. Today was one of those days when he would rather take an amnesia pill and blank out so that he wouldn't have to be conscious during the memorial service for his mother, Karen Breen. Selena, his sister, would be totally freaked out; since their mother's body had never been found, Selena had held out a faint hope that she was still alive, but after nine months, nobody with an ounce of common sense could doubt that she had been brutally murdered. The enormous pool of their mother's blood at the murder scene as well as the blood that had been found in the trunk of her husband's--and their father's--car left no doubt as to what had happened. Dana Breen had been arrested within hours of the murder, and the only surprise after that had been his refusal to plea-bargain. However, that could be explained by the fact the prosecutor was only willing to reduce Dana's sentence from life in prison without the possibility of parole to thirty years of actual time. And so, if Dana were to accept the deal, he wouldn't leave prison until he was seventy-three.

Jeremy strolled around the library until he happened to come to a book entitled _A Road Map to the Milky Way_ _._ Maybe, he thought sarcastically, they'll have directions to Mars! As he often did, Jeremy opened the book to the final page and began browsing towards the front. He was flipping through the second appendix when he noticed a statistic that he would never forget: Most astronomers felt that the universe contained at least 200 billion galaxies and that the average size of each galaxy was 200 billion stars. Whoa! Say again...such a massive figure--far greater than the national debt! Jeremy, who had never paid attention to things like stars, had always assumed that the universe contained about ten thousand stars and that the earth was probably the only planet harboring real life. But this 200-billion-times-200-billion fact swept his absurd notion of earthly supremacy away in a gigantic cloud of galactic dust.

Jeremy brought _The_ _Road Map_ over to a table, placed it down in front of him, and stared at it absentmindedly as a number of strange new thoughts swirled through his mind. To begin with, it was obvious that he, Jeremy Breen, was completely insignificant. Somehow, he had always imagined that what he did could affect the great scheme of things. How preposterous was that? His extinction, he realized, would not have an impact on anything. Sure, there would be those who would mourn his passing, but in a year, or even one month, who would be crying over him? And if anyone wanted to argue about that, then the time limit could be moved out to a thousand years when everyone he knew would be long gone into the ominous galactic dust. Christ was an exception to that rule, of course, but that was only because of the stubbornness of the human soul, which couldn't accept the fact that no one made any difference, and so humanity had seized on this antiquated character as proof of immortality. OK, thought Jeremy, let's move the time limit out to one hundred million years. By then, Christ, along with the earth itself, would have disappeared, and according to the _Road Map_ , one hundred million years--in the time span of the universe--was about equal to a millionth of a second in the life of an eighty-year-old person.

And so, regardless of the human attempt to deny the obvious, no one had any significance whatsoever. We were no different than some wayward ant who swaggered into the room and said, "I'm really important." Squish! Humans didn't, objectively, amount to anything--they were so small a part of the picture that it was simply laughable to grant them any importance. The truth was swarming into Jeremy's mind all at once--the revelation of total insignificance. He was nothing but a puny, irrelevant atom that had become obsessed with itself and thought that its life had some meaning.

Depressed, Jeremy left the library and had just reached his car when he was overpowered by another revelation. This one, however, was as exhilarating as the last one had been depressing. Since everything was insignificant, it didn't matter what he did. What difference did it make? In a million years, in a thousand years, in a hundred years, everything would be exactly the same. The galaxies would stroll on with their great wave of annihilation, and no action of Jeremy Breen, or anyone else, would have the slightest effect. Why hadn't any religious figure thought of this before? Probably because they were too busy pumping air into their eternally flat tires.

Jeremy opened the door to his car and sat down inside. First of all, he said to himself, these type of thoughts required the assistance of his favorite prohibited substance. Reaching over, he opened up the glove compartment and brought out one of his huge bomber joints and smoked it up. Then, entranced by the weed and the galaxies, he resumed his contemplations... It must be that people didn't like to face the obvious and accept their insignificance because it seemed like a dangerous theory. With an idea like that running through their heads, people might decide to throw away their responsibilities and do whatever they pleased. That was what his ex-friend Shawn Evans had always preached--ditch the grind and live for today. Forget about the paternalistic commandments of love, honor, and duty.

But maybe the worst thing was that people might start murdering each other if they felt that nothing mattered. But...no...people were already murdering each other, and the reason people murdered others was because they felt that something did matter, that something was important. You stole my money or my wife, and now I'm going to kill you. But what difference did it make if someone stole something from you? So what? The _only_ reason one person would murder another was because he or she thought it was important to do so. If nothing mattered to you, then you would never harm another...

Thirty minutes later, Jeremy met Selena at her apartment. Her roommate was gone, and they had some time to talk before they left for the memorial service. Selena, who had just graduated from college, was twenty-one--three years younger than Jeremy. Although she had majored in business, Jeremy thought that modeling would have been her best career path. Fairly tall, maybe five foot eight, thin--but not too thin--with long straight blond hair and wonderful blue eyes, she was a classic Nordic beauty. No wonder Shawn hadn't been able to get over her. Sometimes, Jeremy thought, it was a lot easier on your psyche if your girlfriend didn't look like the centerfold in _Playboy_. Because, until the day Selena's looks finally faded, her boyfriends would be walking on eggshells. Not, he laughed to himself, that it really mattered--beauty and jealousy were two more examples of those seemingly significant things that didn't amount to anything. What difference did it make if your girlfriend ran off with Mr. Universe? Good riddance--now I'm free to find someone new.

Selena, however, was still operating under the illusion that today's upcoming event, the memorial service for their mother, had some importance. "I loved her so much, Jeremy."

This was exactly the kind of thing that Jeremy had been dreading about this day. Pre-fabricated, socially acceptable nonsense--naturally, it wouldn't be polite for him to say to his sister that she had often complained that their mother was self-righteous and politically backwards with her strange espousal of right-wing causes. Bigoted--to use Selena's word. He would never forget the uproar in the family when Shawn had made Selena pregnant, and she had decided to have an abortion. He had never told Selena why her father had finally given her the money for the procedure--Selena had thought that her father had taken her side, but in actuality, it was because Jeremy had talked to his mother and persuaded her to soften her pro-life stance. At the time, Selena was a senior in high school, and Jeremy knew all too well what kind of person Shawn was. He was a great friend, at least back then, but he wasn't the kind of guy that would make anyone a good husband. And as for Shawn being a father, you couldn't do much worse--he was not only totally irresponsible, but he believed that irresponsibility was a virtue.

"I loved her too, Selena." This was actually, for the most part, true. His mother had always been partial to him, and Shawn had gone so far as to call him a Mama's boy, especially after she had agreed to buy him the Mercedes. But the car was just his graduation present from college--he and his mother had made that deal when he was in his sophomore year. "And the worst thing about Mom dying," said Jeremy, "is that I'll never be able to repay her for all the things she did to help me."

Jeremy had just said that to be diplomatic, but when Selena burst into tears and covered her face with her hands, he knew he had made a mistake because Selena had often been mean to their mother and would take his offhand expression to heart. "I'll never be able to forgive myself," he heard Selena say through the flood of her anguished tears. "I should have been more sympathetic to her after Cathy died."

Cathy was their younger sister; she had been born in 1997 and died of SIDS in 1999. Their father had been home alone with Cathy when she died, and their mother had always blamed him for the death. Jeremy knew that the real source of their mother's antagonism to their father was his perpetual addiction to affairs with beautiful women. But what difference did all this make now? Looked at objectively, Cathy's death was nothing more than a seedy subplot from an about-to-be-cancelled soap opera. Jeremy had an impulse to say something totally stupid like "Let's forget about all this, Selena, and think about what we're going to do tonight--and who we're going to do it with," but instead, he stared absentmindedly out the window and kept reminding himself that nothing was important. Too bad that Selena was such a straight arrow and could only see things through the prism of her ego. Once you realized that you had no importance, where was your ego?

"And to think," said Selena, who had calmed down to a state of convulsive sobbing, "that Dad was the one who murdered her. I've lost both my parents...and...what am I supposed to do?"

"It's alright, Selena--don't take it to heart because if you do, it'll destroy your life. Things are never as bad as they seem."

"Are you kidding me, Jeremy?" Suddenly, the tears had stopped, and Selena became angry, a not uncommon occurrence with her. "Our mother is murdered by our father, and I'm supposed to accept that? I don't care what anyone says--I cannot believe that Dad killed Mom. I know he didn't treat her right, but still, he wouldn't have done something like that."

Jeremy had been afraid that Selena would react this way. She had always had a blind spot for their father, but she didn't know a tenth of the things that he had done during his marriage. Jeremy doubted very much that she knew of even one of his affairs--their father had, in fact, been a serial affair guy. One right after another--the _Playboy_ daughter had a _Playboy_ father.

"I realize," said Selena, "that he wasn't always faithful to her, but that doesn't mean he murdered her."

Jeremy saw no sense in talking about the evidence that connected their father to the murder because, at the moment, Selena was far too emotional and wouldn't respond to logic. "So you know about that?" Jeremy said cautiously.

"Yes, it was a few years ago, back when I started high school. I was downtown, and I saw Dad with this woman at the mall--it was obvious to me that they were more than friends."

"Did Dad see you?"

"No, I hid behind a large pole and waited for them to go by. I was so embarrassed."

"Embarrassed?"

"It's terrible to see your father doing something like that. I felt ashamed to be his daughter."

"Do you know if he had any other affairs?"

"I think that was the only one."

Dream on. "Selena, there's no point talking about this. Maybe you should stay away from the trial because it will only upset you."

"I don't care what the evidence is against him," Selena said vehemently. "I still think he's innocent. Just because you have an affair doesn't mean you murdered your wife. Don't tell me that you believe he murdered her?"

This was a difficult question for Jeremy to answer. Perhaps his new philosophy of insignificance would help because if nothing really mattered, then it made sense to follow the path of least resistance. "I don't know, Selena...in my heart, I don't believe it, but--"

Selena held up her hand. "Don't go there, Jeremy. There are no buts--Dad didn't murder Mom, and somehow, someday, the truth will come out."

Jeremy was exhausted with the whole drift of the conversation. Everyone thought the truth was important, but that concept was just another egotistical invention of those who didn't understand that we live in a universe of two hundred billion galaxies.

## CHAPTER THREE: OPENING GAMBITS

The trial of Dana Breen was scheduled to begin on Monday, April 18th, 2005. He was charged with the premeditated murder of his wife, but the prosecutor, Justin Merrill, was not seeking the death penalty because he felt that if the stakes were set too high, the fact that Karen Breen's body had never been found could lead to a hung jury. He was certain, however, that any normal group of twelve people would not be hesitant to send Dana to prison for life since the case for the state was exceptionally strong.

Justin was also motivated by his feelings for Dana Breen. In his heart, he had some doubts as to whether the murder of Karen Breen had been premeditated--one could certainly argue that it seemed more like the impulsive act of a domineering man, and so the first degree murder charge was essentially a ploy in the plea-bargaining process. During the six months he had spent in prison since the murder, Dana had changed, and in his interviews with him, Justin had seen an arrogant man become an advertisement for humility. Dana was probably just following the advice of his shrewd seventy-year-old lawyer, Foster Pratt, but Justin couldn't help but be impressed by Dana's new-found attitude. His staunch refusal to plea-bargain--even when Justin had lowered the minimum term to twenty-five years--was puzzling, especially given the fact that he had Foster for his lawyer. Old Foster must have thrown a fit when Dana turned down the twenty-five-year deal because unless the defense had some major surprise up its sleeve, this trial wasn't going to have much drama.

"I just can't admit to something that I didn't do, Mr. Merrill," Dana had said while they were talking at the prison shortly before the trial was to begin.

"Dana, this is your last chance to accept this offer, and--"

Foster interrupted Justin and said, "We've been over this before, Dana, but I want to make absolutely positive you understand the issues that are involved in a plea deal." As Foster turned towards his client, Justin noticed the quick wink he shot out towards the prosecutorial realm.

Dana looked at Foster dispassionately as his lawyer began another sale's pitch. "Yes, it's true that in a plea deal, you would be admitting your guilt, but there's a very important caveat that you should consider before you spurn Justin's offer, which, considering the circumstances, is quite generous. Now, if he and I hadn't known each other for years, I would never say something like this in front of him, but what you need to realize is that the plea deal is simply a tactic to buy some time. No matter what I do, this trial is going to begin in April, and we just don't have enough evidence to convince a jury of your innocence."

"That's not true, Foster--what about the beer bottles that were found in the kitchen?"

"Indeed, you are quite correct, but other than that, what else do we have?"

"There must be something because I had nothing to do with it."

"That's my point," said Foster. "Sooner or later, we'll find something that proves your innocence. I think you're confused about this and don't realize that by pleading guilty, you do nothing to restrict your legal options. If, a year from now, someone is arrested during a home invasion and the police execute a search warrant for his place of residence and find your wife's jewelry, what do you think will happen?"

"That's kind of a long shot, Foster."

"It doesn't have to be specifically that--it can be anything. And once something like that happens, you'll be released from prison."

"Foster, that's just a platitude. There's thousands of innocent people who've ended up having to serve their full terms for crimes they didn't commit."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about, Dana. Look, you have to face reality. As it stands now, you're never going to be acquitted. And if the guy who actually murdered your wife dies in a car crash or settles down and becomes a model citizen, you'll spend every day for the rest of your life in jail."

"I don't know...I don't think so..."

Both Foster and Justin could see that he was wavering. "Dana, I'm going to ask the prosecutor a question, and I want you to listen carefully to his answer. Justin, what would you do if the police found Karen Breen's missing jewelry somewhere--say in a pawn shop?"

Justin knew what Foster was driving at. "We'd have to reopen the case because it doesn't seem possible that Dana would have had time to go to a pawn shop between the murder and his arrest."

"Precisely--in fact, it would have been impossible."

"You haven't actually found the jewelry, have you?" Justin knew that he should find this out before he admitted to anything else.

"No, but we're looking for it because the jewelry is out there somewhere. Now, if we found the jewelry would Dana be set free?"

"We would need more than that, Foster."

"But if the jewelry could be traced back to a person and that person's DNA matched the DNA on the empty beer bottles that were found in the kitchen, then you would have to release Dana, wouldn't you?"

Despite another quick wink from Foster, Justin was becoming suspicious that Foster was trying to trap him. "Possibly, but first we'd have to investigate whether there was any connection between Dana and the guy who had fenced the jewelry."

"Let me make it simple, Justin. All I'm asking you is this: If you discovered evidence that, to your satisfaction, proved Dana did not murder his wife, than what would you do?"

"If that were to happen, he would, of course, be released."

"And his admission of guilt during the plea-bargaining process would have no effect?"

At last, Justin felt certain that he was on the same page as Foster. "Absolutely none. From a legal point of view, it would be moot--null and void."

"But if I plead guilty wouldn't I lose my right to appeal?" said Dana.

The two legal beagles squirmed in their seats before Foster said, "Not really. Naturally, since there would be no trial, we wouldn't be able to argue any one of the many technical deficiencies that can occur in that venue, but I have to tell you those types of appeals are rarely granted credence by the appellate courts. However, we can still appeal if our appeal is based on anything that is related to the investigation of your wife's murder. I don't want to tip my hand in front of the prosecutor, but there are some issues--problems--that I have with the way the police handled this case." Foster paused after this lie--offhand, he couldn't think of anything the police had done that seemed even mildly egregious.

"I can't do it," said Dana decisively. "I could never admit to my kids that I was responsible for the death of their mother. I don't think I could do that even if I had murdered her."

"Dana," said an exasperated Foster, "you're not admitting anything to them. Your admission is to the court. If you like, I can talk to each of them and explain this very clearly. I understand what you're saying, but you won't be doing Jeremy and Selena any favors if you spend the rest of your life in prison. Not only that, I think you need to realize that certain unsavory aspects of your past will be revealed to the public--assuming there is a trial. I'm talking about--"

"I know what you're talking about," said Dana as he turned from Foster and looked at Justin. "Mr. Merrill, do I have the right to change my attorney?"

"Change your attorney?" said a startled Justin.

"Yes, I know the trial is supposed to begin next month, but I can't go into court with someone like Foster because what I really need is a person who's going to fight for my innocence and not spend all his time trying to convince me to plead guilty."

The start of the trial was delayed two months while Dana's new lawyer, Brett Silvers, was brought up to speed on the case. Brett was also of the opinion that Dana's best option, by far, was the plea deal, but he had received a very generous retainer from Dana, knew what had happened to Foster, and wasn't about to kill the goose that had laid the golden egg.

## CHAPTER FOUR:

## "IT'S GOING TO BE IMPOSSIBLE TO SIT TWELVE NEADERTHALS."

After some arcane procedural matters had been settled, jury selection for the trial of Dana Breen began on Tuesday, June 14th, 2005. The prosecution's big fear was an offbeat person who had an aversion to common sense, and because of this, Justin had decided that his ideal juror would be a thirty to forty-year-old no-nonsense professional woman. For Brett Silvers, exactly the opposite was true. The case against his client was a slam dunk--the victim's blood in the trunk of Dana's car was simply inexplicable, and except for the mysterious and unexplained DNA issues surrounding the beer bottles, there was nothing that pointed in another direction. For this reason, Brett knew that when it came to selecting a juror, he had to find someone out of the ordinary and that this person was probably going to have to be a man because, after all, it was a woman who had been murdered, murdered by her husband. However, he wouldn't be able to use all of his challenges on women because the press would eventually catch onto that strategy, and the headline on the front page of the Lancaster Times wouldn't be pretty: Attorney of Wife Murderer Tries To Exclude Women from Jury.

Brett also felt that he had to attempt to eliminate strong-minded, successful people, regardless of their sex. He had read a number of books on jury selection, with the most interesting one being _Decisive Factors in Group Decisions._ Written by a professor of psychology, this scholarly tome had delved into the dynamics of juries and claimed that the verdict usually hinged on the opinions of one or two people. The professor's theory was not that most jurors weren't intelligent enough to come to decisions on their own but that a large percentage of them weren't really interested in their mandated civic assignment. Trials were too similar to boring high school math classes, and jurors accepted their roles because they wanted to fulfill their duty, but a day in court was almost always a tedious, longwinded affair that seemed to last forever. Thus, many jurors began to tune things out as they wandered into their own mental pastures, and it was rare when there were more than a couple of them who had a thorough understanding of the issues, proofs, and arguments that had been presented during the trial. The professor dubbed the remaining ten "compliant sheep" and predicted they would accept the advice of those who seemed to be informed, even though being informed "rarely equated" with a lack of bias.

When Brett took all these factors into account, he decided that the most intelligent use of his challenges would be with men. He had to find a guy who was personable but not all that intelligent--or perhaps analytical was a better word. Men with a scientific attitude were absolutely out because they would be able to offer withering DNA-type arguments in the jury room. Best would be someone with a high school education who was a carpenter or worked in a factory. The not-too-bright crowd, thought Brett, with a lawyer's competitive cynicism. Or maybe he should look for a salesman--there was a possibility! From his own experience, Brett thought the average salesman wasn't really interested in details and facts--except, of course, when they served his own interests--but preferred the crafty art of persuasion. That much was obvious, but what wasn't so obvious was that a salesman might be instinctively drawn to Dana Breen's innocence because, as the evidence now stood, no one would need to be persuaded of Dana's guilt.

There were two reasons why either attorney could reject someone for jury duty. The first was for cause--in a death penalty case, for instance, a prospective juror might say that her religious or personal beliefs made it impossible for her to vote for the execution of anyone. And without further ado, the prosecutor would say, "Strike for cause." Both the prosecution and defense had an unlimited amount of challenges for cause, but the grounds were quite narrow. During the questioning of those hoping to be jurors for the Breen trial, Brett had only challenged two of them for cause, and the judge had rejected one of those challenges.

The attorneys for each side also had twenty-four peremptory challenges, and both Brett and Justin hoarded these like misers with gold. With a peremptory challenge, a prospective juror could be rejected for any reason or no reason at all. If an attorney didn't like women who dyed their hair, they could be dismissed, and it was not unusual for a lawyer to base all his peremptory challenges on intuitions. Sometimes, if a defendant had enough money, an expert was hired who sat with the defense during the jury-selection process and carefully scrutinized each person being questioned. Brett thought these characters were highly overrated, and to supplement his intuition, he began to rely on a young woman he had hired for the Breen case. Jessica Woods was just twenty-four and had only recently received her license to practice law, but she was attractive, friendly, and _very_ well-dressed. Brett was delighted to have her sitting at the defense table, and he was determined to inject her into the trial. Dana still wanted to take the stand and testify in his own behalf--a poor decision, but his case was so hopeless that it might be a gamble worth taking, and Brett thought that having Jessica question Dana could be an effective tactic.

Brett had discussed, at some length, his theory of jury selection with Jessica, and the two of them consulted frequently during the process. In fact, he had gained enough confidence in her that before long, he had let her question the women who were hoping to sit on the jury.

"Ms. Nelson," said Jessica to a sedate middle-aged woman who had already been accepted by the prosecutor, " I see from the questionnaire you filled out that you're a marketing consultant. Can you tell us what that entails?"

"That's just my title at Reed and Dunlop. Actually, all I do is answer calls from our customers."

"You work in sales?"

"No, not really. These are questions from existing clients."

"Alright--can you tell me if you have any familiarity with the Breen case?"

"Only what I've read in the newspaper."

"And what opinion, if any, have you formed from what you've read?"

"I probably shouldn't say this, but..."

"But what, Ms. Nelson?"

"I guess I'd have to say that if what I read was true, then Mr. Breen would have to be guilty."

Brett instinctively stood up to dismiss Ms. Nelson, but Jessica put her hand on his arm, and he sat down beside her. Whispering in his ear, Jessica said, "Let me ask her a few more questions."

"We can get her dismissed for cause, Jessica."

"I know." Jessica left the defense table and approached the jury box. "Ms. Nelson, if the information presented at this trial tended to contradict what you've read in the newspaper, who would you believe?"

"The newspapers don't affect me much, Ms. Woods. I certainly understand that an article in the Lancaster Times is not evidence and that the decision a jury makes can only be based on the evidence presented at the trial."

"But you don't think--let's call it your impression of guilt regarding Mr. Breen--you don't think that impression would color your verdict?"

"No, I don't."

Jessica returned to the defense table and made an impassioned argument for the inclusion of Ms. Nelson. "First of all, Brett, I like her. But more importantly, she's been driven into a corner. When it comes time to deliberate, she's going to remember that question I asked her."

"Whether what she read in the newspaper would affect her verdict?"

"Yes. And so, if she's inclined to vote guilty, she'll hesitate and listen to counterarguments."

Assuming there were any. "I'm not so sure, Jessica--she seems too objective, too scientific."

"That's another problem, Brett. We're going to have to figure out something about the DNA evidence because it's going to be impossible to sit twelve Neanderthals on this jury. Not only that--"

"Counselor," he heard the judge say.

"Trust me," Jessica said softly. Brett rose to his feet as two conflicting emotions swept through his mind. Unlike Jessica, he didn't particularly like Ms. Nelson, but counterbalancing that, he felt it was important to keep Jessica involved by letting her make some decisions. Besides, no matter who sat on the jury, the outcome was inevitable. "We accept this juror," he said to the judge.

Tommy Wynter was a completely different story. Surprisingly, he had been accepted by Justin. Surprising because he was a high school dropout who seemed to fit into the not-too-bright profile that Brett was seeking. The problem, from Brett's point of view, was that Tommy had obvious street smarts, which was probably why Justin had accepted him.

"Mr. Wynter," said Justin, "have you read about this case in the newspaper?"

"I doubt it--if I did, I don't remember it."

Hoping it didn't sound mocking, Brett said, "Do you read the newspaper regularly?"

"Hardly ever."

"But you have heard about the Breen case?"

"People were talking about it where I work. It's not every day that a murder occurs in Lancaster."

"And when people talked to you about it, what did they say?"

"Just that some woman had been murdered and that her husband had been arrested."

It was impressive to Brett that Tommy hadn't said that "some woman had been murdered by her husband."

"Mr. Wynter, the prosecution is probably going to present DNA evidence at this trial. Do you know what DNA is?"

"Not really. I know it was something that came up at the O J Simpson trial."

Brett wanted to laugh when he saw the look on Justin's face. "So you're aware that DNA evidence is not infallible?"

"All I know is that the Simpson trial was totally rigged and he was actually guilty."

There was a stunned silence in the courtroom before the judge said, "Excuse me? What did you just say, Mr. Wynter?"

"Simpson was guilty--everyone in the world knows that," said Tommy.

"Excuse for cause," said Brett.

"Granted," said the judge.

The last juror to be accepted was a thirty-five-year-old postman named Jon Myers. Soft-spoken and polite, he was difficult for anyone to decipher. The prosecutor was down to one peremptory challenge and spent an extraordinary amount of time questioning Jon before he finally accepted him. Brett realized that Jon had made the prosecutor nervous, and for that reason alone, he was inclined to accept him. At least Justin would have something to be nervous about!

"Mr. Myers," Brett began, "are you familiar with the concept of reasonable doubt?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Could you explain it to us?"

"Wouldn't it be better if you explained it to me?"

Brett laughed. "It's not a trick question, Mr. Myers; I'm just trying to make sure that each juror understands what reasonable doubt means when we use that term in the courtroom."

"To me, it means that I can't vote guilty unless I'm positive that the person is guilty."

"And so, if you, as a juror, were faced with a case where there was a great deal of evidence against someone, but that evidence was contradicted by a doubt, then--"

"Objection," said Justin. "Your Honor, if Mr. Silvers is going to lecture the jurors on the law, he should know the law. The standard for acquittal is reasonable doubt, not any doubt."

"Sustained. Please rephrase the question, Mr. Silvers."

"Mr. Myers, if you had a reasonable doubt--no matter what the other evidence was--do you accept the fact that you would have to acquit the defendant?"

"Yes, I understand that."

"And that it is your responsibility as a juror to voice this reasonable doubt during deliberations?"

This time, Jon took a couple of seconds before he replied, somewhat hesitantly, "Yes."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Well...who's to say what's reasonable or unreasonable?"

"I'm glad you brought up that point. Before you begin your deliberations, the judge will explain the legal difference, and you will be expected to follow his defintion of what reasonable doubt is. You would, I presume, have no difficulty in doing that?"

"I would certainly follow the judge's instructions."

"And if you had a doubt that seemed reasonable--according to the judge's instructions--you would voice that doubt in the jury room?"

Once again, Jon seemed reluctant to answer. "Yes."

"And you realize that if no one in the jury room was able to eliminate this reasonable doubt of yours, then you would be required, by law, to vote for acquittal?"

"Yes, I understand that I have to vote for my convictions."

"Your Honor, I accept this juror."

## 

## CHAPTER FIVE: OPENING STATEMENTS

Justin Merrill felt the case against Dana Breen was strong enough that there was no need to engage in emotional theatrics--rather, he intended to keep his account of the crime simple and straightforward. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury: After you have heard all the evidence in this case, I do not think it will be difficult for you to reach a verdict. Around 5:20 P.M., on Wednesday, September 8th, 2004, the defendant's wife, Karen Breen, left the house that she shared with her husband to visit her mother, Mrs. Elizabeth Harris, who lives in Malden. According to Mrs. Harris, her daughter arrived there around six, and after eating dinner, they engaged in a conversation that centered on Dana Breen. Mrs. Harris will testify her daughter told her that the defendant had become physically abusive to her and that she knew he was having an affair with another woman. This was not the first time her husband had been unfaithful to her, but she told her mother that this was going to be the last time. In fact, Karen Breen said she was so disgusted with her husband that she had decided to tell him their marriage was over, and she also made it clear to her mother that she intended to tell this to him after she returned home that evening. Mrs. Harris will further testify that her daughter was afraid of what her husband's reaction would be, but because the defendant worked from midnight until 8 a.m., Karen Breen was hoping that eight hours away from home would be enough time for him to cool off.

"Later, around seven o'clock that evening, while Karen Breen was with her mother, she made a phone call to her son Jeremy. In that call, she asked him to come by the house around midnight--after her husband had left for work. In that call, she said she needed to talk to him about his father, and when he suggested that the next morning might be a better time, she insisted she needed to see him as soon as possible.

"Karen Breen left her mother's house around eight and would have reached her home by quarter of nine, at the latest. Generally, the defendant slept before he left for work, but on this night, she must have awakened him early, brought him downstairs, and told him that their marriage was over. Then, based on the evidence we found at the scene, she went back to their bedroom and attempted to fall asleep--undoubtedly, she was hoping that by feigning sleep she could escape from her husband's wrath. The next thing we can be certain of is that Jeremy Breen arrived at his parent's house around 12:25 A.M. Although he no longer lived there, he had a key, and after opening the front door, he walked down the corridor to the kitchen, where he expected to find his mother. However, the first thing he noticed was that the sliding glass doors to the back entrance were open and that part of a torn nightgown, which he recognized as his mother's, was lying just outside the entrance. Alarmed, he called out for his mother, and when there was no response, he ran up the stairs towards the bedroom of his parents. The lights were on in that room, and he could see evidence of a struggle--a table had been tipped over, and a blanket from the bed was on the floor near the entrance to the room. Right then and there, using his cell phone, Jeremy called 911, and when the police arrived, he explained to them what he had found--including, of course, the torn nightgown just outside the back door.

"The police immediately began to investigate the possibility that Karen Breen had attempted to escape from an assailant by fleeing into the woods behind the house. The Breen's backyard is not a large one, and after approximately fifty feet, it ends at some underbrush. Bruce Simmons, one of the investigators at the scene, could see that the underbrush showed signs of recent use, and he followed the rather obvious trail for another hundred feet. Using his flashlight, he could see that he was approaching a road, Pinecrest Drive, but what really stopped him in his tracks was a large pool of blood that he saw at his feet. Actually, pool isn't the correct word because, by this time, most of the blood had been absorbed into the ground, but before this had occurred, it had formed a pool that was nearly five feet in diameter. During this trial, the prosecution will introduce into evidence photographs that will clearly show this dried pool of blood, and you will also hear testimony from our DNA experts who have determined that the blood came exclusively from Karen Breen. Detective Simmons also found a small bloody piece of plastic at the scene that would later prove to be significant because we were able to determine that it had been cut from a large roll of plastic that was found in the Breen's garage.

"Jeremy Breen was questioned by Detective Lyle Hawkins, and he informed Detective Hawkins of what his mother had said earlier in the evening when they were talking on the phone. Within an hour, Dana Breen was taken from his workplace, Huron Electronics, and while he was being questioned at the police station, his car was removed from the parking lot and examined to see if it contained any evidence, especially traces of blood. Detective Hawkins will testify that as soon as the trunk of the car was opened, he could detect a substantial amount of blood. By substantial, I do not mean something that would have come from a person being cut on a sharp object in the trunk, but rather, the amount of blood was estimated by our experts as being nearly a half pint. A DNA test was performed on this blood, and it shows, to a certainty, that the blood came from Karen Breen.

"During this trial, Bruce Simmons and Lyle Hawkins will both testify, and they will present you with the evidence they discovered, along with the inescapable conclusion that it leads to--which is that Dana Breen murdered his wife. You will hear that in all probability, after Karen Breen had retired to the bedroom she shared with her husband, he came into the room and attempted to assault her, probably with the intention of strangling her. No blood was found in the bedroom, so we know that Karen Breen was able to escape from her enraged husband and tried to barricade herself in her daughter Selena's bedroom, which was obviously the site of a fierce and violent struggle. Eventually, she was forced out of Selena's room, and with her husband in close pursuit, she ran down the staircase that leads to the ground floor. And then, when Karen Breen reached the back door of the house, which was at the foot of the stairs near the kitchen, the defendant grabbed her by the collar of her nightgown and yanked it so violently that part of this garment was torn from her body.

"Grabbing a knife from the kitchen, Dana Breen followed his wife out of the house and chased her into the small wooded area that lay between their backyard and Pinecrest Drive. Just before she reached this road, her husband caught up to her and began the violent attack that claimed her life. Unfortunately, we have not been able to recover the body of the victim, but I can tell you that Karen Breen must have been stabbed many, many times because our scientific experts will offer you proof that between six and seven pints of her blood were found at the scene. This is a truly enormous amount of blood since a person of Karen Breen's weight could be expected to have, approximately, only ten to eleven pints of blood in her body. This loss of blood is so extreme that even if she had been in a hospital, Karen Breen would have died.

"And so, somewhat unexpectedly, Dana Breen found himself standing over the body of his dead wife. I say somewhat unexpectedly because the state will present a witness, a woman that the defendant was having an affair with at the time of the murder, who will testify that Dana Breen was contemplating the murder of his wife. However, in all likelihood, the murder hadn't been planned for this night, the night of September 8th, 2004, because the attack on Karen Breen appears to be a result of what she had told him earlier that evening. So, given these circumstances, what was Dana Breen to do?

"Before I continue with what happened that night, I should mention that the defendant was under a significant time pressure since he was scheduled to arrive at Huron Electronics, his place of employment, no later than midnight. It certainly wouldn't do if he was late on the night he had murdered his wife, and in fact, the time clock at Huron Electronics shows that he punched in at 11:56. Thus, we can accurately pinpoint the time of the murder to sometime between nine-thirty and ten-thirty because Karen Breen couldn't have arrived home before 8:30, and it's safe to presume that it would have taken some time for her to tell the defendant that their marriage was over, change into her nightclothes, and then go to bed. And, on the other end of the time spectrum, anything after ten-thirty would not have permitted the defendant to do what he did before he left for work at 11:40.

"Here, I must discuss two alternative theories of the case. The first, and by far the least likely, is that Dana Breen was hoping that someone else would be arrested for the murder of his wife. However, if this were the case, there would have been no need for him to take his wife's body anywhere. He could have just left her in the woods and hoped that the police would find another suspect. It's no wonder that the defendant rejected this possibility because, after you hear the evidence, you will realize there is no doubt that he would have been the prime suspect in this murder. And so Dana Breen conceived--or had conceived--the plan to make it seem as if his wife had disappeared. But how was he to accomplish this in the very limited time he had at his disposal?

"The first and most glaring problem was his wife's body. Racing into the garage, he cut off a large strip of thick, heavy plastic from a roll that we found there. Detective Hawkins will testify that the edge of this roll had been cut with a sharp knife that had left a blood stain, and--you guessed it--our DNA experts will testify this blood could only have come from Karen Breen. The defendant placed this large piece of plastic into the trunk of his car and drove the very short distance, four-tenths of a mile, from his house to the murder site, which was only fifteen feet from the edge of Pinecrest Drive. Parking on the side of the road, a road that sees little traffic, especially at 11 P.M., he took the plastic out of the trunk, went to his wife's lifeless body, and wrapped it in the plastic before he lugged her corpse to his car and threw his wife's remains into the trunk.

"Why, you might ask, didn't the defendant drag his wife's body back to the house and load her into the car there? Because, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this would have left far too many traces. The police would have wondered why there was blood in the garage, and the police would also have wondered about the drag marks from the woods all the way into his house. Thus, the defendant took the only route that was left open to him and was able to place his wife's body into his car without anyone taking notice.

"The next problem for Mr. Breen was an obvious one: Where could he get rid of his wife's body? Because he accomplished this so successfully, I think he must have already dug her grave. We will present, as I said, evidence to show that he was contemplating his wife's murder, and if the plot was to make it look as if she had disappeared, then a well-dug, carefully concealed grave would have been an absolute necessity. Luckily for the defendant, the Lancaster area is surrounded on two sides by the state forest. In fact, if one continues up Pinecrest Drive another half-mile, one will encounter the first of many dirt roads that gives access to the forest. One would think that Mr. Breen would have chosen a site at least a few miles from his house, but wherever he buried her, we have not been able to find her. The state forest covers hundreds of square miles, and while the issue of time would have prevented the defendant from reaching much of this area, it is no exaggeration to say that he had at least fifteen square miles of uncharted wilderness to choose from. And if the grave he dug for his wife had been deep enough, say six feet, then the dogs we used during our search could not have found her."

(Detectives and prosecutors are often unfairly criticized, but there can be no doubt that the issue of where Dana Breen had buried his wife's body was poorly investigated. Because Pinecrest Drive abutted the edge of the National Forest, the dense woods adjacent to the road became an obsessive focus of those who were searching for Karen Breen's body. The two detectives assigned to the case, Bruce Simmons and Lyle Hawkins, had accepted the pre-dug grave theory, first proposed by Bruce, as an absolute fact and had ignored many other possibilities, one of which--in another context--would become important later.)

"At any rate," continued Justin, "by the time Dana Breen returned home from his wife's grave, it was very late because, among other things, he had to shower the blood off himself and change into his work clothes. We were able to locate blood in the trap below the shower drain--blood that our DNA experts can tie to Karen Breen. As for what happened to the defendant's bloody clothes and the towel that he used to dry himself, we have been unable to discover these items, but Mr. Breen would have had many opportunities to dispose of them during his journey to Huron Electronics. It would, for instance, have been no more than three minutes out of his way to detour into North Lancaster and throw these things into one of the small trash receptacles that line Main Street.

"But the defendant's most glaring problem was that there just wasn't enough time for him to deal with the blood evidence in the woods--that would have to wait until he returned home from work. Furthermore, he would also have to undo the signs of the struggle that had occurred between him and his wife. The bedroom the two of them shared would have been relatively easy to return to its original condition, but not so his daughter's room, where the life-and-death battle between Dana and Karen Breen had become very intense. However, the defendant's desperate plan to reconstruct the evidence was completely defeated when his son unexpectedly--unexpectedly to the defendant--returned home around 12:30 and phoned 911.

"Our detectives immediately surmised that a murder had been committed and went to Huron Electronics to question Dana Breen. As I mentioned earlier, his car was impounded, and it was quickly discovered that there was evidence of blood in the trunk of his car. And it bears repeating that the DNA tests performed on this blood showed that it could only have come from Karen Breen.

"Now, in all probability, the defense is going to throw some smokescreens at you because there isn't anything else that they can do. First, they will attempt to counter the DNA evidence, something that proved very effective in the O J Simpson trial. I can only tell you there was so much blood at the scene of the murder that we were able to test this blood with three different laboratories that all came to the same conclusion--the blood in the woods and the blood in the trunk of the defendant's car all came from Karen Breen. Every single drop. Many samples of this blood were given to the defense, and if they do call a scientific expert to the stand to discuss the DNA, I hope you will pay attention to this: Does this person actually say that the blood from the trunk of the car could not have come from Karen Breen? Or does he wriggle around and say that it was impossible to test the blood fairly because of this, that, or the other thing? I think we should use our common sense and not let odds of one in a hundred trillion deter us from the obvious conclusion that the blood found in Dana Breen's trunk did, in fact, belong to his wife.

"Secondly, the defense is certain to dwell on the fact that Karen Breen's body has never been found. Some people still feel the absence of the victim's body means that no murder charge can be filed, but the courts have ruled against this notion repeatedly, and many people have been convicted where no body has ever been recovered. Further, this is not a case of drowning where, admittedly, there might be some reasonable doubt as to whether someone was still alive. Rather, Karen Breen was stabbed repeatedly, and our expert witnesses will testify that based on the amount of blood at the murder site, Karen Breen lost a minimum of six pints of blood and that even with immediate medical intervention, she would have died. The state has also spent countless hours searching through every data base that you can possibly imagine in our attempt to find any evidence that Karen Breen is still alive. We have found nothing, and in this regard, I want to mention that she left behind a ten-thousand-dollar Certificate of Deposit, as well as a checking account with almost two thousand dollars in it. Karen Breen also had a credit card, which was found in her purse, along with her cell phone and seventy-seven dollars.

"Finally, since there is nothing left for the defense to fall back on, you will undoubtedly become very familiar with the concept of reasonable doubt. But before any of us can have a reasonable doubt, don't we have to have some doubt? I don't see anything to doubt in this case. We have proof that a woman is about to tell her abusive husband that she is leaving him. And shortly after that, we have indisputable evidence that he attacked her with a knife. And that this attack was so savage that it drained at least sixty percent of the blood from her body. And that this blood was found in the trunk of the defendant's car. I don't see any doubt at all in this case—whether it be reasonable or unreasonable."

Brett Silvers was inclined to agree with the prosecutor's argument, and since he still hadn't been able to devise an explanation for the blood in the trunk of Dana's car, he reserved the right to waive his opening statement until it came time to present the case for the defense.

## CHAPTER SIX: "I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE."

The morning of the first day of the prosecution's case saw a perfunctory parade of law enforcement officers who testified as to what they had discovered at the scene. Justin had decided to omit any reference to the two empty beer bottles that were found in the Breen's kitchen. One of the bottles had some beer left in it, was somewhat cold, and still had some carbonation. There were fingerprints on the bottles, and they matched those of Dana Breen, but the saliva samples that had been obtained from both bottles did not match the DNA of Dana--or anyone else in the Breen family. This was puzzling to everyone on the prosecution side of the case, and the general assumption was that either Dana must have had an accomplice, or the DNA test on the saliva samples was inaccurate. Justin's assistant, Brad Turner, thought the prosecution should present this evidence, but Justin felt there was no point in arguing the defense case. In an attempt to protect himself, Justin had all three of his DNA experts analyze, once again, the saliva samples from the beer bottles, and one of them was now willing to say that he could not be certain as to whose DNA was, or wasn't, on the bottles.

After the detectives had testified, Justin called Jeremy Breen to the stand. Personable and clean-cut, he presented himself as a successful and intelligent young man.

"Jeremy," said Justin, "can you tell us about your activities on the night that your mother was murdered?"

"Certainly. I left Lancaster around six-thirty that night and drove to North Dover where I had a gig to play guitar at a bar called Norton's."

"Did you see your mother at any time that day?"

"No, I did not."

"But you did talk to her on the phone?"

"Yes. While I was on the interstate driving to Norton's, she phoned me."

"Do you know where she placed the call from?"

"She was at her mother's house in Malden."

"Can you tell us about the conversation you had with her?"

"She sounded very upset, and when--"

"Objection--calls for a characterization on the part of the witness."

"Sustained." The judge looked at Jeremy and said, "Please just tell us what your mother actually said to you."

"She said that she wanted to talk to me as soon as possible."

"About what?" asked Justin.

"She didn't say directly--only that it had something to do with my father."

"And your response was?"

"I told her that I could see her after work the next day, but she said she'd like to see me that evening, and so we decided I would come by my parent's house after I left Norton's. By that time, my father would have left for work."

"Did she say anything else about your father?"

"Towards the end of the conversation, I can remember her saying--and this is almost an exact quote--'I'm not going to take it anymore, Jeremy. This is the last time your father will ever do this to me.'"

"What did you think she meant by that?"

"I assumed--"

"Objection!" Brett knew what was coming next and was desperate to keep any mention of Dana's affairs from the jury. "Calls for a conclusion on the part of the witness."

"Sustained."

"Let me ask you this," said Justin. "To your knowledge was your father having an affair at the time of your mother's death?"

"Objection--irrelevant and prejudicial."

The judge pondered this for a full five seconds. Finally, he said, "Mr. Merrill, what is the basis for your question?"

"I intend to show the motive for this murder."

"Your Honor," said Brett, "this is an old tactic of prosecutors that has led to many innocent men being convicted for crimes they did not commit."

"I am going to overrule the objection. However," said the judge, as he turned to face the jury, "you are only to consider the testimony that relates to any affair the defendant may have had as possible evidence of motive. Dana Breen is not on trial for adultery, and the fact he may have committed adultery, if indeed he did so, is not to be held against him in your deliberations." Turning back to Justin, he said, "Proceed, counselor."

"Jeremy, do you know whether your father was having an affair at the time of your mother's murder?"

"Yes, he was."

"How do you know that?"

"My mother told me."

"Can you tell us how she was aware of this affair?"

"She knew the password to my father's e-mail account and had read some of his e-mails."

"And so, when she told you on the phone that she wasn't going to take it anymore, you felt that she was referring to your father's affair?"

"I'm sure that's what she meant because we had talked about it before, and also, as I mentioned, she said that 'this is the last time your father will ever do this to me.'"

"So, previously, you had talked to your mother about your father's affair?"

"Yes, about a week before she was murdered, I had visited her, and she said that because my father was having an affair, she was going to divorce him and that he would be the one who would have to leave the house."

"What else did she say on that occasion?"

"That was basically it, but I can remember her being quite adamant that the house belonged to her. He could keep his car and his clothes, but everything else belonged to her."

"Between that conversation and the one you had with your mother on the night she was murdered did you talk to her about this again?"

"No, I did not."

"But was it your impression," said Justin, "that when you talked to your mother on the evening of the murder, she was, after she returned from her mother's house, going to tell your father about her desire for a divorce?"

"Objection. Impressions are not facts, Your Honor."

"Sustained. If you wish to pursue this line of questioning, Mr. Merrill, please rephrase your question."

"Jeremy, did your mother say that she was going to tell your father to leave the house that very evening?"

"What she told me was that she wasn't going to wait a day longer."

"And," said Justin pointedly, as he looked at Brett, "that's not an impression? That's a quote?"

"Yes--as best as I can remember, she said, 'I can't tolerate your father's behavior--even one more day is too much."

"Jeremy, let's talk about what happened later that evening. What time did you leave Norton's?"

"I was supposed to play until somewhere between 11:15 and 11:30, so I was probably on the road by 11:35."

"And the distance from Norton's to your mother's house is what--in miles?"

"It's quite a ways--probably fifty-five or sixty miles."

"About what time did you reach your parent's house?"

"Around 12:25--maybe a minute or two after that. I know that I made the call to 911 at 12:30."

"What did you do in the three or four minutes before you called 911?"

"I let myself in through the front door, and before going down the hallway to the kitchen, I went into my old room, which was located in the front of the house."

"Any reason for that?"

"I was looking for a manual concerning the computer I had bought when I was living there, and I was afraid that I would forget about it after I talked to my mother. But the manual wasn't where I thought it would be, and I gave up searching for it because I knew that my mother wanted to talk to me."

"What happened next?"

"I walked down the corridor, and just after I was past the living room, I could see that the sliding glass doors of the back entrance were wide open."

"That was unusual?"

"Very. And then, when I reached the glass doors, I looked down and could see part of a ripped garment--it looked like it was from a nightgown that my mother frequently wore, and because of what she had told me earlier that evening, I became alarmed and called out for her."

"Was there any reply?"

"No. By this time, I was frightened and ran up the stairs to where my mother and father's bedroom was."

"What did you find there?"

"It appeared to have been the scene of a struggle. A pillow from the bed was on the floor, the drawers to a dresser were open, and a small table with a light on it had been upended."

"And that's when you called 911?"

"Yes, because I felt certain that something bad had happened to my mother."

After Brett's brief cross-examination of Jeremy, Justin called three forensic experts to the stand. Their sole reason for testifying was to establish the fact that Karen Breen had actually died. Each expert testified that the total amount of blood spilled at the murder site was at least six pints. A person of Karen Breen's weight, 115 pounds, would have approximately ten pints of blood in her body. The loss of four pints, without immediate medical attention, would almost undoubtedly be fatal, and anything over four pints, with or without medical intervention, would be fatal. One also had to consider the fact that even if one survived a loss of four pints, brain damage would occur.

The experts next described how they had determined the amount of blood that Karen Breen had lost. The terrain at the site of the murder, although not sandy or porous, had allowed most of the blood to penetrate the soil. The earth had been dug up and examined in the laboratory, and the initial report had stated that approximately five pints of blood had been spilled. But then, two comparison tests, using soil from the murder site, had been run. Members of the prosecution and police had donated blood, and after this blood was poured onto the sample soil, it was found that the five pint figure was at least a pint too low. (The defense team, along with friends of Dana Breen, had also given blood for a similar test, and Brett's expert witness, who would certainly not be testifying, said that Karen Breen had lost at least seven pints of blood.)

This testimony was followed by presentations from all three of Justin's DNA experts who stated that there was less than a one in a trillion chance that the blood at the murder site came from anyone other than Karen Breen. This was not particularly damaging to the defense case, but the DNA evidence from the trunk of Dana's car was catastrophic. According to the DNA experts, the blood found there exactly matched the blood found at the murder site and was, without question, Karen Breen's. Further, the blood was fresh, so it had not been deposited at some earlier time. This defeated the expected defense contention that Karen Breen had cut herself at some earlier point in time and that this accounted for her blood being in Dana's car. The police had also found a small piece of bloody plastic in the trunk of his car that matched the plastic found in the Breen's garage, as well as the piece of plastic that was discovered at the murder site, and it was no surprise to anyone that the blood on both pieces of plastic matched that of Karen Breen.

For the defense, the blood evidence from the trunk was the dagger through the heart. Before the trial, there had been a slight flicker of hope--Dana had suggested to Brett that somebody could have driven his car out of the Huron Electronics parking lot that night and used it to transport his wife's body. However, with the single exception of Karen Breen, nobody else had keys to the car, but even if someone had obtained a key, Brett didn't think there would have been enough time for this person to have used the car and then returned it to Huron Electronics before the police drove it away at 2:20 A.M. Jeremy's 911 call had come at exactly 12:30, and Dana had said that he left the house around 11:40 and arrived at work at 11:55. Well...maybe it was possible. Brett went to Huron Electronics and discovered that there was a surveillance camera at the gate in front of the entrance to the lot. (And that to either enter or exit through this gate, one needed a Huron Electronics' ID.) Brett obtained a copy of the surveillance tape from the prosecutor and watched it--he saw Dana's car enter at 11:52, and its next appearance was at 2:19, after it had been impounded. Not only that, the entire parking lot was surrounded by a six-foot chain-link fence--Brett was so desperate that he actually made another trip to Huron Electronics and walked the entire circumference of the lot to see if there were any gaps in the fence that would permit the escape of a car, but he found nothing. He even went so far as to check with plant maintenance to determine if there had been any recent repairs to the fence, but once again, he came up empty-handed. At any rate, it had been very far-fetched to think that someone could have murdered Karen Breen at five to midnight, left her body in the woods, pilfered Dana's car from his workplace, buried the body, and then returned the car to Huron Electronics.

So the whole theory that Dana had been framed was untenable. In Brett's talks with him, Dana still claimed that someone else must have put his dead wife in the trunk of his car, but Justin knew that if Dana wanted to maintain his claim of innocence, there was nothing else he could possibly say. How was the defense going to deal with this issue? There could be no doubt that the prosecutor would mention this fact repeatedly, and in the jury room, if anyone dared to stand up for Dana, a half-dozen people would demand an explanation for the blood in his car. And what would this lone-wolf juror say, especially since even the defense attorney couldn't think of anything? This case would have been extremely difficult to defend without the evidence from the trunk of the car, but given that, it had become impossible. Even Jessica, a confident woman who seemed to have the answer to everything, was baffled. And time was running out.

## CHAPTER SEVEN: RACHEL CAMERON

The final witness for the prosecution was only allowed to take the stand after a contentious conference between the judge and the attorneys. Judge Marlin Kearns was a respected jurist who had presided over more than six hundred trials; with graying hair, wire-rimmed spectacles, and a strong authoritative voice, he had no difficulty in commanding the respect of Justin and Brett. The issue before them was whether to allow the testimony of the women that Dana had been involved with during his marriage to Karen. The list that Justin had presented to the judge and Brett included four women, and Brett knew from his talks with Dana that it was hardly a complete list.

"Your Honor," said Brett, "to have these women testify will only inflame the passions of the jury. Nobody approves of adultery, but this is a completely irrelevant issue that has nothing to do with the murder of Karen Breen."

Justin was fully prepared for this argument, and the only reason he had submitted the list of four women was to pave the way for a compromise solution that would bar the first three women on the list but admit the fourth, Rachel Cameron, who was Dana's lover at the time of his wife's murder. "Your Honor, the testimony of these women relates to the issue of motive, and while the state is not required to prove motive, there is certainly no law that prevents it from establishing one."

"Agreed," said the judge. "However, I am determined that the testimony presented to the jury is limited exclusively to motive and is not a subtle attempt to bias the jury. In the last five years, this state has had to retry two murder cases where judges were too lenient on this issue. Thus, I am ruling that only the woman Dana Breen was having an affair with at the time of his wife's murder will be allowed to take the witness stand, and I expect, Mr. Merrill, that your direct examination will tread lightly over the more explicit aspects of her relationship to the defendant."

"Objection!" both lawyers shouted at once.

"I must be on the right track," said the judge with some amusement. "Mr. Merrill, let me hear your objection first."

Even though Justin had already achieved his goal, he had objected to the judge's ruling because he felt it was important to remain aggressive and not allow Brett to chip away at the parameters of Rachel Cameron's testimony. "Your Honor, the prosecution feels that it needs to establish a pattern of conduct in regard to Mr. Breen's behavior towards his wife."

"And how does that relate to motive, Mr. Merrill?"

"Because as the years passed, Mr. Breen's antagonism towards his wife increased, and when he talked about her to his mistresses, he became more explicit as to how he intended to solve his marital problems."

"Mr. Merrill, I think, then, that the last mistress will be entirely sufficient, and I am overruling your objection. Mr. Silvers, what is your complaint?"

"Judge, I am familiar, to some extent, with what Rachel Cameron will say, and it is hardly a significant piece of evidence. It is something that many men have said, in one way or another, since the beginning of time, and I would agree with you that her testimony will simply bias the jury and should, therefore, not be allowed."

"Mr. Silvers, I did not say that Ms. Cameron's testimony would bias the jury. What I did say was that I was determined not to let it bias the jury, and in my opinion, her testimony may well be relevant, and so I am overruling your objection."

Rachel Cameron was in her mid-thirties, and while the word ravishing might be too extreme, it wasn't far off the mark. She was nearly six feet tall, had a marvelous figure, and walked as if she were a movie star. There was, however, something about her face that detracted from her appearance--her dark brown eyes were too prominent, her lips a little too thin, her nose too aquiline. But these were minor flaws that only became apparent when one examined her closely, and in the press, she was routinely described as beautiful.

"Ms. Cameron," said Justin, after a few preliminary questions had been dealt with, "can you tell us what type of relationship you had with the defendant?"

"It was a romantic relationship."

"A sexual relationship?"

"Yes."

"When did your affair with Mr. Breen begin?"

"For me, it wasn't an affair, Mr. Merrill--I have been divorced for over five years."

"I understand, Ms. Cameron," said Justin gingerly. "Can you tell me when you and Mr. Breen first had sexual relations?"

After an antagonistic pause, Rachel said, "It would have been around the 4th of July."

"Approximately two months before the murder of Karen Breen?"

"Yes."

Everyone noticed that Rachel never once glanced at Dana and projected an air of controlled fury. No doubt she was incensed that he had led her to this very public forum where she would have to confess the details of her personal life.

"Can you tell us, Ms. Cameron, what the defendant said about his relationship with his wife?"

"Karen had told him that--"

"Objection--hearsay."

"Sustained. Ms. Cameron," said the judge in an avuncular tone, "you're probably not familiar with the rules of law, but you're only allowed to testify as to what you actually heard someone say--and not what somebody told somebody else."

"And what was the question?" said Rachel testily.

Justin repeated the question, and Rachel said, "Mr. Breen told me that he and his wife were no longer sleeping together and that he had lost all affection for her."

"Did he say why they no longer shared the same bedroom?" (Although Rachel undoubtedly believed she was telling the truth, the actual fact was that Karen and Dana were still sleeping together.)

"He said that his wife had told him that she never wanted to sleep with him again."

"Did he express to you what his own feelings towards his wife were?"

"Yes. I guess the best word would be animosity. He said that she had never forgiven him for the death of their last child, and--"

"Objection! Your Honor, I move for a mistrial." Brett had leapt to his feet because, this time, he had something to be genuinely outraged about.

"The motion for a mistrial is denied but the objection is sustained, and I am warning you once again, Mr. Merrill, to consider your questions carefully. The death of Mr. Breen's child is an absolute non-issue here, and I am strongly advising the jury to completely disregard the witness's last statement."

"Ms. Cameron," said Justin, who was annoyed by the strict interpretations of the judge, "did Mr. Breen express to you any desire to leave his wife?"

"Yes, he said it would be complicated to file for divorce because he would lose not only the house but also all the equity in the house. From my understanding of the situation, the mortgage on the house was nearly paid off, so this amounted to a substantial amount of money, and outside of that resource, he had almost nothing--at least that's what he told me."

"And he thought that if he divorced his wife, he would lose the equity?"

"He told me that he had consulted a lawyer and that this is what the lawyer had told him."

"Do you know whether he was intending to stay with his wife, or did he express an interest in making the relationship you had with him into something more permanent?"

"He didn't ask me to marry him, but he did say that he wanted to live with me and that he was working on a plan to get his wife out of his life."

Finally! This last sentence was the whole point of Rachel Cameron's testimony. "Is that a quote, Ms. Cameron? Did he actually say to you that he was working on a plan to get his wife out of his life?"

"I believe the exact quote would be that 'I'm working on a plan to get Karen out of my life.'"

"No further questions," said Justin triumphantly.

Brett was puzzled by the abrupt end to Justin's direct examination, and a dangerous question entered his mind--an open-ended one, the type that lawyers are never supposed to ask. However, he knew that Justin would have asked this question if Rachel had known the answer.

"Ms. Cameron, did Dana Breen tell you what this plan was?"

"No, from the context of the conversation, I assumed he had figured out a way to maintain some of his equity in the house."

"A cash settlement, perhaps?"

"I have no idea--he wasn't that specific."

"But you certainly didn't take his words to mean that he intended to murder his wife?"

"No, not at all."

## CHAPTER EIGHT: A STRATEGY--IF YOU WANT TO CALL IT THAT

The night before the defense was to present its case, Jessica and Brett met in his office and decided they would begin with the two beer bottles that had been left on the kitchen table in the Breen house. These were interesting pieces of evidence because not only was it obvious that they had been opened around the time of the murder, but also, and much more importantly, two of the prosecution's DNA experts had stated that the DNA could not have belonged to any member of the Breen family. (A third expert claimed that the amount of DNA from the saliva on the beer bottles was not of sufficient integrity to make a valid comparison.) Brett's expert on DNA concurred in the opinion that the DNA excluded the Breens. So who had drunk the beer from those bottles?

In their conversations with Dana, he had not varied from what he told police on the night he was arrested. He claimed that he had awakened around 11 P.M.--Karen wasn't there, but that wasn't unusual because she sometimes stayed at her mother's house until midnight. Dana said he had showered and dressed quickly before leaving the house around 11:40, and he was emphatic that he had not drunk any beer. As for his fingerprints, which were on the bottles, he said that he had been the one to take them from their six-pack container and put them into the refrigerator.

Both Jessica and Brett assumed that Dana was guilty. They had asked him to tell them the truth, but he seemed obsessed with his children and what they would feel if they believed he had murdered their mother.

"Dana," said Brett, during one of their pre-trial conferences, "nothing we say here will ever reach the ears of your children."

"Brett, it's so hard to make people realize the truth--I didn't murder Karen."

"Alright, but you have to understand how the jury is going to view the evidence, especially the blood in your car."

"I've been thinking about that, and there's only one explanation that makes sense--someone else used my car that night."

Brett explained to him what he had discovered during his trip to Huron Electronics. After thinking about this for a few moments, Dana said, "What time did Karen leave her mother's house?"

"Just after eight," said Brett.

"So what happened to her? Where did she go? Remember, she wasn't home when I woke up at eleven."

"Didn't you notice her car when you left for work?"

"No, from what the police told me, her car was in the garage, but I had parked mine in the driveway, and so I went out the front door." The Breens had a two-car garage, and Dana told Brett that he thought it was odd his wife's car was parked in the garage because until winter arrived, they left their cars outside. "But you haven't answered my question, Brett. She should have been home by eight forty-five. Between then and the time I left for work, someone could have taken my car and used it to take her body somewhere."

"Besides you, who had keys to your car?"

"Just Karen, but maybe somebody else used her set of keys."

Sure, right, whatever you say, thought Brett sarcastically.

Despite the apparent absurdity of Dana's theory, Brett thought about it for some time. Was there any chance at all that someone else could have used his car that night? So implausible...one really had to send the imagination into overdrive to make it seem even remotely reasonable...maybe...maybe after Karen had left her mother's house, she met someone before returning home. But one would think this particular someone would be a friend or lover and would hardly be inclined to murder her. Brett couldn't see a way to make this reality fit into his contrived story...except...maybe Karen had told this person that she was breaking off their affair...OK, so he decides to murder her. By now, Brett was laughing to himself as he stumbled through this wildly improbable scenario. Now what? In the space of two incredibly short hours, this guy had to murder her, swipe Dana's car, transport the body to the grave site, bury her so thoroughly that her body had yet to be discovered, and then return to the Breen house so that Dana would have his car in time for work.

To be thorough, Brett checked into the issue of the car keys and discovered that Karen's set of keys for Dana's car had been discovered in her handbag, which was found on the floor of the bedroom. This latter fact--the location of Karen's handbag--shattered Dana's theory that someone else had used his car since there was virtually a zero chance that the hypothetical madman whom she had met at the bar would, after murdering her, go into the room where Dana was sleeping.

However, how many jurors, or even the prosecutor, would see through all the improbabilities that were involved in the attempt to claim that Dana was framed? No--on second thought, it was too dangerous to go down this path, too much like the drowning man clutching at a rotten piece of wood. But still...it was the only hope, the only way that Brett could see to negate the blood evidence in the trunk of Dana's car. A desperate hope that could only, at best, be used during his closing argument, or possibly, he could spring this pathetic lemon on the jury at the beginning of the defense case when he would be delivering his deferred opening statement. Because, that way, all the logical defects inherent in the theory might be forgotten by the time the jury began its deliberations.

But he was going to have to tread very lightly. He couldn't begin by saying anything like "Dana Breen was framed." That was too point blank, and Justin would be sure to roll out the heavy artillery and blast that flimsy supposition to smithereens. Brett knew he would have to toss the lemon into his argument, seemingly haphazardly, as he ranted and raved about the beer bottles. Throw the seed into the wind and hope it took root in the mind of one eccentric juror.

It might, then, actually help that Dana was going to testify because it would probably distract the jury. Usually, defense attorneys were terrified of having their clients take the stand since it opened up so many possibilities for the prosecution. But in this case, there was nothing to lose. During the nine months Dana had spent in prison, he had certainly become more humble, and Brett felt fairly sure that he would make a good impression on the jury because he was now openly apologetic about the many affairs he had become involved in during his marriage. Brett was actually hoping Justin would try to delve into Dana's romantic history because he had developed a persuasive way of admitting to his many sexual indiscretions, while at the same time asserting his innocence for the murder of his wife. And the longer he was on the stand, the more likely it was that even Justin might forget to refute the subtle insinuation that Dana had been framed.

Brett was somewhat ambivalent about his cynical approach to this case, but he was, after all, being paid to defend Dana. As far as the morality of defending a murderer went, he wasn't worried about that either. First of all, it was extremely unlikely that Dana would be acquitted, and secondly, even if he were, he wasn't likely to be a repeat offender. He was just a guy who had been caught up in lust, found himself in a financial bind, and murdered his wife. Most likely, that was a once-in-a-lifetime event, and Brett didn't see any danger to society if Dana were set free. Karen's family would be justifiably furious, but it wouldn't be his fault if the jury somehow managed to find Dana innocent.

Even so, Brett wished that Dana hadn't knifed his wife to death. He had, of course, seen the crime-scene photos--very gory, and it was hard for him not to put himself in Karen Breen's shoes. To feel the knife coming down again and again. Maybe slashing your throat and drowning in blood while your murderer drives the knife into your body repeatedly. Such a hideous thing to do to another human being. Here on earth, they couldn't punish you enough for doing something like that. No wonder the Christians had invented hell. Eternity was too long a punishment, but Brett hoped that if there were an afterlife, Dana Breen would be made to realize the enormity of what he had done.

## CHAPTER NINE: TWO BEER BOTTLES

Brett, as is often the case with people who have weak positions, altered his strategy when he made his deferred opening statement. "Ladies and gentleman of the jury: I suppose, by now, you must feel that my client, Dana Breen, is guilty. You have probably been impressed with the seemingly incontrovertible evidence that has been presented against him, but I think it's important to remind you to keep an open mind. The prosecutor has been careful to hide a key piece of evidence, and when you hear what the significance of this evidence is, you will be forced to reconsider all aspects of this crime.

"What is this evidence? On the kitchen table in the Breen house were found two nearly empty beer bottles. It was obvious to the detectives who discovered them that these two bottles of beer had been opened within the previous hour--they were still cool to the touch and had not lost their carbonation. The bottles were taken to the state lab and examined for fingerprints, and it was discovered that the only fingerprints on these bottles belonged to Dana. This is hardly surprising because when Dana was interrogated by the police, he told them that he had bought that specific brand of beer and had placed the bottles in the refrigerator. However, since Dana said that he had not drunk any beer that night, the saliva present on these two bottles was sent away to three different labs for DNA testing.

"Investigators were then thrown a huge curve ball when each of these labs all stated that the DNA could not have come from _any_ member of the Breen family. I hope you have understood the significance of what this means. If the beer from these bottles was drunk just before the murder of Karen Breen by someone besides a member of the Breen family, then there is not only another suspect, but logic would tell you that this person is the actual murderer.

"Why? Because, for one thing, whoever drank these beers did not leave his fingerprints on either of the bottles. This means that he must have been wearing gloves, and since it was a warm night in early September, one can safely presume that this person was wearing gloves to conceal the fact he was there. After all, murderers are not eager to be discovered. And so, to begin my case, you are going to hear from four DNA experts--three of them were hired by the prosecution, while the fourth was hired by the defense. It's true that one of the prosecution's experts has since changed his mind and now says that the amount of DNA on the beer bottles was too little or too degraded to make an accurate comparison, but I hope you will take into consideration that he was hired by the prosecution, that he originally stated the DNA could not have come from any member of the Breen family, and that all the other experts are convinced the DNA came from outside the family.

"During my closing argument, I will give you an alternative theory of what happened to Karen Breen, a theory that accounts for all the evidence that was found at the scene of the crime. The prosecutor has not been able to do this because he has no explanation for the beer bottles, and so it is certainly no surprise to me that he avoided mentioning them during the presentation of his case because he knows that they point towards someone other than Dana Breen as being the perpetrator of this murder."

The DNA experts testified as Brett had predicted, and in fact, the expert who was now contending that he was uncertain as to whether a Breen could have left his or her DNA on the bottles was a most effective witness for the defense. Robert Adams's original report, which had concurred with all the other DNA experts, had only been altered after he had met with the prosecutor. Over the strident objections of Justin, parts of this meeting had been related during Brett's questioning of Adams, and it would certainly not be finding a place into the highlight film of Justin's career. Especially damaging was Adams's claim that his conversation with Justin had, at times, been heated.

"Were you shouting at each other?" asked Brett.

"No--certainly not."

"But you had a disagreement--correct?"

"He felt it was impossible to accurately determine DNA from the saliva on a beer bottle."

"And I take it that you disagreed?"

"Yes, it's relatively easy to determine the origin of DNA in this fashion."

"Then why did you alter your report?"

There was no response from the witness, who suddenly seemed reluctant to say anything.

"Mr. Adams, why did you alter that report?" Amazing! For the first time in the trial, the prosecution was stumbling.

After an awkward hesitation, Adams said, "In my revised report, I merely stated that I could not be certain enough as to the integrity of the sample."

Brett knew that Adams was lying about something, something that Justin must have said to him during their conversation. Maybe Justin had threatened to disqualify his lab from the state list of accepted labs. The amount of money they made from police work was a significant portion of their incomes. Was it worth pursuing? Probably not, since Adams had decided to cover up whatever it was that he was hiding, and Brett knew that if he were to call Justin to the stand, that "defender of the truth," as he liked to call himself, would simply find a way to dodge the question. It would be better to try to confuse Adams with a standard trick question that many witnesses found difficult to answer .

"Mr. Adams, I would rather not waste any more time exploring this conversation you had with the prosecutor, so I will ask you this: Are you, therefore, now stating that your original report was inaccurate?"

"No," said Adams slowly, "I don't think--"

"So your original report was accurate?"

"Mr. Silvers, I made my original report in good faith, but after reflecting upon it, I decided that it needed to be revised."

"Mr. Adams--please answer the question. Was you original report accurate?"

"I would say that it was accurate at the time I wrote it."

"Are you saying that you received some additional information from the prosecutor that caused you to change your report?"

"No, Mr. Silvers, I did not."

"So your initial report must have been inaccurate."

"Mr. Silvers, I think it's important to note that my original report was only altered after careful consideration of all the facts that I had in my possession."

"Mr. Adams, is there any chance that we'll be favored with a third report that will make both your original report and the altered report obsolete?"

"Objection--argumentative."

"Sustained."

"No further questions," said Brett, who couldn't help but feel that he had finally scored some points.

Justin cross-examined the witness and spent twenty minutes attempting to clear his own name from the dreaded taint of witness tampering. Brett only offered a couple of objections, but as Justin was laboriously attempting to exonerate himself, Brett thought of an old expression that seemed particularly apt: He who excuses himself, accuses himself.

## CHAPTER TEN:

## UNFLATTERING ADMISSIONS AND TACTLESS BOMBSHELLS

The next witness for the defense was Bruce Simmons, one of the detectives in the Breen case. Brett's reason for putting him on the stand was to make it clear to the jury that no trace of blood had been found on Dana Breen after his arrest.

"Didn't you find this to be unusual, Detective Simmons?"

After pondering the question for some seconds, he surprised Brett by saying, "To some extent."

"Is it your experience that people who are accused of this type of crime will have at least some blood on their bodies?"

"Yes, it is."

"Detective Simmons, the prosecutor will undoubtedly attribute this lack of blood on the defendant to the shower he presumably took after the murder." Before Brett could continue, Bruce said, "I couldn't say."

"You couldn't say what, Detective Simmons?"

"I couldn't say whether Mr. Merrill will attribute it to that or not."

There was some mild chuckling in the courtroom, and Bruce felt a small sense of triumph--it wasn't often that a detective was able to get the best of a defense attorney.

"That isn't what I was referring to," said Brett with some annoyance. "My question is this: Even if we assume that the defendant took a long shower immediately after the murder wouldn't one expect to find a trace of blood on him?"

"I wouldn't think so, but I really don't know."

"You don't know!" said Brett, as if he had just discovered a new planet.

"That's correct," said Bruce laconically.

"Then how could Dana Breen be charged with this crime?"

"Mr. Silvers, I never considered the lack of blood on Dana Breen to be a significant factor."

"And that was because he had, presumably, showered?"

"Not presumably, Mr. Silvers. Remember, we found the victim's blood in the trap beneath the shower drain."

"Did you consult any scientific expert on this question?"

"On what question?"

"On whether a shower would remove all traces of blood."

"No, I didn't."

"You didn't!" said Brett, in a loud voice. "So you really have no idea whether the lack of blood on Mr. Breen was significant?"

"In my professional opinion, it is not significant."

"But you failed to consult an expert--is that correct?"

Bruce knew that it would only prolong the agony if he objected to the word fail. "That's correct, Mr. Silvers."

"If your investigation was as thorough as you claimed it to be wouldn't it have been wise to do this?"

Cornered by a question that he considered irrelevant, Bruce decided the safest path was honesty. "To be frank, it never occurred to me."

Not surprisingly, Brett erupted. "It never occurred to you! And here you have the nerve to come into this courtroom and claim that you conducted a fair investigation."

Before Bruce could reply, Justin stood up and said, "Objection. Counsel is badgering the witness."

"Sustained. You've made your point, Mr. Silvers--please move on."

There was nothing to move on to and Brett tried, in various ways, to return to the lack of blood on Dana but couldn't get past the stone wall that the prosecutor and judge had thrown up in front of him. (Although Brett's examination of the witness seemed to be a triumph for the defense, the prosecutor, during the rebuttal phase of the trial, would produce two experts who stated that the absence of blood on Dana, assuming he had showered, was not surprising, especially since most of the blood splatter would have landed on his clothes and not on his body.)

Two months before his forty-fourth birthday, Dana took the stand. Brett felt it would make a favorable impression on the jury if the direct examination was conducted by a woman, and so Jessica Woods had been preparing for this day since before the beginning of the trial. Although she remained convinced that Dana had murdered his wife, she felt some sympathy for him. He was undoubtedly just another man who had drowned in the cataclysmic currents of sex and greed. And now, because of his children or his own pride, he could not admit to what he had done. Jessica knew the verdict was a foregone conclusion, and her sole motive was to present Dana in a favorable light, a light that could potentially reduce his sentence.

Dana was still a handsome man--like his daughter Selena, he had blond hair and blue eyes. He was six feet tall, had a pleasant, almost kindly face, and an engaging, well-modulated voice.

"Dana," Jessica began conversationally, "we have heard testimony here from a woman named Rachel Cameron. She stated that the two of you had sexual relations. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And this would be around the time of your wife's murder?"

"Yes." Dana's voice was soft and apologetic.

"And how do you feel about that now?"

Dana shocked everyone by saying, "Rachel was hardly the first woman I had an affair with." Brett could see that Justin was staring in his direction--no doubt the prosecutor was wondering what kind of stunt the defense had prepared, but this unflattering admission from Dana was certainly not part of the script that Jessica and Brett had prepared for him.

Jessica made an attempt to slow down the train wreck. "Dana, that wasn't my question. What--"

"No," said Dana. "I've had almost a year to reflect on my life, and I realize that I was a terrible husband and father."

Stunned, Jessica walked slowly back to the defense table and waited for Brett to finish a hastily scribbled note: Go with it--if he's saying things like this, then maybe he'll be more believable when he denies the murder.

"Counselor," said the judge wryly, "have you any more questions for your witness?"

"Dana," said Jessica decisively, "you did support your family financially, didn't you?"

"Yes, but emotionally, I was never there for them."

"And you regret that now?"

"More than anyone can know because when someone suddenly dies, you are never given the chance to say that you're sorry, sorry from the bottom of your heart. Karen was...she--"

Jessica wasn't at all sure that Brett's advice was sound because it appeared to her that Dana might be about to publicly confess. "Dana, what we're interested in is something you said to Rachel Cameron. I believe you told her that you were, quote, 'working on a plan to get Karen out of my life.' Is that what you actually said?"

In the pretrial preparation, Jessica had discussed this question with him carefully, but what he said now was entirely extemporaneous.

"Yes...and..." Up to this point in his testimony, Dana had been somber, controlled, and quietly passionate, but now he became silent and stared vacantly into space.

"Dana," said Jessica softly, "is--"

"Yes, yes, _yes._ And when I told Rachel that...I mean I actually thought--I don't know what I was thinking, but for a while, I wondered if there was a way."

Brett had suddenly turned into a squirrel who was frozen in the middle of the railroad tracks as a freight train bore down on him at sixty miles an hour.

Jessica had the opposite reaction and completely lost her temper. "So what are you saying, Dana? Did you actually contemplate murdering your wife?"

"No...but I have to be honest--it crossed my mind."

"It did?" said Jessica with sarcastic bitterness.

"Yes."

"Did you follow through with this intention to kill her?" By now, Jessica was expecting him to say yes.

"No, it wasn't really an intention to kill her. It was more like a perverse thought that I sometimes had trouble controlling."

At least it was only sometimes! Justin could easily imagine what was going through Brett's mind. It probably wasn't so much that his client had completely self-destructed as it was the shame of being the lead attorney for such a botched-up defense. Tsk, tsk, old boy--that's why you shouldn't put a murderer on the stand.

"So you had no actual plan to murder your wife?" Jessica didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"No, not really."

Flabbergasted would be too mild a word for the reaction of those in the courtroom. Justin still suspected that this whole scene was a prelude to some weird ploy that was about to explode into reality, but no matter what the ploy was, it had gone way too far. And when it came to sentencing this poor fool, the sky would be the limit.

"I want you to think this question over carefully, Dana," said Jessica, with a note of desperation in her voice. "Are you telling us that when you made this statement to Rachel Cameron, you were contemplating murdering your wife?"

"No--I just said that to Rachel so she wouldn't leave me. But afterwards, when I thought about my relationship with Karen, I began to accept the fact that I was probably stuck with her for the rest of my life."

This tactless bombshell from Dana was sure to meet with universal public revulsion, especially from the philandering men who had been able to successfully disguise their adulteries and would feel the Machiavellian necessity of expressing the proper amount of outrage in front of their long-suffering, naive wives. By now, Jessica was simply disgusted with Dana and said, "Did you, or did you not, murder your wife, Dana?"

"No" he said with an audible sigh, "I did not. I've done many things that I'm ashamed of, but I did not murder Karen, the one true friend I had in this life."

"Thank you," said Jessica bitingly, "no further questions."

By now, Justin had put his hand over his mouth so that people wouldn't see him laughing. After this kind of show, what else could you do? During Dana's testimony, he had written down some spontaneous questions that were to go along with his prepared ones, but as he stood up to cross-examine Dana, he realized that it could only go downhill from here. In a dismissive tone, he said, "I have no questions for this witness."

## CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE CASE FOR THE DEFENSE

At the conclusion of the trial, when it came time for closing arguments, the defense was required to precede the prosecution. As Brett rose slowly from his seat to address the jury, everyone in the courtroom knew that this game was over. A lopsided match had turned into a rout, and Brett had spent the previous night wrestling with how he should approach his upcoming speech. Should he even bother with the bizarre theory that he had cooked up as an explanation to this crime? Or should he just admit defeat and concentrate on something more practical: Given the evidence, it seemed likely that the murder of Karen Breen had not been premeditated. The prosecutor's theory of the crime actually accentuated this fact because it didn't make a great deal of sense for Dana to _plan_ a murder where a significant part of the cover-up--to make it look as if Karen had disappeared **\--** would be delayed until after he returned home from work eight hours later. Admittedly, it remained a possibility that Dana might have found it necessary to alter his plan because he had never expected that his wife would put up such a struggle after he attacked her, but it still seemed to Brett that the murder had erupted out of a sudden quarrel. The only thing that didn't fit into that theory was the beer bottles, which didn't fit into any theory. To Brett, they remained a genuinely mystifying phenomenon, and at the last instant, he decided to go down swinging with the most powerful punches he had.

"Ladies and gentleman of the jury, if you're inclined to feel that my client is guilty, I ask you to consider carefully what I am about to say because, this morning, you will hear an entirely different explanation for the blood that was found in the trunk of Dana's car, and I am willing to bet with you, right now, that it will be a much better explanation than what the prosecutor will offer for the beer bottles, which is nothing but the hastily revised testimony of one of his DNA experts. However, before I do this, I think it's important to once again call attention to the fact that the prosecution has not been able to locate the body of Karen Breen. To obscure this, Mr. Merrill has told you that there have been many successful murder prosecutions where the body of the victim was never found, but his use of the word many is nothing but a gross, self-serving exaggeration. There have, in fact, been very few cases where a person has been convicted of murder without the victim's body having been recovered. How few? I researched this issue thoroughly and can tell you that I was only able to find eighty-nine cases where this had actually occurred." (By "thoroughly," Brett meant forty minutes of prowling through various sites on the internet and arriving at an estimate that seemed reasonable enough to escape the scrutiny of Justin.) "Eighty-nine cases in the last hundred years! Naturally, if there had only been a total of a thousand murders during this time, we could justifiably use the word many. Unfortunately, however, there have been at least a hundred thousand murder trials over the last hundred years--that's only a thousand a year--and to use the word many is clearly absurd. Yes, people have been convicted despite the absence of the victim's body, but it is extremely rare.

"There's a reason for this, and it's an obvious one. Without a body, we can never be positive that a person has actually been murdered. And since the prosecutor has been rash enough to introduce the word many, I can tell you that there have indeed been many cases where so-called victims have faked their own murders, which means that the most common reason, by far, for the absence of the victim's body is the fact the victim is alive and well. Furthermore, in this particular case, I think it's strange that the body has never been found because according to Mr. Merrill's theory of the crime, the defendant had very little time to bury his wife's body. I know the prosecutor is going to explain this away by talking about the pre-dug grave, but that's really quite laughable since Mr. Merrill is also claiming the murder was the result of a spontaneous quarrel--but wait, he says, as he tries to twist the facts to suit his own ends, the murder wasn't quite spontaneous because...because that doesn't fit into the fact that Karen Breen's body was never found.

"I hope you will take this into consideration during your deliberations, but even if you decide that Karen Breen was actually murdered, your decision still hinges on two competing pieces of evidence. Granted, the presence of Karen Breen's blood in the trunk of Dana's car is a strong piece of evidence for the prosecution, but the two beer bottles found in his kitchen are an equally strong piece of evidence that support my client's claim of innocence. Let's examine this latter piece of evidence closely. At this trial, no less than four DNA experts testified in regard to these two bottles, and three of them stated that the DNA found on them could not have come from any member of the Breen family. The fourth expert, Robert Adams, stated exactly the same thing in his original report, but after some obvious arm-twisting, if not outright threats, by the prosecutor, he--"

"Objection. That's completely false," said an annoyed Justin.

"Sustained."

Brett was delighted that he could stick some pins into Justin, and impulsively, he decided to push this accusation to the limit. "Completely false? I think it's clear from the record that Mr. Merrill threatened--

"Objection! I ask Your Honor to put an end to these scurrilous accusations."

"Sustained. Please move on with your argument, Mr. Silvers, and be so good as to refrain from allegations for which you have offered no proof."

"On the contrary, Your Honor--I believe I offered ample proof that the prosecutor engaged in conduct that--"

"Objection! Your Honor, if the defense attorney insists on pursuing this, I ask that he be removed from the courtroom so that we can avoid a mistrial."

"You see," said Brett as he turned towards the jury, "how Mr. Merrill tries to evade the dubious, probably illegal nature of his--"

"Mr. Silvers," said the judge in a loud and threatening voice, "I am warning you for the last time to drop this issue. Otherwise, you will be cited for contempt of court. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Your Honor," said Brett. Turning to face Justin, he said, "Perhaps no one will object if I say that, for one reason or another, after Robert Adams had a conversation with the prosecutor, he decided to change his report. When I cross-examined Mr. Adams, you may remember that he still placed the probability that this DNA excluded the Breen family at ninety percent, and so--"

"Objection. He said no such thing."

Even though Brett had made up the ninety-percent assertion out of thin air, it was unusual for a prosecuting attorney to interrupt a closing argument with this kind of objection. Since Justin had the last word, it would probably have been better for him to wait until it came time to address the jury where he could have rebutted this false claim with a quote from the record. But Justin was obviously nervous about Adams's testimony and didn't dare to let Brett's claim pass without a challenge.

After consulting the record, the judge upheld Justin's objection, whereupon Brett decided that it might annoy the prosecutor if he read the latter part of Adams's testimony to the jury. After Brett had completed this laborious task, he said, "So there you have it, and I think any fair-minded person would conclude that Robert Adams agreed with the other DNA experts. I sincerely hope you won't fall back on his testimony to negate the issue of the beer bottles. The fact is, regardless of the testimony of Robert Adams, there was someone else in the Breen house at the time that Karen Breen was murdered.

"Now, in case you think my argument is totally dependent on the beer bottles, there is something else that clearly points to Dana's innocence. The prosecutor's theory is that Dana didn't have enough time to entirely implement his plan of making it seem as if his wife had disappeared and that he was intending, after he returned home from work, to eliminate the evidence of what he had done. But this would have taken him several hours because he would have had to clean up the mess in his bedroom, the virtual state of destruction in his daughter's room, and every trace of blood in the woods. And what is he going to do with that blood? Dig a hole with a shovel and bury it? Where? And what will the ground at the murder site look like after the blood has been removed? Even if this were possible to accomplish, it would have taken him a great deal of time, and given that fact, what explanation could he have given detectives for the long lapse in time before he called police to report that his wife was missing?

"Given these facts, I hope that the prosecutor is wise enough to see through the folly of his own argument and puts forward the somewhat more sensible theory that Dana had always assumed the police would believe that Karen Breen had been murdered. And so," said Brett with a gracious bow towards Justin, "I am going to suggest to the prosecutor that he concentrate on that theory in his final summation and not insult the jury's intelligence with his preposterous idea that Dana was attempting to make it seem as if his wife had disappeared.

"So let's follow this line of reasoning and assume that Dana had no intention of covering up the murder of his wife. His plan was that he would arrive home at 8:15 in the morning, call 911, and hope that investigators would decide his wife had been murdered sometime during the night while he was at work. It was, then, just bad luck that his son Jeremy appeared on the scene and ruined the plot. Ruined it because if Jeremy had not returned at 12:30, there would have been a much wider window of opportunity for an anonymous intruder to sneak into the house and commit the murder. Here is where the prosecutor must answer the issue of the beer bottles. Someone else was in the house that night, and we know this person was present around the time that Karen Breen was murdered. In fact, we can say he was there at the exact time she was murdered because if you consider this logically and dispassionately, no other explanation makes any sense. Certainly, if we assume Dana Breen was the murderer, the drinker of the beer couldn't have been there after the murder was committed--from, let's say, midnight till twenty minutes past. Surely, no one can believe that anyone would sit in the kitchen drinking two beers while the sliding glass doors to the back yard are open and there is a torn nightgown lying just outside the door. Is the prosecutor really going to go off the deep end and tell us that this beer drinker was a burglar who just happened to drop by at the stroke of midnight? And obviously, this person couldn't have been there before the murder occurred because, according to the prosecutor, Dana would have been awake during this time period. So how can we account for these two beer bottles?"

Brett felt his analysis of the crime made sense, and he was encouraged by the thumbs-up he had just received from Jessica. She had recovered from Dana's disastrous testimony and now felt that only an innocent person would have said such incriminating things about himself. Earlier in the morning, she had been in a feisty mood, and it was probably because of her that Brett had chosen to be so uncompromising in his address to the jury. Unfortunately, his closing argument would have been much enhanced if he had now brought it to a quick conclusion, but he couldn't resist the temptation of presenting his new theory of the murder, a theory that was the product of a sleepless night fueled by two packs of cigarettes and a large pot of high-octane coffee. (This last sentence is not intended to prejudice the reader against the entirety of Brett's argument, but the devil, as they say, is in the details.)

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury: My explanation for this crime may seem unlikely, but I make no claims that it is accurate in every particular. Rather, I intend to show you that there are many different ways to look at what happened on the night of the murder, and while the prosecutor can account for the blood in the trunk of Dana's car but not the beer bottles on the kitchen table, I can account for both. And so, before I continue, I hope you don't mind if I point out once again that the reason the prosecutor would like you to forget about the beer bottles is because their existence points to some other explanation for this crime. This means that Mr. Merrill's seemingly logical theory of what happened to Karen Breen is based entirely on a lie of omission, the convenient amnesia he has developed in regards to those two beer bottles.

"First of all, we know for a fact that Karen Breen left her mother's house around eight o'clock and should have arrived home around eight-thirty. Her son Jeremy called 911 at 12:30, so there are four hours that remain unaccounted for. The prosecutor would have you believe that Dana murdered his wife around ten and used the time between then and when he left for work at 11:40 to dispose of her body. But let's suppose something else, something more realistic, something that takes into account the beer bottles.

"Let's begin by assuming that Karen Breen was having an affair. We don't know that she was, but we certainly don't know that she wasn't. We do know that she was planning to divorce Dana, and if we are to believe statistics, the impetus for this was most likely another man. If so, instead of driving straight home that night, she could have met him at any one of the many bars or restaurants along Route 7, which is the route she would have taken to reach Lancaster. It is," said Brett forcefully, "important to remember that we actually have no idea where Karen Breen was for the three hours between the time she left her mother's house and the time she was murdered.

"So what happened when she met this man on her way back to Lancaster? Did Karen Breen mention to him that she was expecting to see her son later that night? Did he try and convince her to stay with him? Or did Karen Breen persuade him to come back with her to the house that she shared with her husband? Because maybe, all along, she had something else in mind, something that would demonstrate to Dana, once and for all, that their marriage was over. Her phone conversation with Jeremy earlier that evening gives hints of this intention, and it is my belief that she had decided to shock her husband by presenting him with the new man in her life. A fait accompli, so to speak.

"In that case, we can see that there might be another explanation as to why Karen Breen wanted to see Jeremy that night. I know the prosecutor has given you what seems like a rock-solid reason, but I think we should look at Jeremy Breen's testimony objectively, and if we do, it is entirely possible to come to another conclusion. Here are the relevant quotes from his testimony: When the prosecutor asked Jeremy what his mother had said to him when they talked on the phone the night of the murder, Jeremy replied, 'She didn't say directly--only that it had something to do with my father'; later, when the prosecutor asked him what else his mother had said, he quoted her as saying, 'I'm not going to take it anymore, Jeremy. This is the last time your father will ever do this to me.'; and finally, when the prosecutor asked Jeremy if his mother was going to tell his father to leave the house that evening, he replied, 'What she told me was that she wasn't going to wait a day longer.'

"Looking at those quotes without bias, what do we find? If we are honest, don't we have to admit that it depends on the attitude of the observer? Obviously, Karen Breen was fed up with her marriage, but beyond that, what do we really know? We can guess, but that is all we can do--it's certainly possible, as the prosecutor contends, that Karen Breen was going to tell her husband to leave the house that night, but it's also possible that she was intending something much more dramatic, and what could be more dramatic than to introduce her husband to her lover? In other words, I think Karen Breen asked Jeremy to come by that night because not only did she want him to meet this man, but she also wanted to show him that her relationship with his father was definitely over.

"A careful examination of the evidence found at the Breen house leads me to believe that when Karen Breen and her lover arrived around 9:45, she went upstairs to the bedroom she shared with Dana. He was still asleep, and after throwing her handbag on the floor, she changed into her night clothes. Why, you might ask, would she change into her night clothes? Think about it--wouldn't this be an extremely effective way to taunt her husband, a way to let him know that she was sleeping with this man? Meanwhile, downstairs, Karen Breen's lover has opened up the refrigerator and helped himself to the two beers, but as this guy is finishing his second beer, Karen Breen, who has returned to the kitchen, says something that makes him angry. Maybe she says that although she still intends to divorce Dana, she isn't ready to marry him. To put it crudely, she may have promised this man more than she was willing to deliver.

"It's a matter of public record that Dana Breen is not a violent man--in fact, up until the night of September 8th, 2004, he had never been arrested for anything. However, it stands to reason that Karen Breen might have been nervous about how her husband would react to her desire for a divorce, and so her motivation for having this man by her side was probably twofold--first, it would be a way to slap her husband in the face, and second, she may have felt that she needed someone to protect her. But as they were waiting for Dana to appear, she may have inadvertently let this man know--it may only have started out as an insinuation or a hint--that she wasn't about to commit herself to him.

"How do you suppose he would have responded to this unpleasant news? Nobody likes to be rejected and nobody likes to be used, and in his mind, it must have been infuriating to be invited into the Breen house for the sole purpose of dealing with an irate husband. He's no longer her lover--he's the guy who does the dirty work and deals with the mess. Who knows what kind of temper he had? And who knows how much he had to drink that night? Without warning, the argument that ensues between them becomes violent, and he picks up a knife from the kitchen counter. Don't tell me this couldn't have happened because it makes a whole lot more sense than the prosecutor's theory--the theory where the two beer bottles on the kitchen table become non-existent.

"Karen Breen is terrified, and in an attempt to escape from him, she runs out of the house and tries to flee into the woods but not before her nightgown is torn off her back. Yes, maybe she could have and should have screamed, but this all happened very quickly, and her first reaction, now that this guy has become violent, might have been to remain silent in order to keep her affair hidden from her husband. Maybe she did scream, and Dana didn't awaken. At any rate, after Karen Breen was knifed to death in the woods, her assailant ran back into the house because that was the way to the front door. Once inside, he saw Dana's set of keys on the kitchen table--that is where Dana usually put them, and if the murderer had seen Karen Breen put the keys to her car into her handbag, then he would have known that the keys on the table belonged to Dana." (This, "Dana's set of keys," was the inspiration that made this whole scenario possible--now, it no longer made any difference that Karen's set of keys for Dana's car had been found in the bedroom.)

"We can take it for granted that the real murderer must have been wondering how many people knew about his affair with Karen Breen because when he saw those keys, he made an attempt to cover up his crime. Grabbing the keys and a roll of paper towels, he ran out to the woods, mopped up some blood, and then went back through the house to reach Dana's car, where he wiped the blood inside the trunk. After that, he left the bloody towels on the ground, returned the keys to the kitchen table, and exited the house. And finally, after picking up the bloody paper towels, he walked to his car and drove away.

"Ladies and gentleman of the jury: I am not a detective, and it's possible that there might be something I have overlooked. I am sure that if the prosecutor can find it, you will hear about it. By law, he has the last word, and I will not be able to refute what he says, but I hope you will take that into account during your deliberations. And above all, please ask yourself if the prosecutor's theory concerning the two beer bottles makes any sense. Is Mr. Merrill just going to evade the issue and pin his fate on the suspicious retraction of his corrupt DNA expert, who--"

"Objection. Robert Adams is not corrupt."

"Overruled."

"Your Honor!" said Justin, who had become incensed by the constant repetition of this issue.

"Alright, Mr. Merrill. Members of the jury: When the defense counsel refers to Mr. Adams as corrupt, you are not to assume that this is a statement of law since no court has found this to be true. Mr. Silvers is merely stating an opinion, and as such, you are free to accept or reject it as you deem fit. Please proceed, Mr. Silvers."

"Ladies and gentleman of the jury: Before I was interrupted by Mr. Merrill, who seems desperate to avoid any mention of the beer bottles, I was asking you to look closely at his explanation for their existence. Will he fall back on the corrupt and disgraced testimony of Robert Adams?" Now that Brett had been cleared for takeoff by the judge, there was nothing like rubbing salt into the wound. "And in my opinion, it is corrupt testimony, and I insist that if the prosecuting attorney has nothing better to hang his threadbare hat on, then you should acquit my client."

After claiming that a guilty man would never have testified as Dana had, Brett finished his argument with the usual harangue of every defense lawyer--reasonable doubt. When he was done, he felt, considering the circumstances, his argument had been a good one, but he was under no illusions. His whole theory of the crime had been nothing but a collection of maybes and far-fetched rhetorical questions that were presented as unassailable facts. Clever, but this case was beyond hopeless, and the jury would probably be out for about an hour before coming back with a guilty verdict. There was, however, one thing that genuinely bothered Brett. Who had the beer drinker been?

## CHAPTER TWELVE: THE PROSECUTION REPLIES

After thanking the jurors for their service to the community, Justin went on the attack. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I hardly know where to begin. First, I suppose I should rebut the absurd contention of Mr. Silvers that the prosecution is required to present the body of the victim. Three years ago, a man was charged with drowning his wife in Lake Huron while they were fishing on a windy day. He claimed that he was sleeping when his wife had fallen overboard, and despite an extensive search, his wife's body was never recovered. At first, her husband claimed to be innocent, but after certain incriminatory items of evidence were obtained during the investigation, he accepted a plea bargain and was sentenced to life in prison. Please bear in mind that this was a case of drowning where it is relatively easy for a person to effect their own disappearance--all one needs is a large body of water.

"However, Karen Breen's case is entirely different. You may have noticed how Mr. Silvers neglected to mention the three experts who all testified that Karen Breen lost at least six pints of blood. Six pints! There is simply no way that anyone can survive after losing this much blood, and let me point out that we never heard any testimony from a defense expert that the amount of blood our experts testified to--the six pints--was in error. Do you really suppose that this issue wasn't investigated by the defense? Do you really suppose that if their expert thought two or three pints had been spilled, we would not have heard from this person? And even two or three pints would have been enough to incapacitate Karen Breen. So please--let's not dishonor the victim with the absurd allegation that the defendant can't be prosecuted for his wife's murder simply because he was clever enough to be able to hide her body.

"But beyond the blood evidence that proves Karen Breen was actually murdered, we also have financial evidence. At the time of her death, she left behind a Certificate of Deposit that had $10,375 in it, a checking account with $1,700, and a credit card that was $9,600 below its limit. Other than a $370 balance on the credit card, she had no debts whatsoever, and I can tell you that based on our investigation, this was a woman with no skeletons in her closet. We also went through Karen Breen's checking account very carefully over the last year of her life to see if there were any unusual transactions, and we discovered nothing exceptional. Also, in her bedroom, we found her pocketbook and cell phone--the pocketbook had seventy-seven dollars in it, so we can take it as a fact that if Karen Breen is still alive, she not only has no blood left in her body, but she is also penniless.

"Finally, in regard to the issue of the missing body, we have an obvious reason as to why we have never been able to locate the remains of Karen Breen. As I mentioned previously, Dana Breen was compelled to make this murder seem like a disappearance because he knew that if the police were to determine his wife had been murdered, he would immediately become the prime suspect. In fact, it is fair to say that the defendant's only real hope of escaping justice was to convince the detectives investigating this case that his wife had run off somewhere. Thus, it is especially important for us to look at motivation when we search for the reason why Karen Breen's body has never been found. Who, in other words, had something to gain?

"In the case of the woman who drowned in Lake Huron, investigators discovered that her husband had recently purchased a half-million dollar life insurance policy for her. With Dana Breen, however, we have an even stronger motive than money--the desire by the defendant to escape a murder charge. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that we have been unable to find his wife's body because, obviously, the most important factor in making it seem as if she had disappeared would be the absolute necessity of forever concealing her dead body.

"I will now move on to a discussion of Mr. Silvers' absurd theory that Dana Breen's wife was murdered by an unidentified lover. I think, before I do that, it would be best to review the actual facts of this case, and after doing so, I will show you why everything that you heard from the defense attorney, who was understandably desperate, was completely false.

"On the night of the murder, Karen Breen left her mother's house at eight or perhaps five minutes past eight. This means that she would have arrived home by eight forty-five. If the defense attorney had any evidence to the contrary, he had a chance to present it here, and his theory that she met a man at a bar is a supposition that has not a single fact to support it. We know from Jeremy Breen's testimony that his mother wanted to talk to him about his father and that she knew he was having an affair. No sensible person can deny that the evidence clearly points to the fact she was about to tell her husband that their marriage was over and he should leave the house. Rachel Cameron has testified the defendant was so worried about losing his share in the equity of the house that he had consulted a lawyer who told him that if he divorced his wife, he would lose all claim to the equity. Given these facts, if Karen Breen awakened her husband and told him that she didn't want him living there any longer, how do you think he would have reacted? And please, when you're considering this, don't forget that Dana Breen had already told Ms. Cameron that he was, and I quote, 'working on a plan to get Karen out of my life.' To be fair, I should add that while the defendant admitted he had actually considered murdering his wife, he had, at least tentatively, rejected this idea because...well, who knows why, and who cares? The important point was that he had worked on a plan to get rid of his wife, and it hardly takes a great leap of the imagination to see that since the plan had been contemplated, it would not have been difficult to implement because the details had all been worked out beforehand.

"But still, as happens with all murders, certain things went awry. First of all, in the defendant's original plan, there would have been more time. Had Karen Breen been murdered on an ordinary night--a night when she had not gone to visit her mother--it could have happened at seven o'clock instead of nine-thirty or ten or even later. Not only that, the defendant had not foreseen that his wife was going to run from him when he attacked her; undoubtedly, he had plotted a clean murder, one with no blood, one that occurred quietly in their bedroom--a strangling, perhaps. However, when he crept into their bedroom and began to assault her, she was able to escape from him and run out of the house.

"After he had brutally knifed her to death in the woods, Mr. Breen was required to make some quick decisions. There can be little doubt that he had already dug his wife's grave in the forest that lays within a mile of his house, but the defendant still had to deal with the blood at the murder site and the chaos in his daughter's bedroom, which appeared to be the scene of a drunken brawl. But first, and most importantly, he had to remove his wife's body from the vicinity of his house, and so, using the bloody knife that he had murdered her with, he cut off a piece of plastic from a large roll in the garage, put it into the trunk of his car, and drove around to where he had stabbed his wife to death. Once there, he took the plastic and placed it on the ground so he could wrap her body, as well as the murder weapon, in this makeshift shroud. Then, after placing her in the trunk of his car, he drove off to the grave that he had already prepared for her. And a deep, well-planned grave it must have been because we still have not been able to find her body.

"However, by the time he returned home from this grisly journey, it was very late, perhaps eleven-fifteen. On the night his wife supposedly disappeared, he couldn't afford to show up late for work. Far too incriminating. And so the defendant quickly showered--please remember that Karen Breen's blood was discovered in the shower drain--and then raced off to work. Undoubtedly, Mr. Breen was assuming that when he returned home from work, he could stage the scene to make it seem as if his wife had disappeared. Mr. Silvers is of the opinion that this would have taken him too much time to escape suspicion--indeed he is correct when he says it would have required a few hours. However, all Dana Breen would have had to do to explain these hours away was to tell detectives that after coming home from work, he had gone straight to bed and hadn't awakened until one or two o'clock. Please remember that Karen Breen's car was found in the garage, which was not where she usually parked her car in September, so the defendant could have simply said that he hadn't seen his wife inside the house when he returned from work--he could, for instance, have just told detectives that he thought she was out shopping.

"Further, in regards to the issue that so troubled Mr. Silvers, the issue of what Dana Breen would have done with the blood in the woods, I think there is an obvious explanation. Suppose, for a moment, that the defendant had been able to successfully remove all traces of a struggle inside the house; then why would detectives have combed through the woods one hundred and fifty feet behind his house? This fact is easy to overlook when there are two bedrooms that have been ransacked and a torn nightgown is lying just outside the back door, but in the absence of this evidence, why would anyone suspect that Karen Breen had been murdered? Certainly, to protect himself, Mr. Breen probably would have soaked the murder site with water and then covered it with underbrush, but I don't think he would have felt any necessity to dig up the ground and transport the bloody earth somewhere else.

"Those are the facts, and now let's compare them to Mr. Silvers' bizarre theory. I'm not sure I should even discuss this with you because I think the members of the jury are intelligent enough to see that the defense attorney's homespun, made-to-order tale is completely beyond the bounds of all probability. Nevertheless, Mr. Silvers is insistent that I answer the question of the beer bottles, and really, it's quite simple. The defense attorney has certainly made a major issue out of the testimony of Robert Adams, but when one has nothing but hot air to support one's arguments, strange things can come out of one's mouth.

"I want to assure the jury, without any qualification, that I did nothing to influence Robert Adams. I hired three DNA experts, and after they had submitted their reports, I interviewed each of them separately. In his interview, Mr. Adams _volunteered_ that he was no longer certain as to the reliability of his initial report because he felt that the sample given to him, which came from the same source as those given to the other two experts, was not of sufficient integrity to analyze accurately.

"Mr. Silvers predicted I would say something like that, and he doesn't, in his scientific wisdom, think that constitutes a sufficient explanation. He is seeking an explanation that assumes as a fact that the DNA on these bottles did not come from Dana Breen or any other member of his family. So I will play his game, and for a moment, I will grant his assumption that the DNA came from outside the Breen family and was left there on the night of the murder by someone else. Mind you, I don't say this is a fact, but I don't want to disappoint Mr. Silvers.

"Mr. Breen was, of course, not at all cooperative when he was interrogated at various times by the detectives who were investigating this case. Although it hasn't occurred to Mr. Silvers that the defendant may have had an accomplice, it was certainly something that our detectives considered when they were informed of Mr. Adams's revised report. And--"

"Objection!" This obvious refuge of the prosecutor had never occurred to Brett.

"On what grounds?" said the judge, with a puzzled air.

"Facts not introduced in evidence."

"Mr. Silvers, what about your closing argument? I would hardly say that your theory of what happened that night--"

Disaster. "Your Honor, may I approach?"

"Granted." When the two lawyers had reached the bench, Brett said, "Your Honor, there is no way I can rebut this." By now, Brett could see a major flaw in the prosecutor's theory. If the murder had been spontaneous--a result of what his wife had told him that night--and Dana had indeed used an accomplice, how would that have been able to work? He couldn't possibly have phoned someone at 10:15 on a Wednesday night and said, "Look, I just murdered my wife, and I need some help burying her."

"Mr. Silvers," he heard the judge say, "during your final argument, in which you were granted ample latitude, you had an opportunity to discuss this."

"Your Honor, this idea of an accomplice was not included in the discovery materials I received from the prosecution, and so--"

"That's totally false," said Justin.

"I beg your pardon," said Brett sarcastically.

"One moment," said Justin as he walked to the prosecution table and returned with a long document. Turning to page twenty-two, he showed the judge the relevant paragraph, which was part of an interview with Dana. Here, Lyle Hawkins had asked Dana if anyone had helped him murder his wife. When Dana had answered that he hadn't committed the crime, Lyle had persisted and mentioned that they were in possession of some evidence that might indicate the presence of another person in the house that night. In reply, Dana had said, "That must be true because I didn't murder Karen."

"Alright, Mr. Silvers," said the judge, "at the risk of repeating myself, I am overruling your objection."

As they walked away from the bench, Brett saw that Justin was smirking at him, and it wasn't hard to decipher the smirk: Next time you make up a crackpot theory, you should do your homework. Even so, Brett knew that Justin's sense of triumph was conditional on his having the last word because the accomplice idea, although it sounded plausible, was very far-fetched.

"As I was saying before the defense attorney interrupted me, it is the opinion of the detectives who investigated this case that if those beer bottles were placed there by someone from outside of the Breen family, then that person was undoubtedly an accomplice of the defendant. The police have spent many hours on this issue, but we have been unable to identify this person, and it is my own opinion, based on the testimony of Robert Adams, that the beer was drunk by Mr. Breen shortly after he committed the murder. However, this case is not closed, and I want to assure everyone, including Mr. Silvers, that if we are able to identify an accomplice, that person will be arrested, tried, and convicted.

"It is now time for us to take a journey into the twilight zone and examine Mr. Silvers' explanation for what happened on the night of the murder. I have heard some ludicrous tales from defense attorneys in my life, but there is absolutely nothing to equal this one. Besides the whole maybe this happened, maybe that happened basis of his argument, there are two things that Mr. Silvers completely overlooked. He warned us that he might have missed something and that if he did, you would hear about it. So here I am to fulfill his pledge to you--and believe me, what Mr. Silvers missed is rather important.

"First of all, Mr. Silvers made no attempt to explain the fact that the only fingerprints found on the beer bottles belonged to Dana Breen. This is why I am personally convinced that the defendant was the one who drank the beers; however, the lack of anyone else's fingerprints on these bottles does not exclude the possibility that Dana Breen had an accomplice since it is more than likely that this person would have been wearing gloves.

"But would Karen Breen's imaginary lover have been wearing gloves?" Only now, did Brett see the significance of Justin's argument, and to conceal his embarrassment, he began to write a long, meaningless memo to himself--the idea being that the jury would think that he was writing down a refutation to Justin's argument, a refutation that he would, thankfully, never be able to present to the jury. "Remember," continued Justin, "that on the night of September 8th, 2004, the temperature was between fifty-five and sixty degrees, and I doubt anyone in Lancaster, outside of the defendant's possible accomplice, was wearing gloves that night. Further, according to Mr. Silvers, Karen Breen's lover murdered her spontaneously so that eliminates any possibility that he might have been wearing gloves to conceal his presence.

"However, there is a second and much more important reason why Mr. Silvers' theory of the crime is simply a laughable attempt to twist the facts to suit his own ends. After this mysterious man, let's call him Jack the Ripper, had murdered Karen Breen, he supposedly ran back into the house and--but let me quote Mr. Silvers so that no one can accuse me of misquoting." Justin flipped through the trial transcript until he found what he was looking for. "Here it is--this is Mr. Silvers talking as he describes the actions of Jack after he murdered Karen Breen. Quote: 'Grabbing the keys and a roll of paper towels, he ran out to the woods, mopped up some blood, and then went back through the house to reach Dana's car, where he wiped the blood inside the trunk. After that, he left the bloody towels on the ground, returned the keys to the kitchen table, and exited the house. And finally, after picking up the bloody paper towels, he walked to his car and drove away.'

"Whoops!" said Justin, with a sarcastic, emphatic laugh. "Anyone notice something amiss? Whatever happened to the body of Karen Breen? According to Mr. Silvers, it's still there in the woods."

Inwardly, Brett groaned. Talk about missing something. And the sad part was that he could have just included an explanation for that in his tale. It would, of course, have added another improbability to his already improbable version of events, but he knew that to omit the burial of the body was an error of unimaginable proportions.

"To begin with," said Justin, who was now in demolition mode, "there would have been absolutely no need for Jack to dispose of the body, and so it is only natural that Mr. Silvers forgot about this rather important fact. Perhaps, if we gave him a few hours, the defense attorney would be able to explain away the missing body--maybe he could have Jack drive to the murder site and load Karen Breen's body into the trunk of his own car. But before he tacks this appendix onto his ridiculously implausible tale, I want to advise him that he should remember to include the piece of plastic that was found in the trunk of Dana Breen's car, and so it will be necessary to have Jack somehow know that there is a roll of plastic in the garage. But more importantly, if Jack was so intent on framing Dana Breen, why would he have taken Karen Breen's body anywhere? Taking the body from the scene only tends to exonerate the defendant--not to mention the fact that it's rather dangerous to be driving around with a body in a car. That's why Mr. Silvers neglected to mention Karen Breen's body, because its absence at the scene was completely contradictory to his own half-baked theory of the crime."

Justin wrapped up his argument with a dissertation on common sense, the necessity for protecting society by incarcerating violent criminals, and some examples of reasonable and unreasonable doubt. When he was done, no one in the courtroom had any reasonable doubt as to what the jury's verdict would be.

## CHAPTER THIRTEEN: "DELIBERATIONS"

After the trial was over, one of the jurors, David Franklin, said that he was disappointed when the time came for the jury to decide the fate of Dana Breen. David had been hoping this would be a challenging case that would require careful thought and analysis, but as he took his seat in the jury room, he wondered what the all-time record was for a jury to come to a verdict.

The first thing they did was to elect Henrietta Nelson, the marketing consultant, as their foreperson. She suggested that before discussing the case, they should vote as to whether Dana was innocent or guilty. Once they had marked their ballots, Henrietta collected them, and after a few moments, she said, "We have eleven guilty votes and one ballot that says, 'I doubt that he did it, and I doubt that anyone is going to convince me otherwise.'" There was a stunned silence in the room as the jurors looked around at each other and tried to figure out who the rogue was.

"Alright," said Henrietta placidly, "let's talk about why we voted the way we did." Because of the one vote for innocence, the jurors stated their feelings in strong and unambiguous terms. David was particularly vehement. "There isn't a single piece of evidence that doesn't point to this guy. What more does anyone want? A videotape?"

Everyone had spoken their piece, everyone except Jon Myers--the soft-spoken, seemingly polite, enigmatic postman. "We haven't heard from you, Jon," said Henrietta, with a shrewd twinkle in her eye.

"What's the use of talking about it?" he said. "You've all made up your minds. We might just as well save ourselves some time and tell the judge that it's a hung jury." A number of jurors began to speak at once, but Henrietta held up her hand for silence. "Jon, my opinion isn't set in stone, and I may very well have missed something during the trial. What did you hear that I didn't?"

Jon looked at her carefully before replying. "I know it was a strong case with plenty of evidence, but it's certainly possible that Breen was framed."

"Framed?" said David incredulously. "By who? Don't tell me you believed what the defense attorney said about that guy she supposedly met at the bar?"

"You see?" said Jon as he looked at Henrietta. "This is just going to turn into a senseless argument where we sit around and hurl insults at each other." Turning to David, he said, "No, that idea about the love triangle doesn't make any sense."

"Doesn't make any sense? It's totally absurd. If it were true, they would have found the wife's body in the woods behind the house."

Jon shrugged his shoulders disdainfully and said, "The defense attorney had to come up with something, but it's obvious that he's not very intelligent."

David wanted to laugh--speaking of not being very intelligent!

Another juror, Mary Williamson, said, "OK, Jon, what do you think happened that night?"

"How should I know?"

"But if you believe he's innocent don't you have to explain the blood in his car?"

"No, I don't," said Jon. "Because on that point, Silvers was correct--how do _you_ explain the beer bottles?" Jon's voice had become defiant.

"We should discuss that," said Henrietta. "I guess you don't believe there was an accomplice."

"That's just totally ridiculous. Remember, according to the prosecution the murder was spontaneous, and--"

"That's not true," said David. "You must have forgotten about Rachel Cameron."

"And you must have been asleep, buddy. Why don't we take a vote on this? How many people would be willing to agree with me that although Breen might have murdered his wife, he had no specific plan to do so on the evening of the 8th and that if he did actually murder her, it happened because his wife came home and told him she wanted a divorce. Raise your hands if you agree with me--don't worry, it doesn't mean that you're voting for acquittal."

Seven people raised their hands. "So," said Jon, "more people than not think the murder was spontaneous. If that's true, how did he line this accomplice up? Don't tell me he phoned this guy on the night of the murder--that's just too ridiculous. Silvers was right--the prosecutor never did explain the beer bottles, and they're every bit as significant as the blood in the trunk of Breen's car. And so I have a strong doubt as to his guilt, and it's a very reasonable doubt."

Everyone, except Henrietta, seemed deflated. The accomplice theory was definitely far better than anything anyone had come up with to explain the blood in Dana's car, which was completely unexplainable. As the minutes and hours dragged on, Henrietta could see that logic was having no effect on Jon and began to view his recalcitrance from an emotional angle. Obviously Dana was guilty, and it was just as obvious that Jon Myers was a lonely, bitter soul who needed some coddling to return to the flock. Three hours into their deliberations, Jon took a bathroom break, and while he was gone, Henrietta advised the jurors to tread lightly with their obnoxious cohort. "Don't try to twist his arm because he'll only dig in his heels. Somewhere, there's a chink in his armor, but we'll only find it if we humor him."

Two days later, no one could be at all sure that Henrietta was right. Every attempt to persuade and/or flatter Jon had failed. Meanwhile, out in civilization, everyone was shocked--especially Brett and Jessica. Could it really be? Was it possible that this trial was going to end with a hung jury? If so, Brett hoped that Dana would then listen to reason and accept a new plea deal from the prosecutor, a deal that would probably be much sweeter than the original one.

"Listen, Jon," said Henrietta, who was becoming impatient, "do we really want to tell the judge that we can't reach a verdict?"

"That's not my problem," he said.

"But they'll have to retry the case, and another jury will have to go through the same thing all over again."

Before Jon could reply, David said, "I'll tell you one thing, Mister--if you hang this jury, the whole town is going to know about it."

"No--wait," said Henrietta desperately, "you can't say something like that, David. It's wrong."

"I'll tell you what's wrong," said David. "It's having to sit here and listen to some pseudo-intellectual spout off all this irrational nonsense. Fine--let's tell the judge that it's over. But there's no law that says I can't tell people what happened in this room. And," he said pointing a finger at Jon, "I'll tell everyone exactly what your role was--I hope you can live with that because I don't think people are going to be very sympathetic to you."

There was an awkward silence in the room as everyone waited for Jon to reply to this outburst. Finally, he looked at Henrietta and said, "Alright, I'll vote guilty."

"You will?" she said, with something that amounted to fear. Henrietta wondered if her role as foreperson held her to some invisible legal standard that required her to negate Jon's vote. Hadn't his change of mind been based on a threat?

"Yes, it doesn't make any difference to me."

"Listen, Jon," said Henrietta, "are you voting guilty because you really believe that he's guilty?"

Looking at David, he said, "No, not really, but I don't feel like dealing with threats because I didn't conform to the leader of the lynch mob."

"Jon," she said quickly, before David or anyone else could reply to the insult, "you can't change your vote because of something like that. It's not right, and if you want me to, I'll speak to the judge and find out if he can compel the jurors to remain silent after they leave the courtroom."

For the first time, Jon raised his voice. "That's really intelligent--after spending the last two days trying to convince me to vote guilty, you're now trying to convince me to acquit him! I've had enough of this place--all I want to do is leave here and go back to my real life. I'm voting guilty because I don't feel like fighting anymore--not when it comes to defending some sleazy character like Dana Breen. What's more, for all I know, he might be guilty--no one in here can explain the beer bottles, but I don't have any explanation for the blood in his car, and since I don't care about Breen one way or another, it's fine with me if he rots in prison for the rest of his life."

One of the older women, a meek soul who had refrained from joining the Franklin-Myers dispute, said, "Do you think we could take another vote?"

Henrietta, who was still uncertain about the legality of Jon's decision, passed out the ballots. The vote was twelve to nothing for guilt, but Henrietta felt extremely uneasy, and for many moments, she held an internal debate as to whether she should consult the judge. But what good would it do? Jon was obstinate as a mule, and she felt certain that if he were questioned by the judge, he would simply scoff at the notion that a threat had made him change his mind. Not only that, since Breen was clearly guilty, there was no point in kicking up a fuss--besides, like everybody else in the room, Henrietta was more than eager to return to her "real life."

After the verdict was announced, the defense requested that the jury be polled, and while no one noticed anything unusual, eleven members of the jury held their collective breaths when Jon Myers was asked whether guilty was his true verdict. But all Jon said was "Guilty." And Henrietta, along with many other jurors, would be left to wonder if their verdict was really a valid one. There was something about the threat of going public that had changed Jon's mind. Perhaps it was because he worked for the government, but Henrietta thought it was more likely that he was just a timid, anti-social person who didn't want anything to do with the limelight, even tangentially. And then, when David Franklin had made a social threat, it had caused Jon to back down. Not the best of solutions, but it had an element of fairness to it.

## CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SENTENCING

The sentencing phase of the trial had been difficult for Selena and Jeremy Breen. Justin Merrill had talked to each of them separately to prepare them for the victim impact statements that they would be making before the judge. Selena had defiantly refused to say anything negative about her father, and when Justin persisted in his attempt to persuade her to do so, she had stormed out of his office. "My father didn't murder my mother--I don't care about your evidence and your courtroom tricks. That whole trial was a colossal farce."

Justin then turned his attention to Jeremy, who seemed ambivalent. "Do I have to say anything?" he said to Justin. "What's the point?" Although Jeremy had very little respect for his father, he didn't feel comfortable about the role he was supposed to play. It was too much like seeing someone tied to a stake who was about to be stoned to death--and he was expected to throw the first stone.

"Didn't you love your mother?" said Justin.

Jeremy could see that this was the beginning of an attempt to make him feel guilty, but nowadays, he was beginning to understand that guilt was just another one of those overblown egotistical emotions that ended up ruining your life. The bigger the ego, the bigger the guilt--it was just a venomous cloud that swept into your mind when the ego felt that you hadn't lived up to its supercilious, I'm-so-important standards. Total nonsense--especially when one considered that nothing humans experienced had any significance whatsoever.

"Yes, I loved my mother," said Jeremy, in the tone of a juvenile who had been asked an obnoxious question.

"Jeremy, I've already talked to Selena, and she's going to defend your father at the sentencing hearing. We need someone to defend your mother."

"I thought that was your job."

Justin looked at him in astonishment. What was it with these two kids? "We need someone from the family to speak in behalf of your mother," he said slowly and distinctly, as if he were talking to a person with a learning disability.

"Her mother, my grandmother, will do it."

"No, Jeremy, that's your responsibility, and you're going to do it."

Should he be like Shawn Evans and laugh in this guy's ugly face and walk out of his stupid morality play? Maybe... but Jeremy could see that it might be better to keep his options open. "Alright," he said, with a sarcastic amusement that only he could hear.

Selena was the first to speak at the hearing, and she really went out of her way to make it clear that she supported her father. Dressed in a black skirt and bright red blouse, both of which accentuated her figure, she stopped on her way to the witness stand to give her father a long and emotional hug.

She began her statement by saying, "First of all, there is no doubt in my mind that my father is innocent, and although my mother's loss has affected me, I don't see how I can talk about that when all it's supposed to do is heap more prison time onto my father, who has endured enough abuse already. _My father did not murder my mother._ Furthermore--"

"Ms. Breen," the judge interrupted, "we are here today not to debate the guilt or innocence of your father but the impact your mother's death has had upon you."

Looking directly into the judge's eyes, Selena said, "Try this one out for impact: You've just presided over a trial that convicted an innocent man. I have my suspicions about what happened that night, but I can't prove anything. So when you hand out your sentence, maybe you should realize that you're not God Almighty and proceed accordingly."

Before Judge Kearns could reply to this curious statement, Selena bolted out of her chair, walked over to her father, and sat down next to him.

(Afterwards, when Justin called her into his office to explain what she meant about her suspicions, she was non-committal. "I don't have a clue about what happened that night," she said after Justin had repeatedly asked her if she knew something about the crime. "I just know that my father didn't murder my mother, so naturally, I have suspicions. But it could have been anybody, anybody but my father." After twenty minutes, Justin was convinced that Selena, who continually fluctuated between anger and evasiveness, had merely been trying to throw a dramatic smokescreen over her father's guilt.)

Jeremy had been in the courtroom during Selena's outburst and thought that his sister had gone too far--way too far. Throwing away his carefully prepared, rather delicately worded statement, he said, "It has definitely been difficult for me to adjust to my mother's death. Throughout my life, I always felt that she was the one person I could go to when I encountered difficulties. Without her support and encouragement, I would never have graduated from college, and now, by the actions of my father, she has been taken away from me." Jeremy didn't look at Dana while he was speaking but stared toward the members of his mother's family--her mother, two sisters, and a brother. "I had known," continued Jeremy, "for a very long time of my father's affairs--and believe me, there were many. And while I'm talking about that, let me set the record straight and correct something that the defense attorney said." Here, Jeremy allowed himself to become agitated. "My mother was _not_ having an affair when she was murdered--my mother never had an affair during her marriage." Turning towards Dana, he said, "And I think it's rather disgusting that you allowed your attorney to spout off that nonsense."

Jeremy finished his statement with the usual sad song of the sorrows and sleepless nights he had endured since his mother had died. Afterwards, he was surprised at how much emotion he had felt while he was giving his statement. It was, he said to himself, as if he had temporarily forgotten that nothing mattered. Strange--because, truth be told, he wasn't going to sit around for days on end mourning the loss of his mother and the incarceration of his father. Jeremy's faith was in the future, not the past, and he was well aware that grieving about the past was just another recipe for failure, another fruitless trek across the arid prairie of things and events that were supposedly significant, another pointless defiance of the two hundred billion galaxies. Nobody with an ounce of intelligence would bother themselves with _anything_ that had occurred in the past. Dead and gone--case closed, move on.

Just before he was sentenced, Dana gave a short statement. He appeared calm, even conciliatory. "Your Honor, I thank you for this opportunity. Once again, although I know it has no bearing on my sentence, I want to reaffirm my innocence. I would, however, be the first to admit that I treated Karen disgracefully, but I could never murder another human being. I know that the testimony I gave at this trial will be held against me by any reasonable person, but I am determined, from this point forward in my life, to tell the truth--regardless of the consequences. That is why I said what I did when I testified." Here, Dana appeared to lose his composure. Putting both hands over his face, he was silent for some seconds. "I have, indeed, had evil thoughts," he said at last, "and although they were not translated into evil actions, I can sympathize with those who do not believe me.

"A few years ago, I read a book about another man who was accused of murdering his wife." (This theme was probably something a murder defendant should have avoided.) "Even though he was later found to be innocent, this man was convicted at his first trial, and at his sentencing hearing, he said, 'Remorse minus culpability equals grief.' That is exactly the position I find myself in. I do not expect leniency because whoever committed this crime should be punished, and so what I am about to say, or have said, is not an attempt to lighten my sentence. I merely want to say, publicly, that I grieve every day for Karen, the woman who stood by me for over twenty years and gave birth to our three children.

"And even though I do grieve, I know that there is now no longer any way that I can tell her how deeply I regret the shameful things that I did while I was married to her. I have had much time to reflect, and to the best of my recollection, I believe that I had nine affairs while we were married. Nine!" (As he said this, Justin wondered why he was so reluctant to admit that he had murdered his wife.) "And somehow or other," continued Dana, "I believe that if I had been a faithful husband, Karen would be alive today. Because, now, I understand that every action and thought, no matter how small, has a consequence. To give but one example: The reason I remained at my job with Huron Electronics was that by working third shift, it was much easier to spend the night with a woman. I would just take a sick day--it was all very easy and convenient. And so, if I had been an honest man, I would have been working a regular day job and would have been awake when the person who murdered Karen entered our house.

"Finally, I want to thank both of my children. Selena cannot believe that I murdered her mother--she is the only person on this earth to feel that way, and from the bottom of my heart, I thank her. Please know, Selena, that your faith in me is not misplaced. My son Jeremy is a brilliant young man, and he was undoubtedly swayed by the scientific evidence. How my wife's blood got into the trunk of my car is a complete mystery to me--all I know is that I had nothing to do with it. But I can understand how Jeremy feels, and if I were in his shoes, I would have said the same things that he said. He loved his mother and treated her far better than I ever did. I hope that someday Jeremy can forgive me--it will have to be an imagined forgiveness for the murder of his mother because I am innocent of that, but it will have to be a very profound forgiveness for the way I treated her while she was alive."

Naturally, although it was not an entirely unfavorable statement, Brett and Jessica were appalled by what Dana had said. Self-flagellation was the word that crossed Brett's mind. If only people in Dana's position would realize that the catharsis of the moment might well earn them another five or ten years behind bars, they would listen to the advice of their attorneys and not, for instance, go winging off with the idiotic information that they had read a book about a man who had been convicted of murdering his wife.

The judge was also not impressed, and after giving Dana a severe lecture, he sentenced him to forty years to life, which meant that the earliest he would be a free man was when he was eighty-three.

## CHAPTER FIFTEEN: UNLESS, OF COURSE, JEREMY WAS LYING

"What would you do for me if I told you what really happened to Karen Breen?"

A little over two years after Dana Breen's sentencing, Lyle Hawkins looked carefully at Shawn Evans and wondered what kind of nonsense he was about to hear. Evidently, the threat of five years in prison for armed robbery was having a strong effect on Shawn. However, since Lyle had been the lead investigator in the Breen case, it was going to be difficult for Shawn to say anything that couldn't be immediately refuted. Before Lyle could say anything, Shawn said, "Wouldn't you like to know who actually murdered her?"

"Shawn, listen to me. This isn't going to help you. Everybody knows what happened to Karen Breen, and whether you're aware of it or not, it's a crime to lie to a police officer."

Shawn laughed sarcastically. "Cops--they always think they know the answer to everything. Why don't I give you a DNA sample, and you can compare it to the DNA from the beer bottles. I can tell you right now that it will be a perfect match."

Lyle was shocked that Shawn would admit to this. Didn't he realize that he was implicating himself in a murder? "Are you saying that Dana Breen didn't murder his wife?"

"No, he wasn't there that night, but before I say another word, I need to know what you're going to offer me."

"Shawn, I'm not empowered to make deals, but if you provide us with information that proves Dana Breen was not involved in the murder, the prosecutor will undoubtedly offer you something substantial."

"What's that mean? Ten days?"

"I can't really say--maybe two or three years."

Shawn thought this over for a few seconds. Finally, he said, "I'd like to have this conversation taped because I don't want you misquoting me afterwards."

"All conversations that take place in this room are taped."

"Really? I thought you would have told me that, Lyle."

"It's for your own protection."

Shawn's mocking laugh penetrated the room. "I feel _so_ protected, Lyle."

"Why don't you just tell me what happened."

"OK. First of all, it was Jeremy Breen who murdered her."

"Jeremy? Shawn, that's just totally ridiculous. He has an airtight alibi."

"Almost airtight. Here's—"

"Wait a minute, Shawn. I need to look at my notes from the case."

As Lyle walked back to his office, he tried to remember what Jeremy had said about his activities on the night of the murder. Since Jeremy had, in a sense, been the one who discovered the body, his alibi had been carefully examined, and he had never been considered a suspect. Shawn could wait—his story was undoubtedly false--and Lyle went over Jeremy's alibi carefully. According to the statement he had given to police, which was corroborated by a number of witnesses, he had played guitar until eleven-thirty at Norton's, a small bar in North Dover. The bar was located slightly over fifty miles from Lancaster—to be precise it was 3.6 miles away from the interstate, another 50.2 miles on the interstate, and another 1.1 miles from the exit on the interstate to the Breen house. Along with the bartender, three other people were interviewed by detectives, and they all stated that Jeremy left shortly after he stopped playing--11:30 at the earliest, probably 11:35. The detective who had gone to North Dover drove back on the same route that Jeremy would have taken and going at seventy miles per hour on the interstate, it had taken him fifty minutes and twenty seconds to reach the Breen house. This meant that Jeremy would have arrived there around 12:25, and in fact, his phone call to 911 had occurred at exactly 12:30. He had already explained away the extra five minutes by saying that he had gone to his old room, which was located at the front of the house, for a couple of minutes before he went down the corridor that led to the kitchen and the back door. And obviously, whether or not his explanation of the missing five minutes was truthful, there was nowhere near enough time for him to murder his mother and then dispose of her body. So Shawn was lying.

Returning to the interrogation room, Lyle said, "I'm going to give you one more chance to back out of this. There is no way that Jeremy Breen could have murdered his mother. His alibi is absolutely airtight."

"Really! Why don't you explain it to me since you're so smart." After Lyle went through the alibi, Shawn laughed derisively and said, "First of all, when you say he left the bar at 11:35 were you talking actual time or bar time? Everybody, except probably you, knows that the clocks in bars are set ten minutes fast."

Lyle hadn't considered that. He checked the detective's report and had to admit to himself that it was possible Jeremy had actually left at 11:25. "Go on," he said to Shawn, "but you're going to have to find a lot more than ten minutes to account for Jeremy being involved in the murder."

"Involved?" said Shawn vehemently. "Man, he was the one who knifed her to death."

Lyle stared at him impassively--he knew that liars often covered up their deceits with displays of emotion.

"Anyways," said Shawn, "how fast did you say that detective drove when he was checking out Jeremy's alibi?"

"Seventy."

"Seventy! Are you kidding me? Seventy is about normal for Jeremy when he's going down a narrow dirt road at midnight. I wouldn't even ride with him when he went on an expressway at night because he liked to run that souped-up rig his mother had given him at one hundred and twenty. Why don't you pull up his record; I know for a fact that he received at least two speeding tickets for doing over a hundred a few years ago. After that happened, he bought the radar detector so he could crack a hundred without worrying about it."

Lyle guessed that if what Shawn said was true, this would give Jeremy another twenty minutes. (Later, using a calculator, he compared the drive time of the detective—forty mph on the five miles of access roads and seventy mph on the interstate—to what Shawn claimed Jeremy would have done, seventy and one hundred and twenty. The result for the slower version was again fifty minutes, while for the latter, it was twenty-nine. Thus, when one considered the issue of bar time versus real time, the different driving speeds, and the five minute wait before he called 911, Jeremy had, at the very best, thirty-six minutes to murder his mother and dispose of her body. Very unlikely, but perhaps it was possible.)

Lyle now took another approach with Shawn. "OK, and I assume, in what you're about to tell me, that you can account for the blood that was found in the trunk of Dana Breen's car?"

"Of course—I was the one who planted the blood in his car."

"You were?"

"Why don't I just tell you what happened, and you can take it from there."

Could Shawn really be making this up? It was so incriminating. And if it wasn't the truth, then what was his motive? To be on the absolutely safe side, Lyle once again read Shawn his rights. After he was finished with the Miranda warning, Lyle said, "You're sure you want to tell me about this?"

"I know you aren't going to believe me, Lyle--at least until the DNA test from the beer bottles comes back. But I was there that night, and I know what happened. To begin with, it was Jeremy's idea--he just wanted me there to help him terrorize his mother."

"Did the two of you arrive together?"

"No, I was the first one there. I left my motorcycle in the woods off Pinecrest Drive--not far, actually, from where his mother was murdered."

"What time did you enter the house?"

"Maybe a quarter till twelve. Jeremy had given me a key to the back door, and I was wearing a pair of gloves. All the lights were off in the house, so I went into the kitchen and helped myself to a couple of beers while I waited for Jeremy."

"Weren't you worried that his mother would hear you?"

"I'm like a cat burglar, Lyle--smooth and silky. She wouldn't have heard me if I had been standing next to her."

Lyle remembered that Jeremy had claimed his mother wanted to speak to him that night. So why would she be asleep? Unless, of course, Jeremy was lying.

"Shawn, she was supposed to be meeting Jeremy later that night--there was something that she wanted to tell him."

"Not quite. Is that what Jeremy told you?"

"Yes, she had phoned him earlier that evening."

"Maybe so, but who knows what the two of them actually said to each other. All you know about it is what Jeremy told you. Right?"

Lyle evaded Shawn's question and said, "What motive would he have had to kill her? From everything I've heard, he was devoted to his mother."

"Again--not quite. At one time he was, but beginning about a year before the murder, they had a falling out."

"Over what?"

"That car of his--the Mercedes. His mother had made a deal with him that if he graduated from college, she would make the monthly payments, but after a year or so, she began to have a change of heart and started bickering with him about it. As time went on, Jeremy became more and more angry, and then, about a month before the murder, he told me that her last payment would be in September."

"The month she was murdered?"

"Yes. It was actually a lot of money that they were fighting about. Jeremy told me what the car cost--I've forgotten the exact amount, but it was at least forty grand."

Could that really be a motive for murder? "What did he say to you, exactly?"

"He kept calling her a traitor, and if you'd like my opinion of what his mother really wanted to talk to him about, she was going to tell him, once and for all, that she was done with making the payments on the car. But she wasn't going to tell him that at midnight!"

"The next morning?"

"I don't know--sometime soon, that's for sure. Anyways, a couple of weeks before the murder, Jeremy said that he was thinking of...I forget how he phrased it--doing something to her, I think it was."

"And what did you interpret that to mean?"

"I had no idea what he meant, but one thing's for sure--I never once thought he was planning to murder his mother."

"So what happened next?"

"About a week before the murder, he asked me if I would help him. What he told me was that he wanted to frighten the wits out of her--we would both come into the house at night with masks over our faces, tie her up, and then threaten her with a knife."

"What good would that do?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but the way Jeremy explained it to me was that he wanted his mother to think that _maybe_ it was him. That way, she might take it as a warning and decide to continue with the car payments, but by the day it happened, I think he had decided to murder her because when I saw him that afternoon, he said the plan had changed."

"To what?"

"He didn't talk about anything specific--all he said was that he would meet me at the house a little before midnight and he would explain it to me then."

"So he arrived at midnight?"

"Maybe a couple of minutes before."

Up to this point, Shawn's story sounded as if it could be true, but Lyle didn't see how it would be possible to account for everything that must have happened before Jeremy phoned 911 at 12:30.

"When Jeremy came into the kitchen," continued Shawn, "he was wearing gloves, and he told me to wait where I was until after he came down from his parent's bedroom. After he started up the stairs, I went over to the door that led out of the kitchen, and before long, I could hear the sound of Jeremy and his mother fighting upstairs. She was yelling at him, and I can remember her saying something like "Get your hands off me, Jeremy." The next thing I knew his mother was running down the stairs, and Jeremy was right behind her. I ducked out of the way, but I could see him grab at her nightgown and rip it off her--this was just as she was going out the back door. Half naked, she escaped from him, but instead of going after her, Jeremy came running into the kitchen and picked up a long knife that was on the counter by the sink. 'Don't do it, Jeremy,' I said, but I don't think he even heard me."

Shawn paused for a few moments. "Could I have a cup of coffee, Lyle? I know you think I'm a cold-hearted guy, but the next part is kind of traumatic."

## CHAPTER SIXTEEN: "'WE'LL DUMP HER IN A DUMPSTER!'"

Shawn gulped down the entire cup of coffee before he said, "So, after Jeremy grabbed the knife off the counter, he and his mother disappeared into the woods behind the house, and in another minute or two, I heard this horrible scream, and then...nothing, nothing at all. All of a sudden, from out of the darkness, Jeremy was running towards me. He was gasping, and I can hear his voice as if it were yesterday: 'I shouldn't have done it, Shawn, but the bitch deserved it.' There was blood on his shirt and specks of it on his face, and he was waving his hand around in a really weird way--like he might slash his own throat."

"He still had the knife?"

"Yes, but I don't think stabbing his mother to death was part of the plan--otherwise, he would have taken the knife upstairs with him. My guess is that he was intending to strangle her, and then, once she was dead, he could have slashed her for the blood to frame his father. By the time of the murder, Jeremy hated both of his parents, and when you think about it, what better alibi could he have had than that his father was the one who did it?"

"Then what?"

"To tell you the truth, I was becoming worried that he might try to eliminate the last witness because, now, instead of pointing the knife at himself, he was pointing it at me, but all he said was 'Follow me.' We left the kitchen and went down the steps to the garage where he cut off a large piece of plastic from a roll that was out there."

"Where, in the garage, was the roll of plastic located?"

"It was leaning against the back wall."

"Which side?"

"The left corner--to be exact."

Correct! "What did he use to cut the plastic?" Lyle was following Shawn's story closely and was attempting to verify everything that could be verified.

"With the knife he had used to murder his mother--aren't you following this? After he had cut the plastic, he gave me the plastic, the knife, and a flashlight and told me--

"Where did the flashlight come from?"

"It was on a small table that was out there."

"Why did he give you the flashlight?"

"Jeremy wanted me to meet him in the woods behind the house. 'There's a path out there,' he said; 'just follow it until you reach the road--you'll see her.' After that, he jumped into his mother's car, and I could see him backing down the driveway as I left the garage."

"He had his mother's car keys?"

"Obviously, Lyle, since the car was moving. He must have taken them out of her handbag before he tried to strangle her because using his mother's car was undoubtedly part of the master plan. He certainly didn't want to have her blood all over his precious Mercedes."

"So you met him where his mother was murdered?"

"It was like something out of a horror movie, Lyle. I couldn't even look at her--it's one thing to see a dead body on TV, but this was totally different."

"Could you see if her throat was slashed?"

"I don't know. I only took one quick glance, so I can't tell you much about what she looked like. I know she was sprawled on her back, and there was blood everywhere--all over her face and everything...just the worst thing that I've ever seen in my life. It still makes me want to throw up when I think about it."

"What was Jeremy's reaction?"

"He wasn't there yet, and since I couldn't bear waiting near the body, I met him at the edge of the road. Together, we walked into the woods and wrapped his mother's body in the plastic and tied each end with some rope he had brought with him--that was so the trunk of her car wouldn't have any blood in it. I remember telling him that was a waste of time because the cops would be too stupid to search her car. Was I right?"

He was, but Lyle certainly wasn't about to give any information away to somebody like Shawn. "Just tell me what happened."

"So you didn't--that figures. Anyways, we threw his mother into the trunk of her car, but--no, wait, there's something that I've forgotten. In the trunk of her car, there was another large piece of plastic, so if you do find her car, there probably won't be any blood in it."

"How did that come to be there?"

"When we were wrapping the ropes around the plastic, I told him that he was overdoing it because not only would the cops never search her car, but also, the ropes couldn't possibly prevent all the blood from dripping out. Jeremy looked at me in that snotty way of his and said, 'I've got that one covered, Shawn. You'll never guess what I put in the trunk of the car this afternoon while my mother was out in the garden fooling around with the marigolds.'"

"Did the plastic in the trunk of the car appear to be similar to the plastic that was used to wrap her body?"

"Very much so."

"Then what?"

"Jeremy handed me a plastic garbage bag that was filled with cloth rags and told me to wipe up some of his mother's blood so that I could go over to Huron Electronics and smear the blood inside the trunk of his father's car. That's when he gave me the key."

"The key to what?"

"The key to his father's car."

"Was it a set of keys or just a single key?" Both sets of Dana's car keys had been found, so this question was a trap.

"It was just a single key."

"So you went to Huron Electronics?"

"No, not right away. Jeremy said that he had to shower because of all the blood that was on him and that I should wait for him to come back before I left."

"Why would he shower then? Wouldn't it have been better to wait until he had buried the body?"

Shawn thought about this for some seconds. "Probably because he couldn't be dripping wet when the cops arrived after his 911 call."

"What happened to the towel? And what happened to the clothes he was wearing when he murdered his mother? Don't tell me that he buried those things with her," said Lyle incredulously. It seemed highly improbable that a murderer would bury his own clothes with the victim.

"I don't have any idea where his clothes ended up," said Shawn reflectively. "Maybe he hid the towel and the clothes in his own car. I suppose if you didn't search his mother's car, you never would have searched Jeremy's."

Once again, Shawn was correct. Nothing of Jeremy's had been searched on the night of the murder, including his body, for any traces of blood or signs that he had been in a struggle.

"So after he left you to shower, what did you do?"

"I followed Jeremy's instructions and took the rags he had given me and wiped up some blood, and...I forgot to mention the two plastic pieces."

"What about them?"

"We had torn off a small piece from the large piece that we used to bury his mother, and we left that small piece where she was murdered. However, the real reason Jeremy did this was because he wanted to leave another small piece in the trunk of his father's car. I can remember him saying that "the stupid cops will think it's a match." So while Jeremy was in the house, I cut the small strip of plastic in half and put one of the two pieces in the bag of bloody rags."

"How many minutes was it before Jeremy returned?"

"Not long--maybe five minutes. And then, as we were walking to his mother's car, he asked me if I knew a good place to get rid of his mother's body, and I said the first thing that came into my mind."

"Which was?" said Lyle expectantly.

"Wouldn't you like to know," said Shawn with a sarcastic laugh.

"Shawn--"

"Alright, I'll tell you, but don't get your hopes up, Lyle, because you won't find her body there now."

"Why not?"

"Because Jeremy and I threw her into a dumpster behind a restaurant where I had washed dishes a few years before. In case you're interested, the name of the place is Jameson's--it's about a half mile this side of the center of town."

"Wasn't Jeremy worried that someone would find the body?"

"First of all, Lyle, it's a restaurant dumpster that's filled with rotten food. Second, she was wrapped in plastic, and third, that particular dumpster is emptied every morning. I knew all that from working there, so when Jeremy asked me what we should do with his mother's body, that seemed like the perfect place to me."

"But if Jeremy had planned the murder, why did he have to ask you where to bury her?"

"It wasn't quite like that, Lyle--maybe I gave you the wrong impression. Just before Jeremy asked me if I knew of a place where we could ditch his mother's body, I asked him where we were going, and he said that we would just drive a little ways up Pinecrest and toss his mother into the forest from the side of the road. I told him that wasn't very smart because he might have left some of his DNA on his mother's body, which the cops would be able to trace back to him. Jeremy thinks he's a genius, but he hadn't thought of that, and so he said to me, 'Do you have any better ideas?'"

"And so you told him about the dumpster?"

"Jeremy loved the idea. 'We'll dump her in a dumpster!' he said to me."

"What kind of a dumpster was it?"

"Probably six feet square and five feet high--it's used by two restaurants, so it fills up quickly."

"You said it was located behind Jameson's?"

"Yes--to reach the dumpster, you drive up a wide alley that's big enough for a garbage truck, and the dumpster will be off to your left behind the back wall of the restaurant--nobody can see you from the main road."

"Does the dumpster have a top?"

"The top is a large swinging piece of metal that's attached by hinges."

"Was it full when you threw her in?"

"Two-thirds, maybe three-quarters. But the best part was that it was similar to throwing a body into quicksand because it just began to sink into all the food glop. Plus, the dumpster was filled with plastic bags that were stuffed with garbage, so what difference would one more plastic bag make? After we threw her in, Jeremy took a stick that was leaning against the side of the building and shoved some stuff around, so by the time we left, she was completely buried."

"How could you see anything out there?"

"I still had the flashlight that Jeremy had given me."

"What happened to the knife?"

"That was in the plastic bag of bloody rags."

"I don't suppose you still have the knife?"

"Yes, Lyle, I took the murder weapon and framed it so that when the cops came, I could show them another one of my trophies. Man, I know you don't like drugs, but you could definitely use some brain stimulants."

Spoken by a real success story. "Alright, Shawn, what happened after you left Jameson's?"

"Jeremy drove me back to my motorcycle, which I had stashed in the woods close to where his mother was murdered, and I went to Huron Electronics. I knew what his father's car looked like, and since it was third shift, I didn't have any difficulty finding it."

"How did you get into the parking lot?"

"I didn't want to use the main entrance, so I parked behind the building and scaled the chain-link fence."

"What road did you park on?"

"No idea--I'm not familiar with that area at all."

"How close did you park to the fence?"

"I don't honestly remember. I was moving as fast as I could because Jeremy was certain the cops would come to Huron Electronics and question his father. All I can remember is running with a plastic bag that was filled with bloody rags, throwing it over a fence, and then going over the fence myself. If you drive me out there, I can show you where I parked and where I went over the fence."

"And you found Dana Breen's car?"

"Yes--there were only about thirty cars in the lot. I opened the trunk with the key Jeremy had given me, spread the blood around with the rags, and then, just as I was leaving, I tossed in the small piece of plastic."

"What was your motive for helping Jeremy that night?"

"Money."

"He paid you? How much?"

"Just before he left for Norton's on the night of the murder, he gave me two thousand dollars."

"In cash?"

"Yes."

"At the time of the murder, how long had you known Jeremy?"

"Three or four years--actually, the first one I met in that family was his sister Selena."

"How well did you know her?"

Shawn tapped his fingers on the table nervously but didn't say anything.

"Shawn?"

"Too well," said Shawn with evident, if slightly suppressed, animosity. "I had once dated her for a while."

"What happened?"

"Never mind--I'm not going to talk about her because she had absolutely nothing to do with this."

Lyle knew this would be an interesting avenue to investigate, but he decided to shut down the interrogation until he had more facts. In the meantime, he'd give Shawn something to think about. "You realize what you've just admitted to?"

"I haven't admitted to anything except being there."

"You're an accessory to murder."

"No, Lyle, I'm an accessory to the solution. Without me, you're still operating under the illusion that Dana Breen was the murderer."

"Shawn--"

"I'm state's evidence, Lyle. And if you expect me to testify in court, you'll treat me accordingly."

"Doesn't what happened to Dana Breen bother you?" By this point, because Shawn's story was so incriminating, Lyle was placing some possibility in its veracity.

"I was just following Jeremy's instructions; besides, Dana Breen would have been convicted even if I hadn't put the blood into his car."

Lyle knew otherwise. "Shawn, even with the blood evidence, it took that jury almost three days to find him guilty."

"It doesn't matter--don't throw that in my face. Maybe you should be the one to do some jail time for conducting such a sloppy, half-witted investigation. But no, it doesn't work that way, does it? And so, to save face, you attempt to kill the messenger."

"Shawn, if what you're telling me is the truth, there's an innocent man in jail. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Lyle, one way or another, we're all innocent. The only reason I went into that store and took the money from the register was because I needed it to pay the rent. Nowadays, unless you're willing to become a slave, this barbaric society won't give you anything, and although no one wants to admit it, the slaves of today are far worse off than the slaves of the nineteenth century."

"How so?" said Lyle sarcastically.

"Because when sundown came in 1850, the slaves went back to their huts, which were provided to them by the lord of the mansion. But in the modern world, when your shift is up, the CEO's boot you out of the factory, and then it's up to you to figure out how to pay the rent for your rundown hut. And if you're working for peanuts, promises, and chump change, like half the country is, your hut will be a cot at the homeless shelter."

"So you really think the slaves had it better?"

"Depends on what kind of master they had."

"And what about somebody like Dana Breen? Is he better off being in prison?"

"Man, get off my case. I didn't do anything to that guy. Go look up his son--there's the guy who stabbed him in the back."

## CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

## "WE SHOULD TOSS THIS PATHETIC THING INTO THE WASTEBASKET."

Lyle spent the next few hours reading over the transcript of what Shawn had said to him. Could this wild tale from an anti-social kid, who had constantly been in trouble with the law, possibly be true? The thing that really disturbed him was that he had been unable to find anything within Shawn's statement that was clearly false. Although Lyle still felt it was highly improbable Jeremy had murdered his mother, he decided that everything Shawn had told him would need to be examined carefully. To obtain some help, he went to the Chief of Police, Adrian Boone, and explained the situation. Adrian was highly skeptical. "For God's sake, Lyle, we've already convicted somebody for this murder. Even his appeals have been thrown out. Don't you realize that if Breen ever gets wind of this so-called confession by Evans, we'll be doomed?"

Lyle knew that he wouldn't be winning any popularity contests by opening up this can of worms. "Adrian, the problem is that this guy's statement might actually be genuine. I've already sent his DNA to the lab, and if that comes back positive for the beer bottles, we'll have to take what he said seriously."

"Couldn't Evans have been the one who murdered her?"

"It's possible, I suppose. However, the motivation for his confession was to avoid the armed robbery charge, so it doesn't make sense for him to talk about this unless he's telling the truth."

"But it also doesn't make any sense for him to confess to being an accessory to murder, not to mention planting the evidence that put Dana Breen into prison for forty years."

"I agree with you, but I think this only makes it more likely, not less likely, that what he told me is true."

"It can't be, Lyle. All the blood in the trunk of Breen's car proves that he was the one who did it."

"Evans explained that. Remember?"

Adrian reread what Shawn had said about the blood. "This is totally absurd," he said in an exasperated voice. "I don't think it's believable at all."

"We have to investigate this, Adrian."

"Why? I think we should toss this pathetic thing into the wastebasket and pretend that we never saw it."

"Evans isn't going to keep his mouth shut, Adrian. It would be far better if we investigate this ourselves."

"Why? What's the point?"

"Because if we can prove his story to be false, we can be done with it."

"I'm done with it now--what's the point of prolonging the agony?"

"Chief, if this reaches Dana Breen's lawyer through Shawn Evans, it could cause us a lot of trouble. We need to protect ourselves and refute Evans's story before Breen's lawyer gets his hands on it."

"Around here, this is exactly how every fiasco begins," said Adrian. "I don't know how many times in the last year I've had somebody tell me that we have to protect ourselves. And so, like the fool that I am, I spend one day after another bending over frontwards and backwards while I try to please everyone. I wish to God that I didn't have to deal with lawyers, criminals, judges, and detectives. They're nothing but the dregs of the dregs."

"Adrian--"

"Have it your way, Lyle. There's no point in talking about common sense at a time like this, but mark my words--there's nothing but a pot of pig manure under this new rainbow of yours. And also, like it or not, everything you do in relation to this case will have to be done under the table."

Lyle knew what "under the table" meant. He could investigate the case, but he wouldn't be able to say a word about what he was doing, and if anyone asked, he was to lie. Very professional--especially if you lived in a banana republic. He'd also have to go to Shawn and tell him to keep his mouth shut. In the long run, it was probably impossible to keep something like this hidden, and if the Breen camp somehow discovered there was a new investigation into the murder, Lyle knew where both Dana and Adrian would be placing the blame.

"OK," Lyle said, "but I'd like to use Gina for a week."

"Gina? What for?"

"I need someone who's had no contact with the case, someone with an open mind. You know how she is--if anyone can find a hole in Evans's story, she would be the one." Lyle knew that Adrian would be attracted to that argument.

"You can have her for one week, but I don't want any more time than that wasted on something as idiotic as this."

Gina Marotti was a thirty-five-year-old Italian woman who was divorced and had two teenage children. She had straight black hair that fell just past her ears, dark-brown eyes, a good figure, and a raspy, incisive voice. Within the department, she had a reputation for being thorough and shrewd; because of that, she had not been involved in the initial investigation of the Breen murder since it had been deemed too simple for her talents. After his talk with Adrian, Lyle gave her everything he had that was connected to the case, and she spent an entire afternoon at her desk as she rapidly read through the evidentiary reports, the various statements that had been given to the police at the time of the murder, the court testimony, and finally, the taped recording of Shawn's conversation with Lyle.

Early the next morning, they met. Gina, crisp and aggressive, was sipping on a large cup of coffee while they talked. "At this point," she said, "I haven't found anything to contradict what Evans said. There's a couple of grey areas that I'll talk about later, but I thought this might help you." She reached over and handed Lyle a piece of paper on which was written.

THE SHAWN EVANS TIMELINE

11:35--JEREMY LEAVES NORTON'S. THIS WOULD BE BAR TIME--WE SHOULD ASSUME THAT THE ACTUAL TIME IS 11:25.

11:42--SHAWN ENTERS THE BREEN HOUSE THROUGH THE BACK DOOR AND DRINKS THE TWO BEERS.

12:00 JEREMY ARRIVES. (If he left the bar at 11:25, this is possible--assuming he drove the secondary roads at 50 mph and the interstate at 105. And if he drove at 60 and 115, he would have arrived at 11:56. )

12:01:15--JEREMY GOES UPSTAIRS TO HIS MOTHER'S BEDROOM.

12:02:45--KAREN BREEN COMES RUNNING DOWN THE STAIRS WITH JEREMY CHASING HER.

12:04:15--SHAWN HEARS A SCREAM FROM THE WOODS BEHIND THE HOUSE.

12:05:45--JEREMY RUNS BACK TO THE HOUSE WITH THE BLOODY KNIFE.

12:06:15--SHAWN AND JEREMY ENTER THE GARAGE AND CUT THE PLASTIC.

12:08:00--THE TWO OF THEM LEAVE THE GARAGE--JEREMY TO DRIVE HIS MOTHER'S CAR AROUND TO THE MURDER SITE, WHILE SHAWN WALKS THROUGH THE HOUSE, WITH THE KNIFE AND PLASTIC, TO REACH THE BODY.

12:08:45--JEREMY ARRIVES AT THE MURDER SITE.

12:11:30--JEREMY AND SHAWN WRAP THE VICTIM'S BODY IN THE PLASTIC AND PLACE HER INTO THE TRUNK OF HER CAR.

12:12:15--JEREMY RETURNS TO THE HOUSE AND SHOWERS.

12:16:30--JEREMY AND SHAWN LEAVE THE MURDER SITE IN HIS MOTHER'S CAR. (AS FOR THE CLOTHES HE WAS WEARING DURING THE MURDER, I THINK JEREMY WOULD HAVE HIDDEN THEM SOMEWHERE IN HIS PARENT'S HOUSE AND DISPOSED OF THEM LATER.)

12:20:30--JEREMY AND SHAWN REACH THE DUMPSTER AT JAMESON'S AND THROW KAREN BREEN'S BODY INTO IT.

12:23:30--JEREMY AND SHAWN LEAVE JAMESON'S.

12:27:30--JEREMY ARRIVES HOME.

12:30--JEREMY CALLS 911.

12:43:00--SHAWN ARRIVES AT HURON ELECTRONIC AND PLANTS THE BLOOD EVIDENCE IN DANA BREEN'S CAR.

12:50:00--SHAWN LEAVES HURON ELECTRONICS.

"So you think what Shawn said is possible?" Lyle said to Gina.

"Yes, time wise--but it's fairly close. I do have a few problems with what Evans said, as well as some things that need to be investigated. First of all, in the Evans scenario, there is no explanation for the ransacking of Selena Breen's room. One can take it for an absolute certainty that Jeremy Breen had no time for any extracurricular activities, and furthermore, Selena's room is completely beside the point. Notice that Evans said he once dated Selena Breen. _Once dated._ We'll have to talk to her, but given Evans's character, I'd say it's much more likely that she broke up with him than the other way around."

"So if Evans trashed her room, he must have done it before Jeremy arrived."

"Yes, but he never mentioned anything about it in his confession."

"Has it occurred to you," said Lyle, "that Shawn might have been the one who murdered Karen Breen?"

"It's something that we'll have to look at if we're really going to pursue this, but I think it's very unlikely."

"I agree, but what are your reasons?"

"Remember, the time window for Evans is also very thin. Dana Breen said he didn't leave the house until eleven-forty, and Jeremy arrived around twelve twenty-five, at the very latest. That doesn't give Evans much time, and if he committed the murder, how did he dispose of the body? According to him, he arrived on a motorcycle."

"He could have borrowed a car."

"It's possible, but I think the blood in Dana's car exonerates him."

Lyle was playing devil's advocate. "Even though Evans said he was the one who put it there?"

"On Jeremy's instructions. Shawn Evans isn't going to think of that on his own. What would be his motive--assuming he acted independently of Jeremy? However, there is something about the blood in the car that bothers me, Lyle."

Gina took out a copy of Shawn's confession and read the following part to Lyle: "'How did you get into the parking lot?'

"'I didn't want to use the main entrance, so I parked behind the building and scaled the chain-link fence.'

"'What road did you park on?'

"'No idea--I'm not familiar with that area at all.'

"'How close did you park to the fence?'

"'I don't honestly remember...If you drive me out there, I can show you where I parked and where I went over the fence.'"

Gina put the transcript down and said, "That doesn't sound very believable to me."

"Why not?"

"My impression is that he hadn't thought he'd be asked any of those questions. I doubt he's ever been near Huron Electronics, so he just made his answers up on the fly. If we drive him out there, he can show us. Well--of course!"

"But he knew there was a chain link fence around the place."

"He probably heard about it from someone."

"That's the kind of thing Evans might remember," said Lyle. "He's one of those guys who thinks factories are prisons, so if somebody had mentioned that Huron Electronics was surrounded by a six-foot chain link fence, he probably wouldn't forget it."

"Or he could have driven by there sometime in the past. My point is that I don't think he was at Huron Electronics that night because there's something about the whole car scenario that is just too weird to be true. And then there's the key that he supposedly used to open the trunk of Dana Breen's car--weren't both sets discovered at the Breen house?"

"One of them--the other was on Dana Breen when he was arrested."

"Have you checked out whether it's possible to copy a key for Dana Breen's car without going through the car dealership?"

"I did that yesterday afternoon. Breen's car was a 2004 Saturn Ion, and I went to the Saturn place and had a key for one of their cars duplicated at Mason's Hardware."

"And?"

"And I opened up the trunk with it."

"When we talk with Evans," said Gina, "I'm going to spring that one on him--I'll tell him that there's no way the key could be made without going through the dealership and that they have no record of it."

"Here's what bothers me," said Lyle. "According to Evans, the dumpster idea came from him, but why wouldn't Jeremy have thought of someplace to hide his mother's body?"

"Simple--since Jeremy had planted the blood evidence in his father's car, the discovery of the body could only help him."

"How so?" asked Lyle.

"If he's trying to frame his father, he wouldn't have wanted a missing body because Dana Breen could--and did--claim that she had disappeared."

"Then why throw her in the dumpster?"

"Just like Evans said--trace DNA evidence. If Jeremy actually fought with his mother, and it appears from what Evans said that he did, then there almost undoubtedly would have been some of his DNA on her body."

"You really believe, ten minutes after the murder, that Evans is going to think of something like trace DNA?"

"Shawn seems to be a master of self-preservation," said Gina, "and he would have been smart enough to realize that if we ever arrested Jeremy Breen, it wouldn't have been good for him."

Although the Evans version of events seemed convincing, Lyle and Gina decided that before they committed themselves, they would wait for the DNA test on the beer bottles. In the meantime, they would let the case slide, except for conducting two interviews. The first would be with Shawn where they would ask him about Selena's room and his trip to Huron Electronics. The second would be with Selena Breen--both of them felt that she would be able to shed considerable light on Shawn Evans. The problem with Selena would be finding a legitimate reason to ask her questions about him.

## CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

## "HAVEN'T YOU EVER HEARD OF CAT BURGLERS?"

Two days later, Gina and Lyle met with Shawn who was edgy, impatient, and combative. "I shouldn't talk to you anymore. My lawyer says that I'm crazy to do this without a signed agreement."

"Just a couple of questions, Shawn," said Lyle. "I guarantee you that if your DNA matches the DNA on the beer bottles, things will change."

"Why is it that I'm always the one who has to make concessions?"

"Fine, don't talk to us," said Gina. To Lyle's surprise, she stood up and seemed to be about to leave the room, but before she did, she turned back towards Shawn and said, "Who are you, anyways? You're just a drug addict and petty thief who's trying to impress us by admitting that you were an accessory to a murder. And you expect us to make concessions?" Glaring at him, she said, "Probably the best thing you could do is to follow your lawyer's advice and keep your mouth shut because what you said to Lyle doesn't make much sense to me."

"Like what, for instance?" said Shawn defiantly.

"You do realize," said Gina as she sat down, "that Selena's room was ransacked that night."

"Of course I do," said Shawn nonchalantly. "I ought to--I was the one who did it."

"When?" said Gina.

"Before Jeremy arrived."

"You're forgetting something, Mr. Evans. Karen Breen was still alive then."

Shawn looked at Lyle and said, "Where did you pick her up? At the flea market?"

Gina slammed her palm down on the table. Before Shawn could say anything, she said, "You're totally at our mercy, Mr. Evans. If what you've told us turns out to be false, we'll be charging you with another crime and tacking a couple of more years onto your sentence. Nobody in their right mind would believe--"

"It happened!" said Shawn, in an angry voice. "I don't care whether you believe me or not, so why don't you find someone else to insult. I have plenty of other options than talking to the likes of you."

"Mr. Evans," said Gina, in a more restrained voice, "if your account of what happened that night is true, we can charge you with being an accessory to murder."

Shawn laughed contemptuously. "I was not an accessory to murder. I didn't even know he was going to murder her."

In a mocking tone, Gina said, "You did help Jeremy throw his mother into the dumpster. Right?"

"Listen to me for once in your life--I had no idea that he was planning to murder his mother that night."

"But I presume she was dead when you tossed her into the dumpster?"

"I certainly hope so--that wouldn't be the best way to die."

"So, at best, you're an accessory after the fact, and as far as the legal penalties go, there's not all that much difference between after the fact and before the fact."

"Look," said Shawn to Lyle, "forget it. I was only trying to help Dana Breen because there's no reason that he should have to spend the rest of his life in prison for something that Jeremy did."

"Really?" Gina said. "So that's why you put the blood into the trunk of his car?"

"That's totally irrelevant. You're just threatening me because you're trying to defend your investigation of Jeremy's father."

Gina, who was obviously trying to frighten him, continued with her threats. "We can also charge you with obstruction of justice for planting the blood evidence, and if we do, you won't be leaving prison until you're forty."

"I guess you're just not interested in what I have to say. That's the way cops are--once they accuse someone of a crime, they don't listen to reason anymore. Both of you--you're just jokes. Here you are accusing me of throwing an innocent man in prison, and all you're trying to do is save yourselves by throwing Dana Breen under the bus."

Lyle had to admit to himself that this was at least partly true, but Gina wasn't letting up. "I'm going to tell you something, Mr. Evans, and you had better listen carefully to what I'm about to say. The amount of time you spend in prison will depend on the truthfulness of what you've told us, as well as any further statements that you make. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I understand that, but what you don't seem to understand is that I have told you the truth. And really, if you want to talk about obstruction of justice, you might want to take a look in the mirror. Dana Breen had nothing to do with the murder of Jeremy's mother."

"OK," said Gina, "let's take a look at your story. You said earlier that Selena's room was ransacked while her mother was still alive."

"Yes--what happened is that I came into the house, had a beer, and then went upstairs to Selena's room. I had the second beer after I came down from her room."

"Why is it that you never mentioned this in your statement to Lyle?"

"Never thought of it--besides, I don't like talking about Selena, so keep her out of it."

"And your reason for vandalizing her room?" said Gina, in her raspy, confrontational voice.

"Payback."  
"For what?"

"Listen to me--I'm not going to talk about her. Would you like me to spell that out letter by letter?"

"Didn't it worry you," said Gina, "that Jeremy's mother might hear you?"

"When?"

"While you were in Selena's room."

"Haven't you ever heard of cat burglars? Her door was closed--"

"Whose door?"

"Her mother's--and Selena's room is on the opposite side of the corridor about twenty feet down. You probably looked at what happened in Selena's room and decided that whoever did it must have made a lot of noise. But it doesn't always work that way because I can be very stealthy when it suits my ends."

"Let's talk about your trip to Huron Electronics on the night of the murder," said Gina. "You say you climbed the chain-link fence to enter the parking lot?"

"That's what I said."

"And you drove there on your motorcycle?"

"Yes."

"Which you parked where?"

"I talked about this with Lyle. I don't remember exactly where I left it--OK? A lot of things happened that night."

"Did you park it on a road?"

"Sure--I left it on the white line in the middle of the road. Man, these questions are just so incredibly stupid."

Gina was like a freight train. "How far off the road was it?"

"A few feet."

"By trees? By a field? By houses?"

"It was pitch black out and I was nervous, so I wasn't paying any attention to things like houses and trees. Why don't you try asking me a question about what happened inside the Breen house on the night of the murder?"

"If you expect a plea deal, Mr. Evans, you are going to have to answer the questions I put to you--take it or leave it. So where did you park your motorcycle?"

"How should I know? There weren't any side streets nearby--I can tell you that."

"How far was it from where you left the motorcycle to the chain-link fence?"

"According to my tape measure, it was six hundred and twenty-seven feet."

Gina glared at him, and looking at Lyle, she said, "I don't believe a single thing that he's said to us."

"Look," said Shawn, "I couldn't even begin to tell you the exact distance. It might have been a quarter of a mile, but that's just a guess. Like I said to Lyle--if you drive me out there, I can show you where I left the bike. What difference does it make?"

"Because, Mr. Evans," said Gina, "you sound like someone who's describing a place that he's never been to."

"You're close--that was only the second time in my life that I ever saw Huron Electronics so that's why I can't remember it very well."

"Then how did you know the way there?"

"Huron Electronics? Everybody knows where it is, and before you ask me any questions about the chain-link fence, Jeremy was the one who told me about it."

"On the night of the murder?" said Gina, in a skeptical tone of voice.

"Yes, that night, that very night, that exact same night."

"Alright, Mr. Evans," said Gina, "as I understand it, you opened Dana Breen's trunk with a set of car keys that Jeremy had given you. Is that correct?"

"No, it wasn't a set of keys."

"A single key?" said Gina accusingly.

"Yes."

"That's impossible!" said Gina.

Shawn laughed and looked at Lyle. "Now what?" he said.

"Mr. Evans," said Gina, "we recovered both sets of keys to Dana Breen's car, and neither set was missing any keys."

"Since Jeremy gave me a single key, it's obvious that he must have had a copy made."

"No, you can't make copies of car keys--at least not the car that Dana Breen owned."

"You can't make copies of a car key? What happens when people lose them? Is that the end--they just have to junk their car?"

"No, but you can't take a key to the hardware store and have it duplicated."

Shawn appeared to be bored. Laughing, he said, "I give up--what do you do?"

"You have to go to the dealership, give them the VIN number, and fill out paperwork proving that you own the car."

"I guess that's what Jeremy did," said Shawn.

"There's no record of it--nothing."

"Maybe Jeremy used the internet and ordered it from the manufacturer," said Shawn.

"No, Mr. Evans, Saturn has no record of anything like that, and those records go back into the 1990's. So tell me--how did Jeremy come up with the car key?"

"The only thing I can think of," said Shawn in a mocking voice, "is that Jeremy must be a magician. All I know is that he handed me the key to his father's car that night, and when I used it to open the trunk, it worked."

After a long pause, Gina said, "That's enough for today, Mr. Evans. I want to remind you again that if we discover you've been lying to us, you'll be doing a lot more than five years in prison."

Shawn looked at her impassively and said, "Then if I'm telling the truth, I should receive considerably less than the five years."

"Mr. Evans--"

"I know--it doesn't work that way. Like you said, I'm totally at your mercy, and you don't have any mercy or sense of fairness. None--absolutely none. I'm the one who has to give, give, give--and all you do is take, take, take."

Lyle didn't think it was wise to be so confrontational with Shawn. "Give us another week or two, Shawn. By then, we'll have the DNA test on the beer bottles, and if that comes back positive for you, everything will change."

"It better because there are things that I can do if you people won't cooperate with me."

"Like what?" said Gina.

"Like you're going to find every word I said to you on the front page of the Lancaster Times. How's that for mercy?"

Now, it was Lyle who lost his temper. "Listen to me, Evans. If that happens, I will go to the prosecutor and have him throw the book at you. Maybe you think I'm bluffing? How does being tried as an habitual offender sound?"

"Sounds like you're bluffing," said Shawn.

## CHAPTER NINETEEN: "MY MOTHER WAS JUST A MONSTER."

The next day, they talked with Selena, and this time, it was Lyle who did most of the talking. "Selena," he said, "the reason we've asked you to come down here is that we've received some new information concerning your mother's murder. But before I begin, I want to stress to you that we consider this information to be nothing more than a wild rumor, and I would appreciate it if you would tell no one of our conversation."

"What kind of information?" Selena had a pleasant, playful voice.

"I can't say exactly, but for the sake of everyone, including your father, it's important to keep this conversation to ourselves." Although it was a blatant lie to say that secrecy helped Dana, Lyle continued to be terrified of what would happen if anything relating to Shawn's statement became public.

"So you don't think my father did it?" Very astute!

"No, that's not what I'm saying--we're simply reviewing the case and felt it might be helpful to talk to you."

"You don't think I did it, do you?" This was said with a merry twinkle in her eye.

"No, of course not, but Gina and I have been interested in something you said during the sentencing phase of your father's trial." To Lyle, this seemed the safest way to venture into these waters. "What you said was that 'I have my suspicions about what happened that night, but I can't prove anything.' Can you tell us what you meant by that?"

Suddenly, as if a dark cloud had passed over the sun, Selena became quite serious, almost dour. "No...I don't know."

"Don't know what?" said Gina.

"There was always one thing that bothered me," said Selena as she looked down at her carefully polished nails.

"Listen, Selena," said Lyle, "trust is a two-way street. What you say to us isn't going anywhere unless it's backed by absolute, irrefutable proof. In a case like this, twenty people may tell us about something that bothered them, and almost every time, it will turn out to be nothing significant. But occasionally, some person's comment can be the key that will crack open a case."

"But you've already solved the case."

"True...but we're looking--I can't tell you what we're looking for. What is it that bothered you? Did your father say something to you?"

"No--it was my room."

"What about your room?"

"Just the way that it had been trashed. I've always had a suspicion as to who did that."

"You have?"

"Yes--Shawn Evans."

For an instant, Lyle and Gina locked eyes. Bingo! "Why did you suspect him?" asked Lyle.

"Because when they let me back into my room, I thought that the person who was responsible for the damage had done it to intimidate or humiliate me. I know you guys assumed my mother and father had fought in there, but that's what I felt."

"What made you feel that way?" asked Lyle.

"Actually, it was just one thing. I still had a framed photograph of Shawn and myself from high school on my dresser, and it had an X slashed across my face. It was fairly faint--more like a scratch than a slash, but the moment I saw it, I thought Shawn had probably done it because that's just like something he would do. The reason I never said anything about it was because he never would have murdered my mother, and unlike some people, I'm not one to jump to conclusions and make false accusations." Selena was smiling when she said this, but it wasn't a friendly smile.

"Selena," said Lyle, "let's go back--when did you meet Shawn?"

"We met," said Selena in a dreamy way, "in 2001--we were juniors in high school then."

"Did you have a romantic relationship?" Gina asked .

"Romantic? That must be a euphemism for sex. Yes, it was my first sexual relationship, and it was very intense. I can't believe that my parents didn't find out about the two of us until I became pregnant because Shawn and I just...every chance we could, everywhere we were, unless there wasn't an absolute eyewitness. Sometimes, I think the summer between my junior and senior year in high school will be the high point of my life. I don't see how anything could be better than that."

"Then what happened?" said Lyle.

"During senior year, Shawn fell in love with alcohol and cocaine. I was worried about other women, but he hardly had enough time for me, much less someone else. I guess the thrill had worn off for him, but I was crushed when I broke up with him--I don't know if I'll ever love anyone the way that I loved him."

"When did you break up with him?"

"About a month before I went to college. He was a mess by then because he had started doing coke, and on top of that, there was the abortion--that certainly didn't help our relationship."

"You became pregnant by him?"

"Yes--the abortion happened about a week after I graduated from high school. My mother was just a monster--she was demanding that I have the baby and that if I didn't want to live with Shawn, I could put it up for adoption. No thank you! I have better things to do with my life than hatch babies for adoption centers. We have about three billion too many people on this earth as it is."

"So you had the abortion?"

"Yes, my father gave me the money. For a while, I thought I would have to come up with the money on my own. I think my Dad always wanted me to have the abortion, but he had to duck around because of my mother."

"And Shawn? How did he feel about it?"

"No problem there, except that he didn't have any money. When I told him I was pregnant, he said, 'You're not going to have the thing, are you?'"

"Did it affect your relationship?"

"Not that much--maybe it helped me realize that I could never take him seriously as any kind of life partner. I'm not really that ambitious, but I'd like to lead a comfortable life, and Shawn would have bled me dry with his self-indulgence. So I cut him loose."

"And how did he react to that?"

"With a temper tantrum. I was surprised, actually, because by that point, he didn't seem to care that much about me. I think it was just his male ego--you know, he had been shot down, and who was I to shoot _him_ down. He wasn't violent, but he said a lot of hurtful things for a week or so. After that, he went on this reformation trip that lasted till the day after I left for college--or so I heard."

"Did you see much of him while you were in college?"

"Very little, at least until the summer after I graduated--that would have been in 2005."

"And?"

"I was a mite drunk that night," said Selena, with her pleasant laugh, "and we started dancing and drinking shots of tequila. I should have known better but..." there was a whimsical smile on her face.

"What happened?" asked Gina.

"As the movies would say, we tried to rekindle the flame."

"How long did it last?"

"About a week. By that time, I could see that he hadn't changed. Jeremy was right about that."

"He said something to you?" said a suddenly curious Lyle.

"He kept telling me to stay away from Shawn because he was nothing but trouble."

"This would have been around the time of your father's trial?"

"Just after, I think."

"And you haven't seen Shawn since?"

"I've seen him," she said with a laugh, "but I'm certainly not seeing him, if that's what you're asking. My, my, I didn't realize this was going to be a question and answer session on my sex life."

"No," said Gina, "that's not what we really wanted to talk to you about. I'm just going to ask you a question that might seem a little strange, but I'd like to hear what you have to say."

"Alright."

"Do you think that your brother could have been involved in your mother's murder?"

## CHAPTER TWENTY: HE DOES KNOW HOW TO GAME THE SYSTEM

Both Gina and Lyle were experienced detectives who had seen many unusual things, but they were completely unprepared for Selena's reaction. For a moment, she looked at them with a wide-eyed, astonished stare, and then she burst into a long spell of uncontrollable laughter. Finally, as she gasped between waves of mirth, Selena said, "You've got to be kidding--I must have stepped into a Candid Camera stunt. That's just such a completely clueless thing to say. My Mom was Jeremy's guaranteed meal ticket until the day he died, if not beyond. Murder her? It's more likely Jeremy would have built her a pyramid on her birthday. Don't tell me that's the new information you're talking about? Wow! Who was the joker that put that hallucination into your heads?"

Lyle, somewhat taken aback by the intensity--and perhaps accuracy--of Selena's outburst, said, "All we're doing is going over some things about this case that still puzzle us."

"Well," said Selena, who was now making an attempt to suppress her laughter, "it's a puzzle to me how you could accuse Jeremy. You two must know next to nothing about the dynamics of our family to say such a bizarre thing. And it's not like I'm in love with Jeremy or anything, but he and my mother worshipped each other."

"Worshipped?" said Gina.

"There wasn't anything wrong with it," said Selena, who suddenly appeared to be angry. "I'm not talking about anything sexual, so if that's what you thought I meant, forget it. Why does everybody have to turn everything into something sexual?"

Looking at Selena, Lyle could understand how that could happen when people were around her.

"Anyways," continued Selena, "since you don't approve of the word worship, I'll just say that they had a lot of respect and admiration for each other."

"How did you feel about your mother?" Gina asked.

"I didn't like her all that much, to be honest with you. She was too prissy for me, and like I said earlier, she put me through the wringer when she found out I was pregnant."

"And you still don't think," said Lyle, "that your father was involved with your mother's murder?"

"No, I don't," said Selena emphatically. "God, I'm glad I have a good alibi, or you'd end up accusing me--although, now that I think of it, I could have flown into town that night and done the deed. Gee, you guys really are grasping at straws when you start accusing Jeremy. That's the looniest thing I've ever heard in my life, but I'm only twenty-three, so maybe that accounts for it. Jeremy! Maybe I'll get the mother of all shocks, and God will call me on my cell phone and ask me out on a date." Once again, Selena burst into laughter.

"How about Shawn?" said Gina, who was annoyed by Selena's cavalier attitude.

"Do I think Shawn could have murdered my mother?"

"Yes."

"I doubt it very much, but certainly, unlike Jeremy, it's within the realm of possibility. But what would be his motive? He didn't have any ax to grind with my mother--in fact, he hardly even recognized her existence when we were going at it hot and heavy. I mean..." she paused and seemed to reflect on something. "At least I can see why you might think he had something to do with it because if he did put the X over my face in the photograph, then that means he was there that night. So...did my mother catch him in my room? And did he snap? I should have thought of this before my father's trial, but still...I don't think Shawn would ever have murdered my mother. And really, as far as the photograph goes, I'm not at all sure he was the one who put the mark on it because when it comes to Shawn, I have a very paranoid imagination."

"You were at your father's trial?" asked Gina.

"Yes, I had just graduated from college, and I heard every word of it."

"So you know about the blood that was discovered in your father's car?"

"Yes, and to this day, that puzzles me. I talked to my father about it, and..." once again, Selena became reflective.

"What did he say?"

"That he didn't put my mother into the trunk of his car."

"But--"

"Yes, I know it doesn't seem possible that anyone else could have done it. I've thought about this for ages, and I can't come up with any explanation. But one thing's for sure--if my father didn't murder my mother, then someone else did put my mother into the trunk of his car."

"Why are you so sure that your father is innocent?" asked Lyle.

"Actually, I'm not positive--maybe ninety-eight percent. And the two percent is because of the blood evidence. Now listen to me--you might say that if Jeremy was a Mama's boy, I was Daddy's girl, but I'm warning you," she said pointing her finger at Gina, "not to interpret that as anything sexual. Keep those thoughts to yourself. Don't even try to go there because if you do, I'll walk out of here. It was just the way our family worked, and there was nothing wrong or unnatural about it. I was actually somewhat jealous of my mother's favoritism towards Jeremy, and I'm sure he was jealous the other way around. It was nothing exceptional--there's always something in every family that doesn't fit into the norm, but taken as a whole, Jeremy and I had a healthy upbringing."

"Your father told you that he was innocent?" said Lyle, who found these digressions of Selena wearisome.

"Many times. I didn't think he murdered my mother from the moment I first heard he had been arrested, but after talking to him, I had no doubts. To me, my father was very, very believable, and I am virtually certain that he didn't murder my mother."

"But you think it's possible that Shawn was involved?"

"There's a cute word that covers up a lot of sins. Involved! I don't know how many times my mother asked me if I was involved with Shawn Evans. Ha! Anyways, once my father was convicted, I began to feel that the X'd out photograph showed that Shawn might have been there the night it happened, and although I have no idea why he would have murdered my mother, I suppose it's possible--maybe he was looped out on drugs. And as for Jeremy--for your own sake, I would toss that one into the shredder."

"Was Shawn a violent person?" said Gina. "Did you have any trouble with him that way?"

"No, not at all. However, Shawn could be nasty when his feelings were hurt--he said some really crazy things to me after we broke up the second time."

"The summer of 2005?"

"Yes, he told me that it was all Jeremy's fault. It was so weird to hear him talk that way because he and Jeremy had always been like brothers. It's true that Jeremy had told me that I ought to break up with him, but that only caused me to consider giving Shawn another chance."

"Why's that?" asked Lyle.

"Because I don't like listening to know-it-all lectures from my big brother, and most of the time, I end up doing exactly the opposite of what he tells me to do. Drives him crazy. But after I thought it over, I came to my own decision and dumped Shawn--Jeremy didn't have anything to do with it."

"Tell us about your brother," Gina said. "How would you describe him?"

"Smart, kind of aloof, likes to go his own way, but he does know how to game the system." Selena laughed. "Now don't take that to mean I think he could have murdered my mother. Where you ever came up with that lulu, I can't even begin to imagine. Not in a million years would Jeremy have done something like that. I mean the chances are zip, zero, nil, nada. And it's not because he's my brother that I'm saying this. I don't even like him that much. He's kind of an intellectual snob--the type of guy who always thinks that he knows more than everyone else because he has all these daffy ideas about the universe. The Cosmic Kid. But murder my mother? What planet do you two go home to when you leave here, or do you remain in orbit?"

"Look," said Gina, who didn't appreciate Selena's sarcasm, "we never said your brother murdered your mother, so don't you dare walk out of here and tell anyone that we said that."

"Don't worry, I won't because I can certainly understand why you'd want me to keep that one buttoned up. Wait a second--what's the matter with you people?--Jeremy couldn't possibly have murdered my mother. He was playing guitar at Norton's until midnight that night. What did he do--take a jet plane and parachute in?"

"Actually," said Gina, "he left there around 11:25."

Selena looked at them with a sense of angry wonder. "There you go! All he'd need then is a helicopter, and the best part of that idea is he might have been able to land it in the back yard. Did you check for helicopter footprints?" Clearly upset, Selena punctuated these remarks with a spiteful laugh.

It was Gina who reacted first. "If I were you, Ms. Breen, I would treat these questions with a great deal more respect than what you've shown so far."

"And why should I do that?"

"Because your answers could help your brother."

"I'm sorry--I see your point. I never should have mentioned the helicopter because now I've probably proven to you that Jeremy could have done this. My bad."

"Selena," said Lyle, "are you aware of any speeding tickets that Jeremy received over the past few years."

"Like two hundred miles per hour?"

"Are you aware of them or not?" said Gina.

"No, I'm not. What are you people trying to do, anyways?"

"All we're trying to do," said Gina, "is tie up a few loose ends."

"Tie up some loose ends? You've got my father tied up in knots, and now you're going after Jeremy. I don't get it--I thought you were convinced my father was the one who did it."

"We are," said Lyle smoothly. "But he's appealing his conviction, and since Jeremy was the one who discovered what happened that night, we want to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?"

"It's possible that since Jeremy was the first one on the scene, your father might claim that he was involved in the murder." Lyle was, of course, just trying to throw Selena off the scent.

"You're joking, right? My father has never suggested anything like that to me. And even if his lawyers were to come up with that idea, he would never allow them to use that as part of his appeal. What you're saying is totally absurd. _Jeremy did not kill my mother_ "

"Selena--" said Gina.

"Do you think I could leave now? To tell you the truth, I'm having a lot of difficulty believing that you two are really cops. Don't worry--I won't tell anyone, including Jeremy, about your new theory, or whatever it is, but if you don't want to be laughed out of existence, I would advise you to go out and dig a six-hundred-foot hole and drop everything we said into oblivion because it's nothing but nonsense."

"Alright," said Lyle, "you're free to go."

For the next two weeks, Lyle and Gina worked on the case intermittingly as they waited for the DNA test on the beer bottles. Had Lyle been a religious man, he would have prayed night and day that Shawn's DNA would not match the DNA on the beer bottles. Since he was merely a lukewarm atheist, he was reduced to fervently wishing, but his hopes and dreams were all for naught. Twelve days after the conversation with Selena, the state lab confirmed that Shawn Evans had been the one who drank the beer in the beer bottles. Now what?

## CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: MERCEDES BREEN

Jeremy, of course, knew nothing about the uproar that was swirling around his name within the police department. Lyle had checked his criminal background and found nothing on his record except for three speeding tickets that had occurred two years before the murder. The first ticket was nothing special--forty-five mph in a thirty-mph zone, but the second two were real eye-openers. On June 13th, 2003, he had been stopped on the interstate where his speed had been clocked at one hundred and seven mph. The second one, a month later, was even worse--one hundred and fifteen miles per hour. This certainly confirmed Shawn's claim that Jeremy was capable of driving at very high speeds.

About a week before the DNA test came back, Lyle had gone to Jameson's Restaurant and thoroughly investigated everything relating to the dumpster. He learned that, for as long as anyone could remember, it was emptied around 11 A.M every morning and that it was placed in a spot where it was not visible from the street that ran in front of the restaurant. He also discovered that the two restaurants using the dumpster closed at 10 P.M., which meant the area around the dumpster would be deserted at 12:20 A.M. The next morning, Lyle had watched the dumpster from 10 A.M until it was emptied an hour later, and around ten-thirty, an employee from Jameson's, obviously a cook or dishwasher, had emptied two large buckets of trash and spoiled food into it. Lyle could see that even if Karen Breen had not been wrapped in the plastic and was lying on top of the rubbish inside the dumpster, she probably wouldn't have been noticed--at least not by the dejected, angry-looking guy that Lyle had seen.

Lyle waited until the garbage truck arrived to empty the dumpster and saw that it was done mechanically with very little human interaction--the truck simply attached a cable to the dumpster and lifted it off the ground before its contents were tilted into the back of the truck. Once the dumpster had been returned to the ground, the new wave of garbage was swept into the interior of the truck and compressed. Lyle had dutifully followed the garbage truck to the town dump, but it had only taken him a couple of minutes to come to the obvious realization that if the compressed remains of Karen Breen had been unloaded onto one of the rank piles of garbage that continually proliferated the dump, she would have long since been bulldozed into oblivion.

Later that day, Lyle discovered another significant piece of evidence against Jeremy. Because of Shawn's claim that Jeremy had given him $2,000, he checked through Jeremy's financial transactions in 2004. It had taken Lyle almost two days to gather the paper trail that existed for Jeremy's two credit cards, his checking account, and a savings account, but what he found was a potential game changer. On August 25th, 2004, two weeks before the murder, he had withdrawn $2,000 from his savings account. In his confession, Shawn said that Jeremy had given him the two thousand dollars on the day of the murder, and it wasn't hard to conclude that a clever person would want to withdraw the money well before the event occurred. It was also puzzling to Lyle that there had been a five-thousand-dollar deposit to Jeremy's account on July 12th. Not only that, on September 10th, 2004, Shawn had deposited $1,500 dollars into his own account.

After these discoveries, Gina and Lyle spent the better part of a day with Shawn. First, they drove him to North Lancaster to see if he could identify the place where he went over the chain-link fence. Although he had seemed confused about this when he was interrogated earlier, he became more confident as they approached Huron Electronics. "I never spent much time in this town," he said, in a friendly tone. "Too industrial. But now that I'm here, it's beginning to look familiar."

Gina, who was sitting in the passenger seat, looked at Lyle and mouthed a contemptuous two-syllable swear word to express her skepticism at Shawn's "beginning to look familiar." From behind them, Shawn said, "Bear right and slow down, will you? This didn't happen yesterday. We're on the right road though--I can remember that large white house over there. How can anyone afford something like that?"

Shortly later, they drove by a small pond, and Shawn told them to park the car. As the three of them walked down the road, Shawn said, "It's somewhere around here, but it's not exactly like I remember it." To the right, they could see the chain-link fence--perhaps sixty or seventy feet away--but it would have been difficult to reach because it was surrounded by thick underbrush. Before long, however, the brush ended, and the three of them walked up to the fence. "If you'd like," he said with a sly grin, "I'll show you how I climbed over it."

"I don't believe you climbed over this fence," said Gina.

Shawn was amused, and in a scoffing way, he said, "Lady, I know you can't climb over it, but that doesn't mean I can't."

Pointing at the fence, Gina said, "Let's see you do it, Mr. Big Man." Lyle knew that Gina was, as usual, testing the truth of his story.

"This is too easy," said Shawn, with a pleasant laugh. Walking up to the fence, he grabbed the links with his hands and clambered over it in an astoundingly short period of time--maybe six or seven seconds. After he was on the other side, he said to Lyle, "I'd make a run for it, but she'd shoot me."

Once he had rejoined them, Shawn looked at Gina and said, "Would you like me to demonstrate how I threw the bag of bloody rags over the fence?"

Back at the station from their safari to North Lancaster, they talked to Shawn about Jeremy and Selena. "When did you meet Jeremy?" Gina asked him.

"A week or so after I met Selena."

"This was in high school?"

"Junior year for Selena and me--Jeremy was a sophomore at college."

"You broke up with Selena just before the murder--right?"

"A couple of months before--she'd been accepted to college, and once that happened, she didn't want anything to do with me. Her basic goals in life are to marry a rich guy, travel to Europe, and complain about people on welfare."

"Didn't you also break up with her in the summer of 2005?"

"What of it?"

"Why did she break up with you?" asked Gina, in her accusatory voice.

"Who knows? I guess I wasn't good enough for her, but if you'd really like to know the answer to that question, then you should ask her."

"Did Jeremy have anything to do with it?"

"With what?" said Shawn in a harsh tone.

"With the break-up."

Shawn laughed. "Not likely."

"And why is that?"

"Because no one can tell Selena Breen what to do--and if they try, they'll be slapped in the face."

"So let's talk about Jeremy," said Lyle. "How would you describe him?"

"At the time of the murder, we were friends. Back when I first met him, he was on the verge of flunking out of college, and I tried to convince him that he was just wasting his time with all that pretentious academic nonsense. Centers of learning--give me a break! What did Mark Twain say? Something like 'Don't let college get in the way of your education.' Truer words were never said."

Lyle had put two of his kids through college, but he let these observations from a convicted criminal pass without comment. "It appears," he said, "that Jeremy ignored your advice."

"Of course, because his mother had sunk her claws into him and bribed him with the Mercedes."

"Tell us what you know about the car."

"Like I said, Jeremy had almost flunked out sophomore year, and over the summer, his mother made the deal with him."

"And what was the deal?" asked Lyle.

"That if and when he graduated, she'd buy him a Mercedes. I told him not to bargain with her because it was just another version of selling your soul to the devil."

"But Jeremy took the deal?"

"Took it? He leapt at it--that whole family is addicted to money and possessions."

"The last time we talked," said Lyle, "you told us that Jeremy had decided to murder his mother because of a dispute over the car payments."

"That's right. At the time of the murder, Jeremy had been out of school for just over two years, and his mother, ever the materialist, had decided that she didn't want to pay the loan on the car anymore."

"Do you have any idea what the payments were?"

"You're asking me? You must know at least that much by now. For what it's worth, Jeremy told me that it was a five-year loan and the monthly payment was nine hundred dollars a month." (The actual figure was $908.40.) "He was working at that pathetic music store on Burton Street, so there was no way he could come up with that kind of money on his own, and he knew he would have to ditch the car."

"Sell it?"

"Yes, and when he sold it, he wouldn't receive any money from the sale because if the book value was more than what his mother had already paid, then that money would go to her. Jeremy had a bank account, but the best he could have done on his own was a beaten-up ratbox."

"And because of that, he wanted to murder his mother?" said Gina, in a disbelieving voice.

"You don't understand Jeremy," said Shawn with a sarcastic laugh. "He told me it wasn't about the money--it was the principal of the thing. Typical middle-class nonsense. Jeremy doesn't have any principles, especially when he becomes angry, and in reality, the murder was about his wheels. He adored that Mercedes--he was that Mercedes. You might as well call him Mercedes Breen."

"What did he say to you in the weeks leading up to the murder?" asked Lyle.

"About the car payments?"

"Or the murder."

"It didn't happen all at once. It wasn't like Jeremy suddenly said 'I'm going to knife my mother to death.' It started one night in June when he told me that his mother was cutting him off, but he said he wasn't worried about it because he knew he could talk her out of it. But the next time I saw him, he was furious. According to him, his mother was a traitor for going back on her word, and later that night, while we were drinking shots of vodka, he repeated something that John Wilkes Booth had said after he shot Lincoln. I can't remember what it was exactly because it was in a foreign language, but Jeremy told me that it meant death to traitors. I didn't take him seriously because Jeremy was always making threats--it was just his way of blowing off steam."

"What else did he say that night?"

"Not much--he didn't talk about murdering his mother, if that's what you mean."

"But later he did?"

"It was about two weeks before it happened that he first said anything specific to me. However, he never mentioned the word murder--according to him, we were just going to frighten her."

Lyle noticed how careful Shawn was to disassociate himself from the word murder. "And he asked you to help him?"

"Yes. All along, I thought it was just one of his revenge fantasies, but when he offered me the two grand, I decided to play along."

"So the plan was what?" said Gina, in her abrupt, confrontational way. It was difficult for Lyle to tell whether she didn't believe Shawn or was just contemptuous of him personally.

"Supposedly, we would go into his mother's bedroom with masks over our heads and place a knife to her throat. And listen," said Shawn, as he waved his hand dismissively, "don't ask me what good that would have done because I asked him the very same question."

"And what did he say?" asked Lyle.

"Actually, we'd been doing some coke that night, and what he said was that he wanted his mother to realize--afterwards--that it might have been him who attacked her. That way, she'd take it as a warning, but at the same time, she wouldn't be sure that it was him. I told him that would never work because his mother would know who it was. "

"A warning from him?" said Gina.

"That's what he said to me. You've probably never done coke, so you don't know what it can do to a person."

"Around the time of the murder," said Lyle, "were you and Jeremy doing coke together?"

"Every night, man--every night."

"So," said Gina, "when did he decide to murder her?"

"I guess it was a day or two before it happened."

"And you're claiming that he never told you he intended to murder her?"

"No, never. He ambushed me as much as he did his mother."

"You're lying," said Gina.

"Can't you say something original for once in your life? What have I told you that's a lie? If you're going to accuse me of lying, offer some proof."

"So what did Jeremy do?" said Gina, in a contemptuous tone of voice. "March into the house and say that he'd decided to murder her?"

"No--I already told you. I was drinking the second beer when--"

"This was after you had been in Selena's room?"

"Just after--I was almost finished with the second beer when he arrived. I started to walk up the stairs with him, but he stopped me and said, 'Wait here, I'll be back in a minute.'"

"That's it? That's all he said?" asked Lyle.

"No, he said something about wanting to see if his mother was still awake. But you have to realize--or I've realized--that he was lying to me. He was going up there to murder her--I know that now."

"And how do you know that?" said Gina.

"You don't have to be a genius to figure that out. Just the way he chased her down the stairs; just the look he had on his face when he came into the kitchen for the knife; just the way he said 'I'm going to slash the throat of the bitch.' You two don't know what anger's like until you've seen Jeremy Breen lose his temper. I know he's very cool and easy going, but that guy is like a volcano when he erupts.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: AS STRANGE AS IT MIGHT SEEM

Adrian Boone was not happy when Lyle told him that the DNA test on the saliva from the beer bottles had come back positive for Shawn Evans. Cursing, the police chief embroidered his epithet with a gross obscenity. "So what are we supposed to do, Lyle? Kick out the conviction of Dana Breen because of two lousy beer bottles?"

"No, but this is something that can't be overlooked. Gina and I have talked to Evans for hours, and there's nothing that he's told us that is demonstrably false. His whole story fits together." Lyle went on to discuss, once again, the evidence with Adrian, focusing on the blood in the trunk of Dana's car. "When you look at it objectively, the only real evidence against Dana Breen is the blood--there's nothing else."

"There's a lot more than that, Lyle. The guy has no alibi whatsoever, and he was talking to his mistress about getting rid of his wife."

"Adrian--"

"You do realize, don't you, that if this ever comes out, we'll have to retry the case."

"Retry the case?"

"What next?" said Adrian. "Are you really going to sit there and tell me that the son was the one who murdered her?"

"The evidence is pointing in that direction, Adrian, although I'm leaving the door open to the remote possibility that Evans might have been the one who murdered her. We certainly have to consider that the two of them might have been accomplices before the fact as well as after the fact."

"And what does Gina think?"

"She's more skeptical about Evans than I am."

"I'm glad someone has some common sense around here. How come you've fallen in love with Evans?"

"Look, Chief, "said Lyle, who was annoyed by the insult, "Gina thinks his story is possible, and she was also the one who gave me this timeline that proved Evans's story might actually be true." Because Lyle knew that Adrian would react negatively to him, he had brought the timeline, which he handed to his irate boss.

After reading it over quickly, Adrian said, "This is like something out of a late-night movie written by an ex-drug addict who's secretly addicted to coke and hasn't had a good night's sleep since 1990. It might look good on paper, but no sane person could believe that this is what actually happened. If I were on the jury, I'd laugh this sorry thing right out of the courtroom."

"We have to investigate this, Chief. We just can't let it go."

"And why is that?"

"Because Evans's public defender knows about this. And Evans is expecting a deal. If we ignore him, he'll go public."

"I can't believe it--Evans is trying to blackmail us by admitting that he's an accessory to murder." Adrian laughed sarcastically as he tossed the timeline at Lyle as if it were a dead rat.

"That's true," said Lyle as he attempted to catch the timeline, which fluttered to the floor, "but what are we going to do about it?"

"Maybe we could make a deal with him that would inspire him to keep his mouth shut."

Lyle was amazed by Adrian's obstinacy. "And trust Evans?"

"As far as I can tell, you've trusted him since day one," said Adrian.

"Only because the evidence backs him up."

"No it doesn't, Lyle--not at all. You've obviously become bored with your day job, and what we ought to do is make a deal with Evans that's contingent on his remaining silent."

"You don't know Evans like I do, Adrian. You just can't stake your reputation on him."

"My reputation?"

"Of course. If this becomes public knowledge, we'll all have to answer a lot of unpleasant questions."

Adrian thought about this for some seconds. "So what do you propose, Mr. Detective?"

"Let Gina and I look at this for another two or three days. We want to actually do what Evans claimed Jeremy Breen did that night. If we still think his story holds together, then we'll talk to Jeremy and see what he has to say."

"Whatever," said the Chief.

Lyle received permission from the current owners of the Breen house to use it so that he and Gina could reenact the crime, and that night, the two of them used a patrol car to travel to Norton's, the bar where Jeremy had been on the night of the murder. From there, they traveled back to the Breen house by doing sixty-five on the access roads to and from the interstate and one hundred and ten on the interstate--that was as fast as Lyle dared to go. Afterwards, when they parked in the driveway of the Breen house, they saw that the trip--and this included a minute to walk from the bar to the patrol car--had taken them thirty-three minutes. (While they were at Norton's, they had noticed that the clock above the bar was eleven minutes fast, so if Jeremy had left the bar at 11:35 bar time [11:24 actual time], he would have arrived at his house at 11:57. And if he had done 120 mph on the interstate, he would have arrived two minutes and twenty seconds earlier.)

Once at the Breen house, the two of them reenacted Shawn's version of the crime. Following Gina's timeline, they went upstairs to Karen and Dana Breen's bedroom, and with Lyle playing the part of Jeremy while Gina was Karen, they began to play out the scenario. Initially, they found that at nearly every step, it was possible to shave a few seconds off the timeline. Thus, if the start time was exactly midnight, Jeremy could have come running back to the house with the bloody knife at 12:05:15 instead of 12:05:45.

Continuing on, they went to the garage, and after simulating the cutting off of the plastic, Gina carried the imaginary knife and plastic through the house, while Lyle drove the car around to the murder site. Here, instead of gaining time, they lost ten seconds. They also found it unlikely that Gina had allotted enough time to load the dead body into the trunk of the car--at least fifteen seconds.

The next part of the timeline was more difficult to calculate accurately. Since Lyle was being Jeremy, he ran back to the house, went upstairs, and showered. Gina had budgeted four minutes and fifteen seconds for this, which included the time to reach the house from his mother's car as well as the time it would take, after the shower, to return to the car. Assuming Jeremy was running, the total traveling time, to and from the shower, was one minute, so this allowed only three minutes and fifteen seconds for the shower. Although this appeared to be ample time, one had to remember that it would be important for Jeremy to thoroughly dry himself off. And what about his clothes? Since he was showering because of the blood, he would have to be wearing something different afterwards. Because there had, apparently, been no plan to murder his mother with the knife, this meant an unexpected trip to his room, which added at least a minute. And even though Jeremy still kept a room in the house of his parents, had he left any of his clothes there? Or perhaps he had brought some clothes with him, but either way, it seemed certain that he would have had to make a detour to retrieve the clothes he would wear after he had finished showering.

After drying himself off, Lyle pretended to throw the towel and his clothes into a plastic bag and returned to the murder site. Lyle and Gina then drove to Jameson's, which was located 3.8 miles from the murder site. The only realistic way to reach there required that the last 3 miles of this journey be on Main Street, which had a forty-five mph speed limit, and the two detectives thought that anyone, even Jeremy, would not have dared to exceed the speed limit by any significant amount--not with a body in the trunk of the car. Gina had set aside four minutes for this trip--an average speed of fifty-seven mph--and after they had driven up the alley besides Jameson's, the two of them pretended to lift a body out of the trunk of the car and throw it into the dumpster--this took them two minutes and forty seconds, instead of the three minutes on the timeline. Once that was accomplished, there was the three minute and forty second drive back to the Breen house, which was slightly closer to Jameson's than the murder site. Gina had not accounted for the difference in the distances, so this gave Jeremy an additional twenty seconds.

The next morning, Gina and Lyle did the math--in their reenactment of the crime, they had come in only fifteen seconds over budget. Not only that, in Gina's timeline, she had Jeremy arriving back at the house from Jameson's two and a half minutes before he phoned 911, so this meant that Jeremy had an extra two minutes and fifteen seconds to murder his mother and dispose of her body. Going over the scenario carefully, they realized that they had forgotten to include the fact that after Jeremy showered, he would have had to do something with the towel and his bloody clothes. "Jeremy would never have buried his clothes with his mother's body, even if it was in a dumpster," said Gina. "But it would have been relatively easy for him to have hidden these things somewhere in the house--the cellar, the back of a closet, behind a cabinet. Or, as Evans said, he could have used his car to accomplish the same thing, but either way, this would add at least a minute and a fifteen seconds to the timeline."

The final result was that Jeremy could have committed the crime with a minute to spare; however, since Gina and Lyle had started the reenactment at midnight and Jeremy could have arrived as early as 11:55, there was, as strange as it might seem, ample time for him to have committed the murder.

It was, they now knew, time to talk to Jeremy and see if he could explain away Shawn's version of events.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: THE GREAT ONE

Lyle phoned Jeremy and asked him to come by the police station after he finished work. He arrived wearing brown slacks, an expensive grey shirt with silver buttons, and a stylish green corduroy sport coat. Very avant-garde. Gina and Lyle, who had discussed at some length what their approach to him would be, led him towards an interrogation room, but as they were walking down the corridor, Jeremy detoured to the vending machines and bought a bottle of cappuccino. "These things are the bomb," he said, before he popped off the cap and chugged half of it down.

Once they were seated, Lyle said, "I hope you don't mind if we make a tape recording of this conversation?"

"Not at all--I should have bought two of these things," he said as he polished off the rest of the cappuccino.

"Jeremy," said Lyle, "we'd like to ask you a few questions that relate to your mother's murder."

"Really? What about it?" It was obvious to Lyle that he had no knowledge of what Shawn had told them.

Gina had suggested that they start with a few seemingly innocuous questions before they read him his rights. "Jeremy," she said, "after you moved out of your parent's house--when was that, by the way?"

"Two years before my mother was murdered--the summer after I finished college."

"After you moved out did you keep any clothes in your parent's house?"

Jeremy looked at the two of them in astonishment. "What in the world does that have to do with anything?"

Lyle was ready for this reaction. "Jeremy, all we're doing is looking at some things that are related to what happened in your sister's room on the night of the murder."

"Oh--that," he said, with subtle contempt.

"Selena was at college when the murder occurred?"

"Yes--she'd been gone about two weeks."

"Do you have any idea whether she'd left any of her clothes behind?"

"I suppose so, but I don't actually know."

"And you--had you moved all your clothes out by the time of the murder?"

Jeremy was obviously perplexed by the question. "No...not everything. I still kept a few things there because every once in a while, especially during the Christmas holidays, I would sleep over."

"This would include clothes?"

"This is so bizarre," said Jeremy. "Sure, I had some clothes there. Not that I ever wore them."

"Did you," said Lyle, "ever buy a radar detector?"

Jeremy laughed and said, "This is really becoming accusatory. I would think that you'd have more important things on your to-do list than what I had in my closet and whether I had purchased a radar detector. They weren't illegal, at least back then--I checked into that before I bought it."

"So you did buy one?"

"What of it? The speed limits around here are about right for eighty-year-old grandmothers who are attempting to make it to the pharmacy, but some of us working guys have a life to live and can't go doddering around at fifteen miles an hour."

"Do you remember when you purchased the detector?"

Jeremy opened his wallet and browsed through it. "Gosh, the sales slip isn't in here, but I guess that's not surprising because I must have bought it about four years ago."

"OK, Jeremy," said Gina in a stern, formal voice, "I am now going to read you your rights."

"My rights? What are you two people talking about?"

After Gina had read him the Miranda warning, Jeremy said, "What are you accusing me of?" For the first time, there was a note of wariness in his voice.

"You do understand," said Lyle, "that you can end this interview and ask to talk to your lawyer?"

"About what? The clothes in my closet? There's an important issue!"

"Jeremy--"

"And as far as lawyers go, I don't have one. Why should I?"

"We've reopened the investigation into your mother's murder," said Lyle.

"And?"

"We feel that you may be the one who murdered her."

Jeremy's reaction to this accusation was milder than his sister's, but it was not dissimilar. "That's a good one," he said laughing. "Listen to me--I did not murder my mother."

"Mr. Breen," said Gina, "we have reason to believe otherwise, and that's why we're talking to you."

"Let me repeat what I just said: I did not murder my mother. And if I were a murderer, which I'm not, she would be the last person on this earth that I would murder."

"Perhaps you can explain this," said Gina as she pushed a piece of paper towards him.

Jeremy looked down and saw a copy of his bank transactions for the two months before the murder. "So?" he said, after he had glanced through it.

"Did you notice the $2,000 withdrawal two weeks before the murder?"

"No, I didn't," he said. "What of it?" To Lyle, he appeared to be nervous as he stared at the paper.

"Can you explain it?"

"Explain it? I guess I went into the bank and withdrew $2,000 dollars."

"Why?"

"How should I know? I'm always making deposits and withdrawals to my account."

"How about the $5,000 dollar deposit at the beginning of July?"

Jeremy rubbed his chin reflectively. "I'll take the fifth on that one. Back then, I had ways of making money that you wouldn't approve of."

"Drugs?"

"I'm taking the fifth--that's all I'm going to say about that."

"Jeremy," said Gina, "would you say that you have, or have had, problems with drugs?"

"No, not at all. How about you?"

"I'm warning you," said Gina. "If I were you, I would take these questions seriously."

Jeremy seemed amused. "Like they're really important and might affect my life?"

"Listen," said Gina, "if we charge you with murder and you're convicted, you'll be spending, at best, the rest of your life in prison."

"Really? I suppose I should be worried, but it's tough to take you two seriously because you're making complete fools of yourselves."

Before Gina lost her temper, Lyle interrupted. "Jeremy, let's forget about whether you ever sold drugs, and--"

"Good, because I never have."

Lyle noticed that this contradicted what he had just said about the $5,000. "But you did use them--correct?"

"Occasionally, just like everyone else."

"Alcohol?"

"Maybe a beer or two after work."

"Marijuana?"

Jeremy looked at Lyle for almost ten seconds before he said, "Some--back in the past. What is this? The inquisition?"

"We're just trying to verify some information. How about cocaine?"

"Once--that was enough for me. It's a rotten drug that destroyed one of the best friends I ever had."

"Would the name of that friend be Shawn Evans?"

Although he didn't say anything, Jeremy looked at Lyle suspiciously--as if he was beginning to understand something.

"Jeremy," said Lyle, "at the time of the murder were you friends with Shawn Evans?"

"So that's where all this is coming from. I should have known. Believe me, you're going to end up looking ridiculous if you pursue this."

Gina wondered why he had been so quick to connect Shawn to what they were talking about. "It would help us if you would just answer our questions," she said. "If he's lying, we'll find out."

"You're certainly not off to a good start. Yes, Shawn and I were friends--unfortunately."

"But you're not now?"

"No--that guy has caused nothing but trouble for our family."

"Why aren't you friends anymore?" asked Lyle.

"For one thing, he was always messing around with my sister. And his intentions weren't honorable because Shawn Evans doesn't know what an honorable intention is. Have you heard who made Selena pregnant and caused her to have an abortion?"

"Yes, but you were friends with him after that, weren't you?" said Gina.

"A mistake on my part for which I do apologize. But after a while, I couldn't deal with him anymore because he was always lying to me and trying to rip me off."

"Were you friends with him at the time of the murder?"

"Perhaps--I can't remember the dates right now."

"Jeremy," said Lyle, "you must remember the issue of the beer bottles that came up during your father's trial?"

"Yes--what of it?"

"We've done another DNA test on those bottles and found that the person who drank the beer was Shawn Evans. Further, as you may remember from the trial, the beer was drunk at almost exactly the same time as the murder occurred."

Jeremy drummed his fingers on the table and seemed lost in thought.

"Jeremy?" said Gina.

"What does that prove?" he said in an irritable voice.

"It means he was there," said Lyle.

"Maybe he murdered my mother. I don't know--I wasn't there."

"He says you were."

"Since the guy always lies, that means I wasn't. You can take that to the bank and deposit that in your account. In the long run, you'll be a lot better off listening to me than if you listen to him."

"So far, everything he's told us has checked out."

"You can't really be serious. Don't you remember that an hour before I phoned 911, I was over fifty miles away at a bar in North Dover?"

"We can explain that."

"No, Shawn explained it somehow. And so, according to him, I was able to travel fifty-five or sixty miles, some of it on secondary roads, and then murder my mother in a bloody knife fight before I disposed of her body and called 911. Amazing! Superman could have done it because he can fly, but unfortunately, I don't have those kind of powers. And what about the blood in the trunk of my father's car? You must have forgotten about that."

Lyle explained to Jeremy their theory of how he could have murdered his mother. Before handing him the timeline, Gina also told him that Shawn had admitted to placing the blood in his father's car.

"Shawn should write mystery novels," said Jeremy. "This is just so incredibly absurd." As Jeremy began to look at the timeline, Gina told him that she and Lyle had reenacted the events described within it. "Isn't that special?" he muttered sarcastically. Jeremy spent some time reading through Shawn's version of events. When he was done, he laughed and said, "And you actually think this is what happened?"

"Let's look at the facts," said Gina. "We--"

"Oh yes, by all means--let's look at the facts. You people are so far off the mark that you should consider taking up another occupation, but make it something simple like driving around in a truck and collecting the recyclables. You'd make a great team."

"Mister," said Gina, who didn't react well to insults, "that truck is going to need license plates, and if you're convicted of this crime and escape the death penalty, you'll be the one making those plates because that's what they do at the state prison."

Jeremy laughed. "If you're trying to scare me, it's not working because everything involved in this so-called timeline of yours is false, totally false."

"You're saying that you returned to the house a couple of minutes before you placed the 911 call?"

"Yes."

"Was Shawn there when you arrived?"

"No, he wasn't."

"Was there any plan for you to meet him there that night?"

"No. Why would I have wanted to meet him there?"

"Maybe," said Gina, "the two of you planned this out together, and maybe Shawn is a lot more guilty than he's making himself out to be."

"He's certainly guilty of inventing this tale."

"Do you think he might have been the one who murdered your mother?"

"I wouldn't have thought so, at least until now. But the beer bottles prove he was there, and he admits that he was the one who planted the blood in my father's car. Case closed! Here I am denying that I was ever there, and here he is admitting to all these things, and you believe him--so much so, that you've created this nonsensical timeline that could never have happened in reality."

"Why not?"

"Come on! In fifty minutes, I can travel sixty miles and do what you claim I did?"

"It's actually fifty-five miles, Jeremy, and it's actually sixty-five minutes."

"This must be a joke--I couldn't have done this if it had been ten miles and two hours."

"We actually did it, Jeremy."

"And it didn't seem the least bit far-fetched to you?"

"Not if someone had planned it out carefully," said Gina.

"And knew how to sprout wings and fly and transport bodies at the speed of light. By the way, what's my motive for murdering my mother?"

"Shawn said--"

Jeremy performed a mock bow and said, "The Great One speaks!"

"He said that your mother was no longer going to make the payments on your car."

"This is just so preposterous," said Jeremy. "Wait until I tell Selena that one--we'll die laughing. But when it's all over, everyone's going to be laughing at both of you because you're nothing but bumbling, starstruck idiots. I know I shouldn't say that, but it's the truth."

"Look, Mister," said Gina, "if I were you--"

"They're going to be laughing at you especially," said Jeremy, with sudden and intense animosity.

Gina glared at him for a moment before she responded. "If I were you--"

"But you're not me and you never will be, so go lay this moronic trip on someone else. You're blind as a bat, and I have better things to do with my life than sit here and listen to this rehashed garbage from Shawn Evans."

He was so visibly enraged that both Gina and Lyle were taken aback. "Jeremy," said Lyle in a mild voice, "a murder charge is not something to take lightly."

"I disagree," said Jeremy, in a somewhat calmer voice. "Nothing we experience on this earth has any real significance. I suppose, if anything either of you were saying contained even a shred of truth, I might be inclined to take it seriously, but really...I just don't have words to express how I feel."

"Was your mother threatening to stop the payments?"

"No, she would never have done that."

"Can you prove that?" said Lyle.

"The Great One has spoken. Did he offer any proof that my mother was about to do that?"

"No," said Gina, "but--"

"For God's sake!" said Jeremy. "He hasn't offered you any proof of anything, and your response has been that you think he's telling the truth. Shawn's such a believable guy, isn't he? A real straight arrow, a model citizen. Especially if you forget that he's a dope addict--and what was it that he did lately? I heard he held up a convenience store. What did you two do? Offer him a deal? You don't have to offer me a deal--I'll tell you the truth straight up: I did not murder my mother, nor was I involved in any conspiracy to murder her. I know that you've heard differently from the Great One, so I suppose that makes me the liar. No wonder all the mystics are in agreement that the world is an absurd joke that no one should take seriously."

"But Jeremy," said Lyle, "it's an indisputable fact that Shawn was there that night."

"And that makes _me_ guilty? Are you going to tell me that it's an indisputable fact I was there at midnight? Come on! Answer me!"

"Jeremy-"

"The only thing you can use to back up everything you've said to me is what the Great One has told you. But I've spoken the truth, and I've yet to hear of any actual evidence against me."

"Jeremy," said Lyle, "can you think of any reason why Shawn would invent a story like this?"

Jeremy did not reply immediately, and both Lyle and Gina were surprised because they had expected him to say the obvious--Shawn was seeking revenge for something that had happened in the past. "To be honest with you," said Jeremy, at last, "I really don't have any idea why he's doing this."

"Did you ever steal any money or drugs from him?"

"Absolutely not--he was the one who stole money from me."

"Do you think," said Gina, "it could be connected to your sister Selena and the relationship he had with her?"

"I suppose it's possible, but that all happened a long time ago."

"Jeremy," said Gina, "can you tell us why you withdrew the $2,000 dollars from your checking account just before the murder?"

"Why? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Shawn--"

"The Great One."

"He told us that you paid him $2,000 thousand dollars to help you commit the murder."

"When it comes to lying, he's like the Energizer Bunny. He just doesn't stop."

"But this," said Gina, "isn't a theory--it's a fact. You did withdraw $2,000 from your bank account two weeks before the murder, _and_ Shawn told us that you gave him $2,000 the day it happened. Those are indisputable facts."

"Everything you've said doesn't prove anything at all except in your own imagination."

"How do you suppose he came up with exactly the same amount of money as what you withdrew from the bank?"

"How should I know? Maybe I mentioned to him that I had withdrawn $2,000 from my account. I'll admit that doesn't seem very likely, but unless he's psychic, I don't really have an explanation."

"You do admit that it's quite a coincidence?"

"I'm always withdrawing money from my account."

"No," said Gina decisively, "you were not always withdrawing money--not from your savings account. We've gone through your bank records for the two years before the murder and the year afterwards, and outside of that $2,000 withdrawal, the largest withdrawal was $500--and that only happened twice."

"OK, I'll take your word for it. Big deal."

"And you don't remember why you withdrew the money?"

"Not offhand," said Jeremy. Once again, he picked up the timeline and scanned it. "And supposedly the reason I gave him the money was for what?"

"To help you."

"According to this, Shawn didn't help me at all. He just stood around and watched me while I chased my mother around with a knife."

"You're forgetting about the blood in the trunk of your father's car."

"I can't cope with it," said Jeremy. "Now I know what it's like trying to talk to religious zealots who have been lucky enough to hear the voice of the Great One. But let me tell you something for your own benefit: I did not murder my mother, and if you really think my father was not involved, then you should examine the Great One because he is the only suspect left."

Gina looked at Lyle and nodded towards the door. Once they were outside the interrogation room, she said, "He certainly hasn't done anything to help himself, but there's no point asking him any more questions right now. I think we should let him go and see if we can come up with something else that points to him."

Lyle opened the door to the room and said, "Alright, Jeremy, you're free to go, but if I were you, I'd come up with an explanation for the $2,000."

## CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR:

## "DO YOU THINK WHAT EVANS TOLD YOU IS TRUE?"

Six days later, there was a contentious meeting between Justin Merrill, Adrian Boone, Lyle Hawkins, and Gina Marotti. The two detectives opened the meeting, which took place in Adrian's office, with a comprehensive review of the evidence against Jeremy. When they were finished, Gina said, "What this means, practically speaking, is that we can no longer hold Dana Breen."

"What are you talking about?" said Justin. "You can't be serious--I'm not going to let two beer bottles and a dubious confession from a drug addict destroy all the work that we put into this."

"I couldn't agree more," said Adrian. "Nowadays, it's like climbing Mt. Everest to get anybody convicted for anything. People are always coming up with phony confessions, and I don't understand how anyone could believe what Evans said."

Lyle knew this was the time to tell them about a new piece of evidence they had deliberately held back from Justin and Adrian. This had been Gina's idea--she felt the best hope against any resistance to indicting Jeremy would be to save what they had recently found until the end of their presentation. "Chief," he said, "Gina and I have uncovered something that points directly to Jeremy Breen."

Before he could continue, Lyle was interrupted by one of Adrian's prolonged curses. Justin had never heard the Chief give full vent to his exceptionally disgusting vocabulary and was obviously shocked, if not horrified. Welcome to the club, thought Lyle.

Justin turned towards Lyle and said, "What did you find?"

"We were able to locate Jeremy Breen's girlfriend--not his present one but the one at the time of the murder. Her name is Audrey Hammonds, and what she told us is excellent corroborating evidence."

"That's right," said Gina. "Granted, everything Evans said could, somehow or other, be a lie, but Audrey Hammonds is no Shawn Evans. She's a successful, intelligent career woman who--"

"So what did she tell you?" said Adrian abrasively. "I don't need to hear her resume--I deal with a hundred of those each week, and they're nothing but bad commercials for rotten, outdated products."

"What she told us," said Gina, who was ignoring Adrian while she spoke directly to Justin, "was that Jeremy was supposed to pick her up on the evening of the murder so that the two of them could go to Norton's, the bar where he was playing guitar that night, but--"

"So what does that prove?" said Adrian.

Gina shot Adrian a caustic glance before she continued. "Around six o'clock, Jeremy called Audrey and told her that he was working late that night and wouldn't have time to come to her house."

Adrian began to interrupt, but Justin held out his hand admonishingly and said, "Let her finish."

"At the time, Audrey was living with her parents, and their house would have been no more than a twenty minute detour for Jeremy."

"And?" said Adrian.

"I think it's obvious," said Gina. "Audrey told us that this was very unusual behavior for Jeremy, and I think it goes without saying--or should go without saying--that if he was planning to murder his mother that night, he couldn't have brought Audrey with him to the bar."

"I can't believe it," said Adrian. "There's a conclusive piece of evidence! I'm surprised you didn't call it the smoking gun. In all my life, I've never seen such an absurd case. Some whacko criminal with a chip on his shoulder comes up with a third-rate confession, and these so-called detectives of mine go into a swoon."

"You have a right to your opinion," said Gina, "but we'll have to talk to Dana Breen's lawyer."

"Not necessarily," said Justin.

They were all taken by surprise when Gina said, "It may not be necessary to you, Justin, but I will not partake in illegal activities, and it would be criminal to--"

"No!" said Adrian, in a confrontational voice, "I'm drawing the line right here. We do not have to provide Dana Breen's lawyer with some completely irrelevant statement by his son's bimbo ex-girlfriend."

Gina was not one to back down. "I'm talking about Evans's confession, Adrian. We have too much supporting evidence to dismiss it, and I simply will not be a part to something that violates both the letter and the spirit of the law."

"Gina," said Justin, "I think you're overreacting."

"No, Justin, you should face the fact that the evidence points towards Jeremy Breen as being the one who committed this crime."

Justin looked at Lyle and said, "How do you feel about it?"

"First of all, at the absolute minimum, we have to inform Breen's attorney about the DNA test on the beer bottles. I suppose we could say that we thought Evans's confession was nonsense, but it's a virtual certainty that if we do that, everything he said to us will eventually reach the front page of the Lancaster Times."

Justin rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Do you think what Evans told you is true?"

"I'm still slightly ambivalent," said Lyle, "but we've found nothing to contradict it, and it's by no means a simple thing to fabricate."

"You're speaking of?"

"If this confession of his is contrived, it's a masterful piece of invention. There are just so many details that have to match up to the known facts."

"Is it possible that Evans was the murderer?"

"We've certainly looked into it," said Lyle, "but there are four things that make it seem highly improbable. First, it's really an enormous gamble, with very little reward, for him to implicate himself in the murder. True, he only claims to be an accessory after the fact, but how likely is it that a murderer would invent an after-the-fact confession that contained within it so many incriminating elements? And for what reason? To reduce his armed robbery charge by a couple of years?

"Second, we've checked back to when Evans was sixteen, and he has never owned a car--he's always had a motorcycle. In the confession, he claimed that he had parked his motorcycle off the road behind the Breen house, not far from the murder site."

"What of it?" said Adrian.

"If he were the murderer, how did he transport the body that night?"

There was silence in the room as this unpleasant information sank in. "Of course," said Lyle, "he could have borrowed a car, but you have to remember that if he were the one who murdered Karen Breen, it wouldn't have been premeditated. Evans did admit to us that he went into Selena Breen's room that night, so one could suppose that Karen Breen surprised him there and he panicked and stabbed her to death. But in this scenario, there is no premeditation, and based on the evidence at the scene, it is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to devise a premeditated murder when it involves Shawn Evans. And if it was unpremeditated, he came to that house on his motorcycle, and so there would have been no way for him to remove the body from the scene."

Justin looked depressed, but Lyle wasn't through. "Third, I think if Evans had been the murderer, he would never have planted the blood in the trunk of Dana Breen's car." Lyle stopped and waited for a response. Justin was silent because he didn't understand the logic behind Lyle's assertion, and it was up to Adrian to make the obvious reply. "Didn't we have a trial about this? If Dana Breen didn't commit the murder, then Evans put the blood in his car to frame him and protect himself. Even I can figure that much out."

"Not likely," said Lyle. "To begin with, why is Evans going to think of something like that? He's just savagely murdered a woman, and then, after tossing her body into a dumpster, he's going to plant the victim's blood in Dana Breen's car? Wouldn't it be enough to just dispose of the body without adding that in? What for? Shawn Evans isn't going to be considered a suspect. But beyond that consideration, we have to look at motive. Why frame the father? That idea sounds as if it came straight from Jeremy Breen."

"Because," said Gina, "if you were Jeremy, you might be worried that you would be considered a suspect, and from that point of view, his father would be the best one to frame."

"And then," said Lyle, "there's the fourth reason, which to me is the most compelling. Assuming that Evans committed the crime, why would he have thrown Karen Breen into a dumpster? At that point, he's not a suspect, so he would have just left her body there and raced for the exit."

"Alright," said Justin with a disgusted sigh, "tell me again what Jeremy Breen's motive was."

"According to Evans, his mother had reneged on her agreement to make the nearly thousand-dollar monthly payments on his car."

"That's it?"

"People have been murdered for a lot less," said Lyle. "And you have to remember this: With his mother's death and his father's conviction, Jeremy received half of the money from the Breen estate."

"What did that come to?"

"Not that much, but it was something. Dana Breen sold the house to pay for his defense but ended up writing out a five-thousand-dollar check to each of his kids. Karen Breen had about twelve grand in her saving and checking accounts, and Jeremy received half of that. She also had a small life insurance policy for twenty thousand, which was divided between Selena and Jeremy. This means that Jeremy received around twenty-one thousand dollars."

"When did Karen Breen purchase the life insurance policy?" asked Justin.

"A long time ago--twelve years, I think it was."

"And," said Gina, "we haven't even mentioned the most important perk. Not only had Jeremy's mother signed the loan on the car, but it also included a rider that if she became incapacitated or died, the bank that offered the loan would be liable for the remaining payments."

"They have things like that?" said Adrian in disbelief.

"Sure," said Gina, "it only added ten dollars to each payment. At the time of the murder, Jeremy had another twenty-nine thousand left on the loan, which brings his total financial incentive to fifty grand."

"And Evans had nothing to gain?" said Justin.

"We haven't come close to discovering anything."

"Which leads us back," said Justin, "to Dana Breen. Weren't you convinced that he was guilty?"

"I wasn't involved in that investigation," said Gina.

Lyle hesitated before he answered. "Yes, Justin, I know what you mean, and I can understand why he seemed like such a good suspect. He was the husband, he was having an affair, he had told the woman he was having an affair with that he was working on a plan to get his wife out of his life, he has absolutely no alibi, the murder occurs in the backyard of his house, and most of all, the victim's blood is found in the trunk of his car."

"It's good evidence," said Justin stubbornly.

"Maybe not," said Lyle. "I'm thinking of what Brett Silvers said at the trial. Something about how there were only two real pieces of evidence in the case--the beer bottles and the blood in the car. Actually, except for the blood evidence, _everything_ else against Dana Breen is circumstantial." (Lyle wasn't a lawyer, so he didn't realize that all the evidence in the Breen case was circumstantial.) "However, the other piece of evidence, the beer bottles, now points in another direction. _And_ we have an explanation for the blood in the trunk of the car that is consistent with the beer bottles."

"I can't believe it," said Adrian with disgust. "Lyle Hawkins is now a caddy for Brett Silvers. How does it feel to lug around the golf bags of a defense attorney?"

"I still feel," said Justin, who like everybody else in the room was ignoring Adrian, "that the evidence points more to Dana Breen than it does to his son."

"Suppose," said Gina, "I told you that Jeremy Breen had dropped something at the murder site that we were able to trace back to him."

"He did?" said Justin. "That would change everything--why didn't you mention this before?"

"Actually," said Gina, "he did drop something--we have the DNA of Shawn Evans."

Justin was understandably confused. "I know that, Gina, but I thought you said you had found something of Jeremy Breen's."

"We did find something of Jeremy Breen's--we found the DNA of the person who, at the time of the murder, was his best friend."

"But how does Evans's DNA connect Jeremy Breen to the murder?" asked Justin.

"Maybe Shawn and Jeremy are secret twins," said Adrian, who was never shy about laughing at his own jokes.

Suddenly, Lyle saw Gina's point, and before she could say anything, he said, "If Evans was there that night, then it means that the odds of Dana Breen committing the murder drop to about zero, while the odds for Jeremy Breen rise to nearly a hundred percent."

Speaking to Justin, Adrian said, "At the trial of Dana Breen, you said that he might have had an accomplice. Why couldn't it have been Evans?"

Gina looked at Adrian in disbelief, while Lyle wondered how far stupidity would go to defend itself. "No," said Justin, after a moment's reflection, "that doesn't make any sense. If two people were involved in this murder, and one of them was Shawn Evans, then the other was Jeremy Breen."

"That's exactly what I'm saying," said Gina. "Evans's DNA virtually proves that Jeremy was involved in this crime. It's the same thing as if we had found his driver's license in the pool of blood. The one thing we know for an absolute, indisputable fact is Evans was in the house that night, and given that, it's a very simple deduction to conclude that Jeremy was also there."

"Not if Evans was the murderer," said Adrian.

"We've already been through that," said Gina, as if she were lecturing a two-year-old.

"So what do you recommend?" said Justin.

It was Gina who answered this question. "It's up to you as to whether we have enough to charge Jeremy, but there is no doubt in my mind that we either have to set Dana Breen free or allow a retrial based on the evidence in our possession."

"We just can't allow everybody to walk away from this murder," said Justin emphatically. "Tell me again about the bank withdrawal by Jeremy Breen."

Gina went through the transaction again and also pointed out the $1,500 deposit that Shawn had made to his own account shortly after the murder.

"Alright," said Justin, "bring Evans over to my office tomorrow afternoon at two. I want both of you," he said to Lyle and Gina, "to be there. We'll have him tell us again what happened, and if I believe him, I will charge Jeremy Breen with this crime."

"And you'll release his father?" asked Gina.

"I'd rather hold the father until I had the son convicted, but obviously, I can't do that. He'll be released the moment I charge his son, but God help us all if Dana Breen is the one who actually committed this murder."

As Lyle left the room, it wasn't hard for him to hear a new and enhanced volley of curses from his boss.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:

## "I SUGGEST THAT HE IMMEDIATELY DROP HIS INFANTILE OBSESSION."

A week later, on the morning of September 19th, 2007, Justin Merrill made a short statement on the front steps of his office. With the cameras rolling and the flashbulbs popping, he said, "During the past month, our office has reopened the investigation into the murder of Karen Breen. As you all know, her husband was convicted of this crime and sentenced to forty years at the state prison. However, we have recently received information, from a man named Shawn Evans, that tended to cast serious doubt on his guilt. We had built a very solid case against Dana Breen and were inclined to doubt Mr. Evans, but because this office is interested in the truth, we thoroughly examined his account of what had happened on the night of the murder and now believe that his statement is true.

"First of all, Mr. Evans told us that he had been present at the Breen house when the murder occurred. Perhaps you remember that there were two beer bottles found on the Breen's kitchen table that had obviously been drunk around the time of the murder. At Dana Breen's trial, we were quite open about the fact that our DNA experts were unable to match the DNA from the beer bottles to Dana Breen or any other member of his family. However, we have recently received a match to this DNA, and it belongs to Shawn Evans. We then re-interviewed him many times and carefully investigated all aspects of what he told us.

"This is not the time or place to make public everything that he said. Briefly, he has signed a sworn statement that implicates Jeremy Breen, the son of Dana and Karen Breen, in the murder of his mother--a murder that was committed by a vindictive son who despised both his mother and his father. We felt, with Dana Breen, that there was some chance the murder had been spontaneous, but no one could possibly argue that Jeremy Breen's actions on the night of the murder were the result of a sudden argument. Rather, it was a heartless, brutal, and premeditated crime that was thought out to the last detail.

"It was, for instance, always presumed that Jeremy Breen had an airtight alibi since he was known to be fifty-five miles from the murder scene precisely fifty-five minutes before he phoned 911 to report that something had happened to his mother. How, one might ask, could he travel that distance, murder his mother, and dispose of her body? Our detectives have exhaustively investigated this, and in court, we will show exactly how he was able to accomplish this.

"We have also interrogated Jeremy Breen, and although he claims that he had nothing to do with the murder of his mother, we have been able to develop further proof, through bank records and other sources, that he was the mastermind behind this plot, and we fully expect that a jury will convict him of first degree murder.

"Finally, even though this murder was clearly the result of precise calculation, I have decided not to seek the death penalty. The reason for this is due to a conversation I held yesterday with Jeremy Breen's father, the man who, of all people on this earth, should be the one most inclined to feel bitter. However, despite the fact his son had murdered his wife and framed him for the murder, Dana Breen implored me in the most emotional terms not to seek the death penalty, and because of what he has suffered--even if it was due to the actions of his son--I have acceded to his request. Thus, the state will be seeking life in prison without the possibility of parole."

Justin took no questions and left the scene precipitously before he had to answer any embarrassing questions. Even before he opened the door to his office, he could hear one of the reporters shout out, "Justin, if you were so sure then, how can you be so sure now?" Despite the raucous hounding, Justin was able to laugh because he'd been able to sneak some highly dubious claims past his rabid inquisitors. The prosecution had been "quite open" about the DNA at the trial? There was "some chance" that Dana Breen, after digging his wife's grave, had murdered his wife spontaneously? He wondered if the self-proclaimed gods of the modern world would be shrewd enough to comment on those remarks. Probably not.

That same afternoon, a hundred miles away at the state prison in Barrington, Dana Breen was standing just outside the prison gates with his daughter as he made his own statement to the press. Although he did not have much to say, Selena would fill the vacuum nicely.

"I am happy," said Dana, who still sounded contrite, "to be a free man. I did not murder my wife, so justice has been done. I still deeply mourn the loss of Karen--no one has, or ever will, love me the way that she did. Once again, I want to apologize for my actions--it was shameful the way I treated her, and I think there is a kind of rough justice in having spent three years in prison.

"However, I am saddened and shocked to hear that my son has been accused of this crime. There is no way that he could have done this--he and his mother loved each other dearly. I sincerely ask the prosecutor to take another look at the evidence in his possession--somehow, there must be another explanation. As soon as I leave here, my daughter and I will be going to visit Jeremy. I, for one, certainly understand how he feels."

It was now Selena's turn to speak. There is, if I might be permitted the briefest of comments, something about a beautiful woman that attracts an inordinate amount of attention. Perhaps the word inordinate, with its implication of the irrational, is not accurate. Maybe extraordinary beauty attracts extraordinary attention. At any rate, all eyes turned towards the ravishing blond with the dazzling blue eyes and the centerfold figure--a figure that she was not bashful about displaying, even if it was in a relatively tasteful and elegant way.

"Last week, during a busy day when I had far better things to do than listen to a lot of childish nonsense, two so-called investigators dragged me into a room at the police station and questioned me for over an hour about whether my brother Jeremy could have murdered my mother. I was like _totally_ shocked. I told them no way, zip, nada, not in a billion years.

"And now, to top it all off, I find out that Mr. Merrill's case is based on a statement that came from a man named Shawn Evans. Unfortunately, in the past, I was romantically involved with Mr. Evans, and I am certainly paying the price for it now. Based on my experience with him, I can tell you that Shawn Evans is a sociopath who has no conscience or principles whatsoever _._ He was also addicted to both alcohol and cocaine; and when I say alcohol, I'm talking about fifths of liquor at a time; and when I say cocaine, I mean line after line after line. Of course, with those disgusting habits, he developed a serious cash-flow problem, and it is no surprise to me that he was recently arrested for armed robbery.

"It is my opinion that Mr. Evans is seeking revenge against my family because I had the good sense to kick him out of my bed and all the pleasures I had bestowed on him. He is, when all is said and done, nothing but a malicious person who is amusing himself by attempting to implicate my brother for a crime that he himself may have committed. No one in their right mind can possibly believe that Jeremy was involved--everyone knows that he was fifty-five miles away from Lancaster less than an hour before he phoned 911 to report that my mother was missing. Meanwhile, the DNA from the beer bottles proves Mr. Evans was actually in the house at the time of the murder, and so if the prosecutor had any sense at all, which he apparently doesn't, he would follow the trail of the real evidence and stop hounding our family with these vicious accusations from a convicted criminal.

"I know people will say that I am just defending my family. This is exactly the type of thing I heard when I said my father was innocent, and who turned out to be right and who turned out to be wrong? This time around, maybe people should pay some attention to me, and as hard as it might be for Mr. Merrill to hear it, I suggest that he immediately drop his infantile obsession with Jeremy and focus his attention on a much more realistic suspect--Shawn Evans."

## CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: NOTHING IS EVER AS BAD AS IT SEEMS

Jeremy had been able to post bail when Karen's mother (who was convinced that Dana had murdered her daughter) offered her half-million-dollar house as surety, and so, just three days after his arrest, Jeremy had been released. His friends and acquaintances found his attitude to be strange, even mystifying. In his conversations with them, he maintained that he wasn't worried about the trial. "Nothing's really important," he would say with casual, almost arrogant certainty. "And besides, there's no way that I'll ever have to serve jail time for this." For Jeremy, the worst part of the whole affair was that he had to tone down his marijuana habit, at least when he was inside. He didn't dare to sit in his apartment with a big wreath of illegal smoke swirling around him as he contemplated the lazy way of the galaxies.

About a month before his arrest, Jeremy had discovered another book that was having a strong effect on him. It wasn't a modern book; in fact it was one of the oldest books in the possession of humanity--that classic fount of wisdom (at least to some) entitled _The Way_ by Lao Tzu. Mr. Tzu, as legend has it, was a ninety-year-old sage who was "passing out of civilization" and heading for the mountains where he would be able, in peace and quiet, to contemplate the subtle mysteries of the universe. Before he departed for the hinterlands, a friend begged Mr. Tzu to leave some pearls of wisdom behind, and Lao had been good enough to oblige with a succinct collection of eighty-one "poems."

Jeremy loved the basic theme of the book--forget about your absurd little problems, stop striving, and do nothing. Absolutely nothing. This whimsical advice was completely contradictory to everything Jeremy had ever been exposed to--all that rah-rah nonsense of making something out of your life, climbing to the top of the pack, and clobbering everybody else in the face with your superior intelligence and education.

Late in the evening on the day of his release from prison, Jeremy had literally stumbled over his copy of _The Way,_ and he had only read a few pages before he was scoffing at himself and all his feeble, half-witted attempts to come to grips with his situation. What was the point? Shawn would still be the same; Selena would still be fussing and fuming because he might be going to prison for the rest of his life; his father would still be groveling around in the midst of his own corny religious redemption. There was, thought Jeremy, just no sense in wasting any more time on all the antagonistic judgments he was making about everyone and everything. Why should he bother with the dark, moronic ravings of resentment? It was just one more thought pattern, out of millions, that illustrated all the difficulties and anxieties people caused themselves when they started believing that their thoughts were important. Because, no matter what anyone said or did, everything on this earth, including all the thoughts and ideals of humanity, had no significance. If a galaxy like the Milky Way was just a microscopic blip on the screen, which it was, then one really had to accept the fact that all the "accomplishments" produced by our comically self-congratulatory civilization were highly overrated, essentially worthless commodities.

Early the next morning, Jeremy wandered into the forest and stoked up on the mighty weed. Afterwards, he sprawled on some moss and stared up at the sky, the endless, eternal sky. It was such a joy to realize that he had no significance, to really understand that in two hundred years--max!--nobody would remember him or have the least interest in anything that he had ever said or done. In fact, if he evaporated into the cosmos this instant, who would care? Selena, of course. She'd probably blame his evaporation on his arrest and come out with another one of her over-the-top diatribes. But then, five years down the road, she'd be in bed with her new flame, and by then, he, Jeremy, would have disappeared into the far realms of her consciousness. And anyways, just like everyone else, Selena would die someday, and the last earthly remnant or remembrance of his life would vanish forever. People avoided thinking about life this way because it seemed depressing, but in actuality, it was a relief. No more standing on street corners and wondering which way to go or what to do. Who cares?

For Jeremy, caring was now something to be avoided since one only cared when one thought someone or something was important. And, truth be told, wasn't caring the reason why people ended up murdering each other? If no one cared, there would be no more wars, which were the zenith of the caring emotion. Wars were, of course, nothing but idiotic tribal bloodbaths carried on by insane people who cared so much about their beliefs and ideals that they were ready to kill or be killed. Real bright! And this caring emotion went on and on through every activity and relationship--sexual jealousy was another good example of care gone berserk and plunging another person into his or her own personal war. If only people would give up the trivialities of their egos and realize that they amounted to absolutely nothing and that every attempt to prove their own importance was a fool's journey to nowhere.

And if one attempted to escape from this truth by asserting that something outside the individual was important--some idea, some disaster, some God--it was exactly the same thing as saying "I'm important." It wasn't a question of finding something that was truly important--the whole concept, from beginning to end, was completely false. You could subtract the Milky Way from the universe and nothing would change, so what difference did anything on this earth make? It might not sound attractive to mention these ideas, but if one were willing to look past the cool veneer of this metaphysical truth, there was nothing but endless happiness.

Pleasantly dazed, Jeremy wandered back from the woods and made a vow to himself: No more taking these earthly shenanigans seriously, no more taking himself seriously.

It was only five minutes after he arrived home that Selena came calling. Nowadays, he preferred to avoid her because she was so fixated about Shawn and the upcoming trial. It was painful to listen to her as she droned on about all the catastrophic things that could happen to him. Blah, blah, blah--even if it was well-intentioned.

"You'll never guess what I just found out," she said excitedly.

Maybe she'd been to the library and had found _The Road Map to the Milky Way._ But no, that wasn't likely, and even if she had opened that book, all she would have remembered were how beautiful the stars were on a clear night. Typical woman--flowers and stars; no wonder, a hundred years ago, men had withdrawn from the dining-room table to the drawing room, or whatever they called it, so they could puff on their disgusting cigars while they meditated on the mysteries of the universe. Of course, thought Jeremy cynically, in those days, the mysteries were exactly the same as they are now--the latest stock swindle that had left millions broke and infuriated.

"What did you find out?" he said to Selena, in a voice that was intended to convey disinterest.

"I was having lunch with Andrea Patterson--remember her?--and she told me that about two weeks before Shawn was arrested, he had told her that he was going to do something to me because of everything that I'd done to him. So there it is!" she concluded, almost jubilantly.

Jeremy had not the slightest clue as to who Andrea Patterson was. "So..." he said slowly, "what difference does that make?"

"What difference does it make? Are you serious? I asked her right then and there if she would testify at the trial, and she said that she'd think about it. Andrea is obviously scared of the cops because she's a coke addict, but once I tell your lawyer about it, she won't have any choice."

"Who's Andrea Peterson?' said Jeremy.

"Andrea Patterson--don't you remember?--she and I used to hang out at that disco on Main Street."

"Rubber Soul?"

"That's the place--she loved all those old Beatles songs that they were always playing. You were there with us a couple of times."

Dimly, the unpleasant memory of Andrea began to float into his consciousness. She hadn't been very attractive, and since she had obviously had a crush on him, he had been forced to cross Rubber Soul off his list of hangouts. "Did she know Shawn or something?"

"They were sleeping together," said Selena, with a wink.

"That's good, I guess," he said, as if he had just found a nickel.

"You guess? Jeremy, you have to stop acting this way."

"What way?"

"Like you don't care. I know you're a laid-back guy, but you're taking it way too far--if you're convicted, you'll be spending the rest of your life in prison."

"I'm not worried about it, Selena." Here it comes, thought Jeremy--the old lecture about rallying around the flag. Show some spirit! Charge out of those trenches!

Selena walked over to his refrigerator, opened it, and took out two imported beers. Opening them, she handed one to Jeremy and sat down near him. "OK, Jeremy," she said in a conversational tone, "I can see you're out there in the ozone somewhere. I wish you would ease off on the ganja. Whenever I do that stuff, I end up feeling like a vegetable who's having a bad day."

In spite of himself, Jeremy laughed.

"What's so funny?" said Selena, with a smile.

"You just don't look at this the way I do, Selena. The fact is that our lives aren't important. We run around like every action and thought we have means something, but that's only an egotistical illusion."

"Jeremy, I wish you would come down from cloud nine and deal with reality. They invented the expression 'pipe dream' to describe the thoughts that are constantly running through your head." Selena punctuated her last sentence by mimicking a person smoking a joint.

"It doesn't have anything to do with marijuana, Selena. That's just your excuse for dismissing everything I say. The sooner you realize that nothing is important, the happier you'll be."

"Let me see if I understand this right," said Selena derisively. " _Nothing_ is important?"

"That's right--that's an actual fact."

"So if I'm out in my car and run a red light and slam broadside into a car and kill a mother and her baby, then I suppose that's not important?"

How, Jeremy wondered, was he supposed to know? He wasn't Einstein, and besides, he hadn't had years to refine his theory. In the long run, of course, even if the whole world was broadsided by an asteroid and all the mothers, fathers, and children were obliterated, it wouldn't make the least bit of difference. The universe would simply stroll on with its sublime, annihilating magnificence. However, Jeremy knew that if he wanted to become a world-famous philosopher, which eventually might be a possibility, he would have to find an acceptable answer to Selena's question. Worse yet, he could picture to himself what would happen if he were standing beside Selena's hypothetical car wreck and told the horrified bystanders that it was all very trivial and unimportant. On the other hand--as opposed to Selena's car wrecks--there were all the car wrecks that humanity had created because of the billion things that everyone thought were important. Racial differences! Wars! Budget battles! Billions and billions and billions of things. And every single one of them was utterly trivial.

It was definitely best, thought Jeremy, for the modern kings--people like himself--to issue a blanket edict that abolished all the significances. It was easier that way, and besides, once someone started sorting out which significance was important and which was unimportant, you'd end up with everything being declared as important. And that would mean another war--about something!

"Well?" said Selena. "I see you don't have an answer for that one."

Jeremy decided to distract her by switching the topic back to himself. "Listen, Selena, everything is going to turn out all right, and--"

"Jeremy--"

"No, listen to me for a minute. There's a lot of things people don't know about this, but one thing's for sure--whether or not I'm convicted, I'll never go to prison."

Selena stared at him wide-eyed. "What does that mean?" she said dramatically. "You wouldn't...you aren't..."

"No, of course not--I would never commit suicide. Selena, you're just taking this way too seriously and making it into a crisis."

"It is a crisis."

Jeremy made a mental note that once he became king, the word crisis would be obliterated from all the dictionaries. Whose crisis? Whose ego? "Nothing's going to happen to me, Selena--you're worrying about nothing."

"But what are you going to do if the jury comes back with a guilty verdict? Disappear?"

Jeremy knew that he had to backtrack. "I'll never be convicted, Selena." The beer was cold, and he chugged it down as he tried to avoid laughing.

"But what if you are?"

"Let's look at it this way," he said dispassionately. "I can sit here and worry about the future all I want, but what good is that going to do me? I'm trying to avoid ulcers, not create them. I can't, in all seriousness, imagine anything more ridiculous than worrying about the future."

"But you have to prepare for it, Jeremy."

"Why's that?"

" _Because you're going to spend the rest of your life there!"_

"And when I get there--to the future--should I still continue to worry about the next future? You'll have me worrying until the day I drop dead."

"Jeremy," she said in a scolding tone, "you don't have to worry about the trial, but you do have to prepare for it."

"I am prepared--far more than you realize."

"And what does this preparation entail?"

"You sound like a lawyer, Selena. I'm just going to go into the courtroom and smile at everyone, including Shawn Evans. Actually, if you want my honest opinion, I think lawyers and judges and jurors are crazy--all wrapped up in these bizarre stories from people who've done weird anti-social things. They'd have a lot more fun if they took a holiday and went to the Bahamas."

Exasperated, Selena put down her unfinished beer and stood up. "I have to go, Jeremy, but..." she walked up to him and gave him a hug. When she pulled back from him, he looked at her sympathetically. "Your heart's in the right place, Selena--I appreciate that. But don't take this too seriously because nothing is ever as bad as it seems."

She left, and for the first time that day, Jeremy felt unhappy because he knew, for Selena, that his trial might not have a happy ending, and if that happened, there was no way he would ever be able to escape from her wrath. And it wasn't his fault.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: THE WIZARD LOSES HIS WAND

That was the moment when the lightning bolt of fear had swept through Jeremy's mind--or actually, it felt like the bolt had twisted his stomach into a knot. He had forgotten something, something very obvious. It had never, not once, crossed his mind. His whole plan of sauntering through the trial as if it didn't matter was ridiculous. It did matter! If he wasn't acquitted of the murder, he would probably be able to pull the secret trump card out of his pocket, but after that, everyone would be coming down on him for the other thing. Selena was bad enough, but the long arm of the law would be a hundred times worse. His sister would just shovel the usual moral prattle at him, but the judges and lawyers would be talking about years. Years in the pen! Years with hoodlums, thugs, and repulsive backstabbers like Shawn. Frantically, Jeremy went over to his computer and looked up the penalties for what he could be charged with. Ten years! Ten stinking years in the hole. Grinding out license plates for some dope who was driving around in his Mercedes.

Shaking and quaking with his newfound realization, Jeremy swerved into his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Why hadn't he thought of this before? It must be because of all the distractions since his arrest. It couldn't, obviously, have anything to do with the weed. But now, the enormous abyss he faced suddenly became obvious. Ten years! He tried to apply his galactic knowledge to the situation. "It's not as important as it seems," he said sternly to himself. "Ten years," he yelped. Ten years was more than important--it was whatever came beyond important. Decisive! Critical! Apocalyptic!

Early the next morning, after a long, terrible, almost sleepless night, he phoned Selena. "I'm sorry for the way I acted last night," he said to her. "You're right--I have to start taking this seriously."

"You bet you do, Jeremy. Sometimes, I can't believe the way you are. If you're convicted, they'll give you life in prison without parole."

At least, if nothing backfired, he was exempt from that possibility. "Listen," he said to her, "I'll be seeing my lawyer today, and I'm going to tell her about Andrea Peterson. Do--"

"It's Andrea Patterson. Write it down, Jeremy."

"Alright," he said, as he grabbed a pen off the table. "Do you think it would help if I talked to her?"

"No, Jeremy, don't do that. If the prosecutor finds out you've spoken to her, they probably won't let her testify. I'll see her today and get back to you. What's your lawyer think about the case?"

"She's worried about the bank transactions."

"What are you talking about?"

Jeremy wished he hadn't brought it up because he hadn't really thought through what his explanation was going to be. "It's just bad luck, Selena. Apparently, a couple of weeks before Mom was murdered, I withdrew two thousand dollars from my bank account."

"So?"

"When Shawn talked to the cops, he claimed that I gave him two thousand dollars to help me murder Mom."

There was a long pause before Selena said, "How did he know that you had withdrawn two thousand dollars? That's kind of odd, isn't it? How did he hit upon the exact figure?"

"It was just a lucky guess, Selena."

"Jeremy, whatever you do, don't lie to me. What did you give him the two thousand dollars for?"

"I don't know--I don't remember giving him that much money, but if I did, it would have been for one of his drug deals."

"Two thousand dollars?"

"I think it was only five hundred, and--"

"But Shawn said two thousand, Jeremy."

"Right--maybe I told him that I had withdrawn two thousand that day, and he just happened to remember it."

"Look," said Selena sharply, "no wonder your lawyer is worried about this. You absolutely have to come up with a better story than what you just told me. No juror in their right mind would believe some half-baked idiotic explanation like that. Did you, or did you not, give Shawn two thousand dollars?"

Could the prosecutor be any worse? At least, in that arena, he could invoke the fifth. "No, Selena, I never gave him two thousand dollars."

"And you swear that's the truth?"

"It doesn't matter, Selena," he said with a sense of desperation, "because even if I did, it certainly wasn't--"

"So you did give him the money," said Selena, with obvious disgust.

"I may have--I don't actually remember. And if I did, are you going to start thinking that I had something to do with what happened that night?"

"No, Jeremy, they could bring in a video of you murdering her, and I wouldn't believe it for a moment. That's why this whole thing is so infuriating to me. But now I hear about this evidence they have against you, and it sounds like real evidence to me--the kind of thing that jurors swallow up and spit out whole."

"I know," said Jeremy, who was depressed by Selena's lawyer-like rationality.

"How could Shawn have hit upon the exact figure, Jeremy? You must have given him the money. What for? You would never have fronted him two grand to buy drugs--everyone knew that he loved to rip people off that way. I can remember the time you were so steamed because you had loaned him two hundred dollars that you realized you were never going to get back."

"I just can't remember, Selena. I'm going to find out if there's a way to trace my financial transactions back in 2004 because I think I might have used the two thousand to buy a computer."

"Two thousand dollars for a computer? What did you get--something that was autographed by Bill Gates?"

Jeremy was fed up with the grilling. "Selena, for God's sake, will you stop? Maybe I took a thousand out for the computer and six hundred for the rent and gave the rest to Shawn. Get off my case, will you? I didn't murder, Mom, and I didn't pay Shawn to murder her either. But I'll tell you one thing--I think it would be more logical if Shawn had been charged than me."

"Of course it would have been, Jeremy, but for some reason, the cops are determined to nail someone in our family. Thank God I was away at college, or they'd be dragging me in after the jury acquits you."

That evening, Jeremy visited his father. Because the family house had been sold to pay for Dana's legal expenses, he was now living in a run-down two-room apartment. It was all very depressing to Jeremy, especially since his father had really turned the page on his previous life of licentious self-indulgence. There were, on a desk near the entranceway, two pictures of his mother as well as another of the whole family. Since Dana's release from prison, Jeremy had only seen him once, and it had been an awkward scene as his father continually apologized for the things he had done in the past.

Tonight, to Jeremy's surprise, his Dad was in an upbeat mood. Huron Electronics had hired him back, and money wasn't going to be a problem anymore. As soon as he had a couple of paychecks under his belt, he'd be moving into a respectable place. Dana ordered a pizza--free delivery!-and they each drank a beer while they waited. "I'm worried about you, Jeremy."

His father wasn't the only one in the room who was worried about Jeremy. "Why's that?" he said, as nonchalantly as he could.

"I know what it's like to be falsely accused. I think it's about the worst thing that could ever happen to a person."

"I'm sure it was, Dad."

"So I know how you feel. And it's even worse in your case than it was in mine. I'd cheated on your mother so many times that I'd lost count. I know how you felt about her, Jeremy--Selena and I can't believe what they're doing to you. It's just so absurd."

Jeremy didn't know what to say. Selena and his father...a few months from now, they might not be uttering these platitudes of support. In fact, Jeremy could visualize them as they stood up at a sentencing hearing to demand that he be given the maximum sentence. "I understand what you're saying, Dad--it's very unfair."

"Unfair? It's a lot worse than that, Jeremy. In a way, I was thankful that I had so much to regret when they arrested me because it diminished my sense of outrage. But you don't have that to fall back on--when it came to your mother, you were the perfect son."

"True, but I wasn't always the best of sons to you."

"Forget about it, Jeremy--I deserved it."

Jeremy had thought that when his father had been arrested, but he didn't now. Because the emotion that was going through his heart nowadays was not innocence but a very deep and painful sense of shame.

As Jeremy drove home that evening, he thought: If only it were true--if only there were no such thing as caring or the sense that something was important. True, in the long run, that was an absolute fact--probably! But in the short run, the agonies of the heart were becoming impossible to dismiss with the wave of an intellectual wand.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: "WE'RE ALL OBSESSED WITH OURSELVES."

During the three days he had spent in prison, Jerry had turned his attention to finding a lawyer. His father had recommended Brett Silvers, but he didn't have a high opinion of him. Too old, too conceited, too ugly, too bombastic. However, the mention of Brett's name had reminded him of Jessica Woods, the sexy, well-dressed lawyer who had assisted Brett during his father's trial. Smart and sophisticated, she was exactly the type of woman that excited Jeremy, and although he sensed that Jessica was far too wrapped up in her career to fall for a guy that she was defending, there was no doubt that she would be a thrill to sit next to in the courtroom. He'd certainly rather have her whispering in his ear than that oily Silvers guy.

After his first meeting with Jessica, which occurred on the afternoon of the day he was arrested, Jeremy began to fall in love with her. If only! It was almost like he was thirteen again as he attempted to come to terms with the crazy new lust that had swept into his barren life. And she was single! And she was sexy! And what a talker! One of the best conversationalists that Jeremy had ever met--witty, frank, and funny.

His next meeting with Jessica occurred an hour after his bail had been posted by his grandmother, but he failed to make a good impression on her because he was in one of his high-flying, everyone-else-is-stupid moods and continually dismissed everything as a trivial absurdity. Shocked and somewhat annoyed, Jessica had listened to him as he tried to impress her with his galactic philosophy of insignificance.

"Unfortunately," he said to her, as if he were the pope of a new religion, "we're all obsessed with ourselves because we think we're important, but the actual fact is that we have no more significance than the smallest part of the smallest atom in this room. We're nothing but imaginary phantoms that pass out of existence in a millionth of a second. Do you realize some galaxies have been around for at least ten billion years! And I'm supposed to take my life seriously! Who cares? What difference does anything make?"

"Jeremy," she said, with her winning smile, "I understand what you're saying, but if you're convicted, you'll have nothing to look forward to except an unhappy life."

"I won't be convicted," he said with assurance, "but even if I am, I won't be unhappy as long as I remember that nothing matters. People become upset in prison because they think they could be doing something important if they were walking around in the free world. What they don't understand is that nothing is ever important. Like it or not, that's a law of the universe."

Besides being irked by Jeremy's ridiculous assessment of prison life, Jessica was tempted to tell him that what he had just said seemed like a perfect philosophy for murder. Jeremy seemed to sense what she was thinking and said, "Don't take that to mean I murdered my mother because I didn't. The only reason one person would murder another was if he or she felt that something was very important--like jealousy or money. If I were married to a beautiful woman, which I'm not," he said, looking at her candidly, "and she ran off with someone--so what? Big deal! And it's the same with money--if I don't value money _or anything_ , why would I murder anyone?"

Two days later, Jeremy appeared in her office and was singing an entirely different tune. "Jessica," he began, with a good deal more humility than he had shown earlier, "this morning, I had a long talk with my sister, and I want to take back much of what I told you the last time we met."

She looked at him curiously--gone was the lackadaisical, sarcastic, I-don't-care-about-anything attitude. He was actually wringing his hands and speaking in an anxious, earnest tone. "What's the matter?" she said sympathetically.

"I was just showing off when I was talking to you before. Sometimes, I get swept away by ideas and forget the practical consequences. _I can't be convicted of this crime, Jessica._ My whole life would be ruined...and like you said, I would never be happy in prison."

"I'm glad to hear you talk this way, Jeremy, but before we go any further, I need to know the truth of what happened that night."

"I--"

"No, wait--listen to me. OK?"

"Sure."

"There's no way that I can conduct a successful defense unless I know the truth."

"I did not--"

"No, Jeremy, let me explain myself before you say anything else. There are lawyers who lose interest in their clients when they believe that the person they're defending is guilty. I'm not one of them because that would mean I've become the judge. Let's say you did murder your mother or--"

"I didn't, Jessica."

"Alright, but for one minute, let's assume that you did. Can you do that?"

"Assume that I did?" he said, laughing. "Sure, if you want me to."

"Just for a minute," she said, with a smile. "Now what am I going to do when I go into court?"

"Assuming I'm guilty?"

"Yes."

"I don't know--what would you do?"

"Like you, Jeremy, I have a philosophy of life. It's different than yours, but since you seem to enjoy philosophy, I'd like to tell you about it."

"I'm listening," he said with interest.

"I believe we're children of a Higher Power, and so we all have the spark of the Creator within us. I'm not talking religion here--I'm talking spirituality. You understand the difference?"

"In other words, this isn't something that you learned in a church."

"Correct," she said in a pleased voice. "So each one of us is actually part of God. Given that, it's not my role to judge anyone or anything--not because it doesn't matter, Jeremy, but because I am, as you would say, far too small to make any judgments."

"Yes, I agree with that," said Jeremy.

"And so I stand against the whole concept of judgment. You understand what that means, Jeremy?"

Puzzled, he looked at her. "Not exactly." To him, it was fascinating to be discussing these big-ticket items with an attractive woman lawyer.

"Assuming you're guilty, Jeremy, it's not up to me to judge what happened between you and your mother. I will not participate in that kind of activity, and besides, we've invented judges and juries to perform that task."

Jeremy couldn't restrain himself from an intellectual debate. "But what if you were defending someone who was a serial killer?"

"I should draw the line there and make a judgment?"

"I would think so."

"You must have heard the old expression that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Judgment is the road to hell--that's why, in Christianity, the Last Judgment is associated with damnation."

"So even if I were guilty, it wouldn't affect your feelings towards me?"

"My feelings?" said Jessica, with surprise. "Of course it would affect my feelings. Just because I don't judge murderers doesn't mean that I'm going to like them or approve of what they did."

"I understand," said Jeremy.

"However, whether you are guilty or innocent, I intend to be your defender. But to do that, I need your help. I can't try to present a case that is based on a lot of lies that the prosecutor can poke holes through. It makes a big difference to me whether or not you committed this crime, but the reason for that is because it will affect the type of case I present to the jury. Do you believe me when I say that?"

"Yes, Jessica," he said, "I believe you." In actuality, he suspected that what he had just heard was a clever argument to pry some facts out of him.

"OK, now we come to the big question. Please look me in the eye and tell me the truth. Did you, or did you not, cause the death of your mother?"

"No, Jessica," he said as he gazed into the wonderland of her hazel eyes, "I did not murder my mother."

"That wasn't quite the question I asked, Jeremy. Did you, in any way, shape, or form cause or help to bring about the death of your mother?"

"Absolutely not."

She stared at him for a full ten seconds before she averted her gaze. "Alright, Jeremy, that's enough for today--I have to be in court in fifteen minutes. Please come back at three o'clock tomorrow afternoon, and we'll discuss your defense. Take some time and think about it overnight because I need to have your input on this."

"I will...and listen--this doesn't mean I murdered my mother because I didn't, but I appreciate what you said to me about judgment."

Jessica was ambivalent. She knew--it was plainly and painfully obvious to her--that Jeremy was attracted to her, so that made his avowal of innocence suspect. No man would ever admit something like that to a woman he was trying to impress. Very poor form! But she also knew that her interest in his guilt or innocence went beyond his court case. If only he were a blind date and not her client in a murder trial. But there was no way she was going down _that_ path.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:

## "I DON'T FEEL LIKE THROWING MY FATHER TO THE WOLVES."

Jeremy showed up the next day looking as if he had dressed for an important job interview. Conservative but stylish. Excellent, top-of-the-line cologne. The male bird was fluttering his feathers, but Jessica was annoyed because she knew it was ridiculous to become emotionally involved with a client. Pathetic! Like something out of a movie, a bad movie. She had to slam the door on that one and slam it hard. Maybe afterwards, if he were acquitted. Even then, it was probably a bad idea. And really, when she thought about it, there was only a 50-50 chance that the jury would find him innocent. However, the bigger question, when it came to any feelings that she might have for him, was whether he had actually murdered his mother. Despite Jeremy's claim that he was innocent, Jessica was ambivalent--true, he didn't seem capable of murder, but she could sense that he was lying to her in some way. And if he was innocent, why would he lie?

"Jeremy," she began, in a rather cold voice, "I want to talk over how I intend to defend you, and if there's anything that you don't agree with, you should say so."There was a scary look in her eyes, and Jeremy instinctively backed off. "Alright," he said, in a meek voice. He knew that he had overdone his appearance and that she was angry about it. Since she was still staring at him in a hostile fashion, he said, "I don't know much about the law, Jessica, so I'll follow your advice."

"That's not what I want you to do, Jeremy. You should listen carefully to what I say, and if it doesn't sound right to you, then speak up--once the trial begins, it will be far too late to do anything about it."

Jeremy felt as if he were being reprimanded by a teacher. He had given the most inoffensive answer he could devise, but it still wasn't good enough. He looked at her compassionately and said, "I'm sorry--I'll do the best I can."

After hesitating for a moment, Jessica said, "First of all, I don't think that I'm even going to bring up the fact that your mother's body was never found. Usually, this is an excellent tactic because many people who are not familiar with the law think that a person can't be charged with murder unless the prosecution can produce the body of the victim."

"I never thought that was very believable," said Jeremy.

"What wasn't believable?"

"When Brett Silvers talked about that at my father's trial, I didn't think anyone paid the least amount of attention to it."

"You're right, Jeremy. Brett and I discussed this with most of the jurors after the trial was over, and they all said that it had never even been mentioned during their deliberations."

"So it's pointless to talk about the missing body." It was depressing for Jeremy to see her in such a severe and antagonistic mood.

"It's even worse than that," she said. "To me, it sounds like desperation, and I know that was true in your father's case."

"I agree with you, Jessica; I don't have any problem with that decision at all."

"Because, really, the prosecution's case rests entirely on Shawn Evans."

"It sure does."

"So we have to destroy his credibility."

"That's what I don't understand, Jessica. Why do people believe him instead of me? I've never committed a crime, and nowadays, he's nothing but a drug addict who's supporting himself by holding up convenience stores."

"It's because of the beer bottles, Jeremy. He was there that night."

"Maybe so, but--"

"Not maybe, Jeremy--he was there."

"OK, he was there. So much the better--maybe he murdered her."

"That's the way these things go, Jeremy. The first one who says something is given the benefit of the doubt."

"And so I'm the liar! Listen to me, Jessica: I did not murder my mother, and I did not pay Shawn to murder my mother--in case anyone comes up with that idea."

Jessica looked carefully at him. Suddenly, intuitively, he seemed more believable to her. In a more friendly voice, she said, "Any idea why Shawn would do this to you?"

"I've thought about it, Jessica, but I can't come up with anything that would account for his behavior. It's possible that he blames me for interfering in his relationship with Selena, but I never did, and even if I had, it would never justify what he's done to me."

"But if Shawn thought you had interfered, then maybe that was his motive."

"Who knows?" said Jeremy bitterly. "It's possible, but only in the sense that anything is possible."

"But--"

"I understand--if he's lying, and he is, then it must be based on revenge." Jeremy laughed sarcastically and then said, "This is going to sound like I'm smearing drug users to save myself, but when a person becomes addicted to coke, they can become resentful and do some really nasty things. The Shawn I knew four years ago would never have resorted to armed robbery, and he would never have stabbed a friend like me in the back--even if I had done something to him."

"When was the last time you talked with him?"

"Probably two years ago--about a year after my mother's murder."

"Why did you drift apart?"

"He started associating with some big-time drug dealers from Detroit, and once that happened, I didn't want anything to do with him. Ounces of grass are one thing, but a quarter-pound of cocaine is a whole different ball game. I was actually frightened to be around him because I thought that somebody might shoot him."

"Shoot him?"

"He was always ripping people off--in fact, he bragged about it constantly."

Jessica shuffled through some papers on her desk until she found what she was looking for. "Jeremy, the prosecution is going to call Audrey Hammonds to the stand. I understand that she was your girlfriend at the time of the murder. Is that correct?"

"Sort of."

Jessica raised her eyebrows and looked at him curiously.

"I wouldn't," he said, "really agree to that terminology."

Jessica laughed. "The courts must be affecting you, Jeremy. Such official language! What kind of relationship did you have?"

Jeremy wanted to minimize his sexual relationships when he was around Jessica, but it didn't have anything to do with his court case. "It was casual."

"Pardon me for asking, Jeremy, but did you have a sexual relationship with her?"

"For a while."

"And this was occurring at the time of the murder?"

Jeremy appeared to be lost in his recollections. "I guess so--somewhere around then."

"How long were you involved with her?"

"I don't know--what difference does it make?"

"Jeremy--"

"Maybe nine months, maybe a year."

"Why did you break up with her?"

"This is kind of personal, isn't it? I know you're just trying to do your job...alright, let me think about it." But instead of answering, he remained silent.

"I'm not interested in prying into your life," said Jessica, "but the prosecution wouldn't be calling Audrey to the stand unless she was intending to say something damaging."

"When it comes to Audrey, I can't even begin to imagine what that would be."

"You--"

"Now I remember. The reason we broke up was that I found out she was seeing another guy. She just called it a fling, but I lost interest in her after that."

"Did you have a fight about it?"

"Was I violent towards her?" said Jeremy, with amusement.

"Yes--physically or verbally."

"That's an extremely high standard, Jessica. Have you ever been verbally violent to anyone in your life?"

Jessica laughed and said, "I see your point."

"Believe it or not, I wasn't even verbally violent towards Audrey. And let me just throw in here that I've never been physically violent towards anyone. What happened with Audrey was I phoned her and told her that I needed some space for a while. I was very cool about it, and anyways, I found out a long time ago that the worst thing you can do to a woman is become angry at her."

"Why's that?" said Jessica, out of curiosity.

"It's just burning your bridges. I get angry, of course, but I make it a point to keep it hidden. Women are very impressed when they expect you to lose your temper, but all you do is say something like 'That's OK, I understand.'" After he said this, Jeremy winked at her.

Jessica was finding it a little more difficult to resist his charm. "So, Jeremy," she said, in an amused way, "I guess you couldn't have told Audrey that you were about to bump off your mother."

"No, not in a million years would I have said something like that to her. And besides, I would never use a slangy expression like bump off."

"Wouldn't have said that you were about to knife her to death?"

"No--actually, I have a fear of knives."

"Guilty conscience?"

Jeremy laughed. "No, no--nothing like that. I just don't like the looks of them."

"Did you ever express any animosity about your mother while you were in Audrey's presence?"

"I never expressed any animosity towards my mother to anyone--ever!"

"So--"

"Except maybe when I was eight or nine years old--if that makes any difference."

Jessica smiled and said, "The prosecutor probably won't go back that far unless things are going really badly for him. But what about Audrey--you really have no idea what she's going to say?"

"Not a clue."

Jessica stared at him for a few moments and then changed the subject. "This might be a difficult thing for you to talk about, Jeremy, but I'd like to ask you whether you still feel that your father murdered your mother."

Jeremy seemed perplexed by the question. "I don't have any idea what happened that night, Jessica. It's possible that he had nothing to do with it, but I can't really say one way or another."

"But if Shawn is lying when he said he put the blood into the trunk of your father's car, then wouldn't your father still be the most likely suspect?"

"Maybe, maybe not--I haven't really thought about it that way. What difference does it make?"

"What difference? Jeremy, one of our best options is to claim that your father committed the murder."

"I'd rather try to disprove what Shawn said."

"Yes, we obviously have to attempt to do that, but if we're successful, then the responsibility for the murder will shift back to your father."

"I'd rather leave him out of it--he's been through enough already."

Jessica was surprised by Jeremy's attitude because she could remember how hostile he had been towards his father when he had given his victim impact statement at the sentencing hearing. "Jeremy, nothing I say at your trial can hurt your father because he's protected by the laws of double jeopardy."

"I know that, but go easy on him because I think Shawn is the one who murdered my mother."

"You didn't think that during your father's trial."

"But I do now."

"Why?"

"Because of everything that Shawn has said about what happened that night. He _knows_."

"Jeremy, do you really think that Shawn put the blood into your father's car?" To Jessica, this seemed extremely unlikely unless Shawn was telling the truth when he said he was following Jeremy's instructions.

Jeremy seemed hostile to the question. "I wasn't there, Jessica--all I know is that I didn't tell Shawn to put the blood anywhere. As to whether my father murdered my mother, I would say, now that I've had time to think about it, that Shawn's story absolves him, at least in my mind."

"But--"

"Jessica, I don't feel like throwing my father to the wolves. OK?"

Somehow, it seemed out of character for Jeremy to protect his father, but Jessica sensed that it would be futile to persist with any more questions about him. "Alright," she said, "let's talk about the two thousand dollars that Shawn said you gave him."

"I've been thinking that over because I know how important it is."

To Jessica, the "I've been thinking it over" sounded like the beginning of a fabrication, the polite word for a lie.

"The thing is," said Jeremy, "I may have given him some money around the time of the murder. It's certainly possible."

"What for?"

"To help him purchase drugs--I know, after some of the things I've said about Shawn, that this is kind of hypocritical."

"You gave him two thousand dollars for drugs?" said Jessica.

"Not all at once. I might have owed him five hundred and fronted him another five hundred."

"And the other thousand?" Jessica was trying not to let the disbelief show through her voice.

"Same thing, probably."

"What are you talking about? What same thing?"

"I was always fronting him money for drugs."

"What kind of drugs are you talking about?"

Since Jeremy was trying to impress Jessica, he felt it was essential to distinguish the differences between himself and Shawn, especially when it came to their choice of drugs. "Shawn bought and sold a lot of cocaine, but I only used marijuana. I don't like cocaine at all--it's a dangerous drug."

"And marijuana isn't?"

"No, that's just a lie invented by our alcoholic culture."

"OK, Jeremy," said Jessica, who was annoyed with his attitude about marijuana, "here's the problem with the two thousand dollars. You withdrew the money from your bank account two weeks before the murder, and Shawn deposited $1,500 in his bank account on Friday, September 10th, two days after the murder."

"What's the problem?"

"That just about eliminates the idea of two separate payments."

After a moment's reflection, Jeremy said, "Perhaps it does, but it also leads me to believe that I only gave him a thousand dollars, instead of two thousand."

"Jeremy, you withdrew two thousand from your account."

"So what does that prove? I must have used the other thousand for something else."

"But how is it that Shawn came up with the exact amount that you withdrew from the bank?"

"I have no idea--maybe I told him I had withdrawn $2,000 from the bank."

What a completely pathetic explanation, thought Jessica. Why? Why was he so obviously lying about this? "OK, Jeremy," she said with a sigh, "that's enough for today. I'm sorry I had to ask you so many tough questions. I want to remind you again that it's important to tell me the truth. I can't conduct your defense with one hand tied behind my back, and if I don't know the truth, the absolute truth, of what happened that night, then that's what I'll be doing."

"I understand."

"I'm not sure you do, Jeremy, because there are some things that just don't make sense to me."

"Like what?"

"Primarily, the bank withdrawal. Look, for both of our sakes, you've got to come up with a better explanation than what you've given me."

"You want me to lie?" he said, in a mischievous tone.

"No..." she said, carefully, "it's illegal for me to encourage perjury, but if you really are innocent of murdering your mother, then what you told me about the $2,000 doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe I can remember it better," he said, with a subtle cynicism.

"Maybe you can."

He looked directly at her and said, "Jessica, the last time we talked, you said that you didn't believe your role was to judge me."

"Yes, that's true."

"But I sense you're judging me now."

"Really?"

"Not in a legal sense but as a person," he said. "There's a lot of things that I could tell you, but it wouldn't be wise. I can't say anything more than that. I respect and value your opinion highly, and all I can say is that I am acting as best as I know how."

"And that means you can't tell me the truth?"

"I didn't say that," he said defensively.

No, but it was implied. "Let's stick to the bottom line, Jeremy. Did you have anything to do with the murder of your mother?"

"No, I did not, Jessica. And I'm not swearing that to God or to the court--I'm swearing that to you."

## CHAPTER THIRTY: ONCE YOU'RE GONE, NO ONE REALLY CARES

The trial of Jeremy Breen began on Monday, March 10th, 2008, and was presided over by Marlin Kearns--the same jurist who had handled the Dana Breen case. Jury selection was quicker and less contentious than it was in the first trial since both the prosecution and defense were uncertain as to who, among the prospective jurors, would be favorable to their cause. Except for the fact that the DNA evidence proved Karen Breen was the murder victim, it now had no other importance, so the prosecution had actually become somewhat averse to scientific, logical persons. Meanwhile, Jessica, after considering the matter carefully, decided that it might be best not to place all her bets on one horse, which meant that a diverse cross-section of the population would be the safest way to go. Surely, someone--or preferably everybody--would discount Shawn's story and stand up for Jeremy. However, Jessica wasn't sure whether those who would be inclined to vote for acquittal would be young or old, male or female, rich or poor. On instinct, she had tended to side with young females because she thought they would be attracted to Jeremy. Given that, it was not surprising that the final composition of the jury was nine women and three men, with five of the women being under thirty-two years of age. It was only when the jury had been seated and Jessica saw them as a group that she realized she had placed a fairly substantial bet on one horse. (Apparently, since Justin Merrill had not used any of his peremptory challenges on these women, he had come to the conclusion that they would be more inclined than the average citizen to convict a man who was accused of matricide.)

The trial was the object of much speculation from both the public and the press. The general consensus was that the prosecution's case was dubious. "Let's hope they get it right the second time around," beseeched the Lancaster Times on the opening day of the trial. The evidence against Jeremy's father had been much more convincing, and so, even if the jury were to find Jeremy guilty, the Times wondered how anyone could put much faith in its verdict. The public was also plagued by a subtle feeling of guilt--almost everyone had been outraged by the behavior of Dana Breen, and there were many who had protested the fact that the prosecutor had not sought the death penalty. The Times had been at the front of the death-penalty parade and had produced a strident editorial on the "extravagant leniency" of the prosecutor's decision. "If Dana Breen's conduct is not deserving of the most extreme punishment that society can inflict, then we might as well abandon the concept altogether." The Times had even produced a long list of murderers, dating back to 1954, who had escaped or, even worse, been released from prison and had gone on to murder another person. A very good point!

But if Dana really was innocent, then all these emotions and rationales had turned out to be woefully misguided, and they now served as yet one more warning that the death penalty was a dangerous remedy to the injustice of murder. To cover up their embarrassment, many of the death penalty proponents still insisted that Dana was guilty, and as a result, the fact that Jeremy was not facing the ultimate punishment drew very little comment from either the press or the public.

After the prosecution and defense made their opening statements, Justin Merrill began his case with the blood evidence that proved Karen Breen had actually been murdered. He then placed Jeremy's three speeding tickets into evidence and followed that by calling his first significant witness--Jeremy's ex-girlfriend, Audrey Hammonds. Jessica knew that Audrey was going to say something damaging but was totally unprepared for the blow that she delivered.

"Ms. Hammonds," said Justin, "as I understand it, you were Jeremy Breen's girlfriend at the time of the murder of his mother."

"That's correct." Audrey was an attractive, well-dressed woman with hair that had been dyed a stylish copper color.

"And you're not his girlfriend now?"

"No, I'm not."

"How would you describe Jeremy?"

Audrey looked towards Jeremy before she spoke. "He was very kind to me, and we had a lot of good times together."

Now, Jessica was terrified. She had expected Audrey to say that Jeremy had hit her or threatened her in some way. For a prosecution witness to speak so positively about the defendant was a very bad sign.

"Let's go back to the night of Karen Breen's murder, Ms. Hammonds. You remember that night?"

"Yes, I certainly do."

"Were you with Jeremy at any time during that night?"

"No, I wasn't."

"Had you been planning to spend some time with him that evening?"

"Yes."

"Please explain to us what happened."

"Originally, I had been planning to go with Jeremy to Norton's so that I could listen to him play guitar."

"Go on, Ms. Hammonds."

Audrey seemed reluctant to continue. Finally, after taking a deep breath that sounded like a sigh, she said, "Back then, I didn't have a car, so Jeremy was going to meet me at my parent's house, but around six, he phoned me and said that he had to work until seven and that he wouldn't have time to bring me with him."

"Were you surprised?"

"Yes, I was."

At the defense table, Jessica wrote, "Is this true?" on a piece of paper and shoved it at Jeremy. "Yes," he had replied.

"Why was that, Ms. Hammonds?"

"My parent's house was close to Lancaster, and my instinctive reaction was that Jeremy had met another woman and was planning to take her to Norton's, instead of me."

Jessica wrote "Is that true?" But Jeremy had simply stared at the paper with a blank expression on his face.

"Had he ever done anything like this before, Ms. Hammonds?"

"No, Jeremy was a reliable person, and that's why, at the time, it had worried me so much."

"No further questions," said Justin.

Jessica rose from the defense table and approached Audrey slowly as she stalled for time. "Ms. Hammonds, you mentioned that you are no longer in a relationship with Jeremy."

"That's correct." To Jessica, Audrey seemed not only cool and competent but also sincere and friendly. The perfect witness.

"Can you tell us why your relationship with him ended?"

Ordinarily, Justin would have objected, but he already knew that this line of questioning would prove to be fruitless, and he didn't want the jury to think he was hiding anything.

"Shortly after the murder of Jeremy's mother, I began to see another man--a man who would eventually become my husband. To tell you the truth, I kind of pushed Jeremy aside, and I will always be grateful to him for the way he handled it."

"He never expressed any anger towards you?"

"No, not at all."

Jessica didn't dare ask Audrey how far out of the way her parent's house was. (It was lucky she didn't because, later in the trial, the prosecution would show that Jeremy would only have had to detour a total of twelve miles to meet Audrey. This twelve miles would have been on Route 47, a sparsely traveled rural road that had a fifty-five mph speed limit, which meant, of course, that Jeremy would probably have been doing at least eighty. The owner of the bar would also testify that Jeremy's gig consisted of a casual, informal arrangement where he could begin playing anytime between seven-thirty and eight.)

After a noticeable hesitation, Jessica decided there was nothing to gain by asking Audrey any further questions, especially since Jeremy had already told her that Audrey's account was true. "No further questions," said Jessica. As she turned away from Audrey, she could see that the jury clearly recognized the significance of her testimony.

Afterwards, when she was able to talk to Jeremy about it, he claimed that his motive for not taking Audrey to Norton's had been a desire to meet another woman. "What woman?" said Jessica. Just from the tone of his voice, she didn't believe him.

"Her name?" said Jeremy.

"Yes, her name."

"Jessica, I didn't actually have a plan to meet a specific woman--I just wanted to keep my options open. I'll bet you've never played guitar in a bar," he said, with his charming smile.

"No, can't say that I have."

"Women were constantly coming up to me between sets, and sometimes, they'd just directly proposition me. And really, this bar was one of those places where the women were loose, and I didn't want Audrey to be exposed to something like that."

"So you weren't actually planning to go home with one of these women?"

Jeremy was caught in the middle--the last thing he wanted to do was tell Jessica that he picked up loose women in bars, especially when he hadn't, but... "Probably not, but it's possible."

"Had you ever done something like that before?"

"Once, when I was nineteen."

Jessica stared at him, and he seemed to wilt under her gaze. "Jeremy, look at me." Reluctantly, his eyes met hers. "I just don't trust you when you talk this way. I wish you would tell me the real reason why you didn't bring Audrey to the bar that night." She paused and waited for him to say something, but when he remained silent, she said, "Jeremy, the day is coming when you're going to wish that you had listened to me."

But Jeremy was too far down the road to turn back, and besides, if everything went wrong, he still had the secret trump card that would probably negate most of his losses. Or some of his losses. Because, at night, when he was alone, the terror would set in. If he were convicted, he would _have_ to play the trump card, but his life would still be ruined. And...what if the trump card were to mysteriously vanish? That was something he didn't dare allow himself to consider.

And as for Shawn Evans...Jeremy laughed because, for an instant, actually many instants, he had wanted to murder him. What Shawn had done was so despicable. But there I go, thought Jeremy. Didn't the desire to harm another spring from an overwhelming sense that it was important to do so? And wouldn't he be happier if he just retreated into his carefree nothing-matters philosophy and forgot about all the anxiety that had been created inside himself because he was so fixated upon his supposedly significant troubles? What good had worry ever done anyone? That was such a useless emotion. So self-defeating. Just sitting around chewing on your fingers and popping pills like Valium because you were afraid the ax was going to fall on your completely irrelevant, hyperventilating head.

Perhaps, thought Jeremy, this was an excellent time to meditate upon a real conundrum: How was it that human beings always found themselves ensnared in the tentacles of the mirage of significance when, in point of fact, there was nothing in a person's life that amounted to anything that could be graced with the word important. Or, to take the other side, was there something about the human's perpetual sense of self-importance that masked an underlying reality?

Jeremy hoped that the second alternative, which seemed illogical to him, was false because if it were the truth, it opened the door to all the miseries that human beings had endured for centuries. Then everyone would have the right, the privilege, and the duty to crow about their own importance as they carried on their righteous wars for God, state, and everything else under the sun. Physical existence was difficult enough without the oppressive burden of believing that one's life had some significance. Somehow or other, men and women had to come to terms with the reality that the universe presented to them: Every human being was unimportant, dust in the wind--nothing more than a subatomic particle in the great scheme of things.

Speaking of trump cards, God was a master at that game. In His Infinite Wisdom, He had set aside a special treat for those who were still inclined to prance around with their own sense of self-importance--death. That really wiped the slate clean! That totally destroyed the concept of the self as an important entity. Just blasted it to smithereens. Poof! You're gone and no one really cares. Oh sure--there's the funeral. But what about in a year or ten years? How about a thousand? A million? A billion? Granted, your family could pay a fortune and write a forty-page obituary and have it etched in a block of granite, but the fact remained that you had been obliterated forever. Poof! The Big Guy has spoken.

However, as gloomy as it might seem, the reality of death and what it meant might not be completely negative. As Jeremy lay awake at night and thought about extinction, he felt that death might be just another gigantic mirage--the final mirage-- that no one had ever been unable to understand. How could they? How could anyone who lived in the land of the all-important ego possibly understand anything--especially death, the ultimate insignificance? Yes, the ego died, but since the ego was nothing but a self-inflicted mirage, death might not be nearly the monster that the ego had created out of its fears.

## CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: "THIS IS JUST ASININE NONSENSE."

The prosecution had really gone the extra mile with Shawn Evans, and he looked like one of those handsome young studs that appears in a soap opera where his role is to send a married woman into an illicit swoon. Gone was his long, straggly, unkempt hair--now, after a fashionable and probably expensive cut, it was a mere three inches long. He was wearing blue jeans along with a white shirt, and when he spoke, his voice was pleasant and respectful. In the courtroom, the older women would have been happy to have had him for a son, while the younger women were hoping that when they went to the dance floor later that night, they would meet Shawn's twin.

After questioning Shawn extensively about the $2,000 that Jeremy had given him, Justin reached the night of the murder. There was silence in the courtroom as Justin asked him, "And so Jeremy Breen went up the stairs towards his mother's bedroom. What happened next?"

"It was maybe two minutes later--"

"Excuse me, Shawn, where were you at this point?"

"I was standing by the doorway that leads out of the kitchen."

"The door was open?"

"Yes."

"So you could see the stairway that went up to the second floor?"

"Yes, it was only six or seven feet from where I was standing."

"And did there come a time when someone came down those stairs?"

"Yes. Shortly after Jeremy had gone upstairs, I heard the sound of someone running towards the stairs, and then a few seconds later, Jeremy's mother came running past me."

Jeremy grabbed a pen, and on one of Jessica's legal pads, he wrote, "This is a total lie."

"Past you?" said Justin. "In what direction?"

"When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she didn't turn into the kitchen but pushed open the back door and ran out of the house."

"Did she see you?"

"No, she appeared to be terrified--as if she were running out of a burning house."

"Where was Jeremy?"

"He was right behind her--in fact, he was so close to her that as she was pushing open the back door, he reached out with his hand and grabbed her by the collar of her nightgown. From where I was standing, I could actually see the nightgown being torn off her back."

"And then?"

Continuing to speak in a mild, conversational voice, Shawn said, "Immediately after that, Jeremy came running into the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the counter."

Jessica could hear Jeremy as he muttered, "This is just asinine nonsense."

"What did you observe about him?" said Justin.

"Jeremy was panting, and I'm not sure that he even saw me, but I could hear him say that he was going to slash the throat of the bitch, and then--"

" _LIAR!"_ Jeremy had leaped out of his chair and was pointing at Shawn.

The judge banged his gavel down, and in a very stern tone said, "Sit down and be quiet, Mr. Breen, or I will have you removed from the courtroom."

"No! No, I won't--not when this pathetic jerk is claiming that I called my mother a bitch."

"Your Honor," said Jessica desperately.

Even though the bailiffs were approaching Jeremy to carry out the judge's instructions, he was by no means finished. Pointing again at Shawn, he said, "Everything he's said is nothing but garbage from a convicted criminal and sexual predator. Shawn--why don't you tell them about that woman you raped a couple of years ago."

Now, with that accusation, the scene in the courtroom descended into chaos. Jessica and the prosecutor had no idea whether Jeremy's allegation had any merit to it, but both of them knew that his outburst would almost certainly lead to a mistrial.

Just as the bailiffs grabbed Jeremy, he said, "And Shawn--let's not forget about the ten-year-old boy you dragged into the woods that afternoon. You know who I'm talking about!"

Now it was Shawn who lost his temper. He had not been handcuffed for his court appearance, and he literally leaped out of the witness chair and ran towards Jeremy, who had wrenched himself free from the bailiffs. For a few moments everyone was stunned as they watched these two former friends explode in physical rage. Jeremy met Shawn head on in front of the judge's bench where a wild melee began as the two of them grappled with each other. Completely oblivious to everyone but themselves, Shawn hurled Jeremy towards the defense table, but when he caught up with Jeremy and grabbed him, Jeremy used his attacker's momentum to throw him onto the defense table. Papers, books, and Jessica all went flying in different directions as Jeremy leaped on top of Shawn and started pounding him in the face before both of them slid off the table and landed with a resounding crash on the floor. By this time, the portly bailiffs had caught up with them, and there was a prolonged ruckus behind the table until the two enraged combatants were separated. As they were forcibly dragged apart from each other, Shawn said, "You'll die for this, Jeremy. One of these days, we'll meet in prison, and I'll stick a knife right through your sorry heart."

Jeremy's response was to spit at Shawn. Pointing at Justin Merrill, Jeremy said, "How does it feel to be sleeping in bed with a sexual predator?"

The judge now had no choice but to declare a mistrial, and it was two months before the second trial could begin. Besides the expense and aggravation of a second trial, Justin was further enraged because Jeremy's claim that Shawn had raped a woman and molested a minor appeared to be false since he had never been accused of a sexual crime. Although Jeremy remained free on bail, he would now also be facing a contempt of court charge.

"Jeremy," said Jessica, the day after the first trial had passed into oblivion, "why did you do it? What was the point?"

"I know--it was probably a stupid thing to do," he said, with an audible sigh.

"I thought you were this even-tempered guy who didn't take things seriously and go overboard."

Gloomy and stone-faced, he sat before herwithout saying a word.

"So why did you do it, Jeremy?"

"Jessica, I know I shouldn't have, but when I heard him say that I was going 'to slash the throat of the bitch,' I just lost it. I loved my mother--I would have done anything for her, and to hear someone say something like that was too much. To tell you the truth, I don't regret it."

"Is anything you said about Shawn actually true?"

"Absolutely--he's a liar, a clever and vicious liar."

"What about the sexual allegations? Are they--"

Jeremy's mood darkened. "Can you prove they aren't? Isn't that what I'm supposed to do--prove that I didn't murder my mother? Shawn Evans has molested many people, and nothing I said about him was a lie."

## CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO:

## "I THINK I REMEMBER...NO, WAIT A MINUTE--MAYBE I DON'T."

Between the two trials, Jeremy tried to come to terms with his peculiar situation. Every time the name Shawn Evans went through his mind, he would fly off the rails and plunge into a fantasy of revenge. What could one actually do when a person stabbed you in the back and said the things that Shawn had said? Slashing the throat of the bitch--no matter where he went or what he did, Jeremy couldn't get those words out of his mind.

On a cloudy but warm day in early May, Jeremy retreated into his favorite spot in the forest. He knew that he had to calm down, and dope always mellowed him out into some kind of alpha state. After he had finished smoking a joint, he sat with his back to a tree and began to zone out into the stratosphere. Peace! He wondered how he could have let himself slide into such an emotional uproar over someone like Shawn Evans. So what? As the birds chirped away with their bizarre, never-ending optimism, Jeremy became entranced by the possibility that every negative feeling could be negated with the single two-word expression: So what? The mantra of the sages! Here was the antidote to everything--not only for himself personally but for humanity as a whole.

And anyways, in the vast field of life, one was bound to encounter a traitor like Shawn. Big deal! But blowing your cool wasn't the way to deal with them. All that did was give you a terrible feeling--a kind of emotional agony, and the agony centered around the nature of rage, which was such a pathetic and useless emotion. He could get as angry as he liked, but it wouldn't change the nature of the situation, and Jeremy could see that he would be far better off if he remembered, to the point of obsession, the central realization: Nothing a human experiences has any real importance. And so, although it was hardly anything that he was looking forward to, jail was not something to dread. It was better to accept the possibility that it might happen--that way, the specter of a prison cell simply vanished into the so what? universe.

But he had to be cool. As soon as one became angry, one admitted his ignorance. Anger was the clue that one didn't understand anything. The same thing was true with sorrow, which was just the feminine expression of anger. Both emotions presupposed as absolute facts that something important had happened. And when you defied the conditions of existence, where everything was unimportant, was it any wonder that you ended up falling into a rage or a major depression?

At the second trial, over the objection of Jessica, Jeremy had not been permitted in the courtroom during Shawn's testimony. During her cross-examination of him, Jessica made a number of unsuccessful attempts to point out inconsistencies in his story, but Shawn was able to brush her questions aside and presented himself as a trustworthy witness. Finally, at the conclusion of Shawn's second day on the stand, Jessica turned to the $2,000 that he claimed Jeremy had given him, but her questions seemed less than incisive and somewhat forced.

"Mr. Evans," she said, "is it your contention that the money Jeremy gave you was to help him murder his mother?"

"No," he said reflectively, "I've said this many times--what Jeremy told me was that we were going to terrorize his mother. He never, not once, mentioned the word murder to me."

"Even so, you realize that you're an accomplice to murder, don't you?"

"I suppose, technically, that I am."

"Didn't you have the power to prevent this murder?"

Shawn looked puzzled. "How so?"

"Mr. Evans, didn't it occur to you to call the police and tell them what Jeremy was planning?"

"No, that didn't occur to me."

"Why not?"

"Tell them what? That we were planning to frighten a mother? How silly would that sound? Besides, up until the time Jeremy gave me the money, I never thought he'd go through with it. He always said that he loved his mother, so I thought it was just a lot of hot air--Jeremy was always making threats that he never carried out."

"And when, supposedly, did he give you the two thousand dollars?"

"Not supposedly, Ms. Woods--Jeremy gave me the money late in the afternoon of the day that his mother was murdered."

"Mr. Evans, I would think that when he gave you the money, you must have realized that he was serious."

"Actually, no--Jeremy's basically a non-violent person, and so I thought that at the last moment, he would back down."

"Even though he gave you two thousand dollars?"

"Ms. Woods," said Shawn casually, "I'm no saint, and at the time the murder occurred, I was desperate for money. So I thought--and hoped--that Jeremy would never go through with it and that I would just walk away with the two grand."

"And you expect people to believe that?"

"Objection. Counsel is badgering the witness."

"Sustained."

"Mr. Evans, have you ever been arrested?"

Justin was on his feet for this one. "Objection--Mr. Evans's criminal record is completely irrelevant."

"Will both of you please approach the bench," said the judge.

Once there, Jessica said, "Your Honor, the defense intends to show that even if my client did give Mr. Evans two thousand dollars, it was for the purpose of obtaining drugs."

"Ms. Woods," said the judge, in a low voice so that the jury could not hear him, "do you intend to offer proof of this?"

"Proof? The man has been arrested three times for selling drugs, and I need to show proof that he may have wanted money for this activity?"

"Your Honor," said Justin, "I need hardly remind you that in case after case, a witness's prior criminal record has been ruled inadmissible."

"Unless," said the judge as he looked at Jessica, "it can be directly proved to have some connection to the issue at hand."

"Your Honor," said Jessica with unfeigned animosity, "while Mr. Evans's prior criminal acts are not directly related to the money he may have received from my client, there is no doubt that they are relevant."

"That's not good enough Ms. Woods--the law is quite clear on this point, and I am sustaining Mr. Merrill's objection."

"Your Honor--"

"Ms. Woods, you cannot bring up his previous record," said the judge.

"I assume," said Jessica sarcastically, "that I can at least ask him if he used the money to purchase drugs?"

Jessica's question had merely been a flippant response to the judge's ruling, but to her amazement, Justin put up a fight. "Your Honor," he said, "that's the same thing the other way around. What difference does it make how he used the money? It was his money."

"Your Honor," said Jessica, "that's not what we're arguing. Of course he can spend the money any way he likes. What we're contending is this: If my client did give Mr. Evans money, it was not for the purpose of murdering his mother but for the purchase of drugs."

"Ms. Woods," said the judge, "you can ask him that question, but you are not to refer to Mr. Evans's previous record. Clear?"

Frustrated, Jessica left the bench, walked back to the defense table, and stared at Shawn. "Mr. Evans," she said, "is it possible that you accepted this money from Jeremy so that you could purchase drugs and that your acceptance of this money had nothing to do with any prospective plan to terrorize his mother?"

"That's absolutely false."

"No further questions," said Jessica, who felt defeated by the rules of the legal system.

The defense began its case with Andrea Patterson, who was Shawn's girlfriend at the time of his arrest for the robbery at the convenience store.

"Ms. Patterson," said Jessica, "last August, were you the girlfriend of a man named Shawn Evans?"

"Yes, I was."

"Do you still have a relationship with him?"

"No."

"Can you tell us the reason you no longer have a relationship with him?"

Justin felt certain that this was a back-door attempt to introduce Shawn's criminal record. "Objection--irrelevant."

"Sustained."

"Ms. Patterson," said Jessica, with some exasperation, "did Shawn Evans ever talk to you about the defendant in this trial, Jeremy Breen?"

"Yes, on a couple of occasions."

By now, Jessica could sense that Andrea was trying to minimize her testimony. In her pre-trial deposition, she had said that Shawn talked about him frequently. "And what did Shawn say about Jeremy?"

"Not that much," she said defensively.

"Really? Let me refresh your memory, Ms. Patterson. On November 14, 2007, did you come to my office for the purpose of giving a deposition?"

"Yes, I'm not sure of the date, but I remember the deposition."

"Do you remember that before you gave this deposition, you swore an oath that your testimony to me would be the truth?"

"Yes."

"And I presume you did tell the truth?"

"Yes, I did." Andrea was nervously twisting a piece of tissue with her hands as she spoke.

"Here is a quote from your statement. 'Question: Did Shawn talk about Jeremy frequently?' And your reply was 'Yes, he was obsessed with Jeremy.' Do you remember what you said next, Ms. Patterson?"

"I think I remember...no, wait a minute--maybe I don't."

"You said, and I quote, 'Shawn seemed to have some kind of vendetta against Jeremy.'"

"I said that?" said Andrea, who appeared to be genuinely surprised.

Jessica looked at the judge and said, "Permission to treat as a hostile witness."

"Granted."

"Ms. Patterson, I presume you realize that you have just taken an oath to tell the truth?"

"Yes, I understand that."

"Then how is it," said Jessica abrasively, "that you suddenly can't remember what you said in this deposition?"

"That was almost a year ago, and--"

"No, Ms. Patterson, it was six months ago. Also, when I asked you a couple of minutes ago if Shawn had talked about Jeremy, you didn't say anything about not remembering. Rather, what you've done here is to come up with a new version of what you told me during the deposition."

Justin wanted to object, but he couldn't think of any reasonable grounds, and he knew that it would appear to be a sign of weakness. This was, after all, a witness for the defense.

"So, Ms. Patterson, which is it? Did Shawn talk about a vendetta against Jeremy, or are you going to stick with your new-found memory that whatever he said about Jeremy was, quote, 'not that much'?"

"Look," said Andrea, "I can't really remember that far back. If I said it then, it's probably what happened, but today, as I sit here, I don't remember much of my relationship with Shawn."

"So, Ms. Patterson, do you also forget this?" Jessica picked up the deposition and read: "'Question: What kind of vendetta was he talking about?' And your reply was: 'I'm not sure exactly--all he said was that Jeremy had stabbed him in the back and that he was going to do the same thing to him.'"

Andrea stared blankly at Jessica.

"Do you remember saying that, Ms. Patterson?"

"No, not really, but..."

"But what, Ms. Patterson?"

"I'll take your word for it because...because I just don't remember."

"No further questions," said Jessica, with obvious disgust.

Justin looked carefully at Andrea. With her loud lipstick, short skirt, and smoker's voice, she was not an impressive witness.

"Andrea," he said mildly, "you mentioned that you no longer have a sexual relationship with Mr. Evans. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"When did your relationship with him end?"

"Sometime last fall."

"Can you tell us why your relationship with him ended?"

"Objection!" said Jessica. "Irrelevant."

"Overruled."

"Overruled?" said a shocked Jessica. "The prosecutor's question is almost exactly the same question that I asked Ms. Patterson, and when Mr. Merrill objected to my question, you sustained the objection."

"No, it's in an entirely different context, counselor--you should remember that this is your witness."

"Did you have an argument with Shawn?" continued Justin.

"Yes."

"What was the argument about, Andrea?"

"I caught him in bed with another woman. Not just a bed--my bed, our bed."

"So when you gave your deposition to Ms. Woods, is it fair to say that you felt animosity towards Mr. Evans?"

"Yes, of course."

"Could it be that this might have produced some exaggerations in your deposition?"

It was apparent that Andrea was trying to determine whether, in a legal context, an exaggeration amounted to a lie. "Perhaps," she said, after a noticeable hesitation.

"No further questions," said Justin.

"Ms. Woods?" said the judge.

Jessica wanted to slap Andrea in the face. "Ms. Patterson, did Shawn say that Jeremy had stabbed him in the back and that he was going to do the same thing to him? Yes or no?"

"I think so."

"You think so? In your deposition, you--"

"Alright, he probably said something like that. What of it?"

"No further questions."

Jessica was infuriated--this was potentially excellent testimony, but after such a pathetic performance by Andrea, it had become useless because the jury would certainly find a way to discount it. However, on the day of her deposition, Andrea had not been the confused, chaotic mess that she had just presented to the world. She had, rather, been quite convincing, and Jessica had felt certain that she was telling the truth.

(Andrea's testimony at the trial had been so far removed from what she had said at her deposition that Jessica would always be suspicious that Justin had found a way to intimidate her. A few questions from him about her drug use, for instance, might have been all that was needed to bend her mind into the proper channel. And Justin didn't have to be a genius to realize that any woman who was sleeping with Shawn Evans would be vulnerable on the issue of drugs.)

## CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE:

## "I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP--THIS IS WHAT HE ACTUALLY TOLD ME."

Until he walked up and took the oath, no one had known whether Jeremy would speak in his own defense. Jessica had done her best to dissuade him because as the trial progressed, he had begun to act strangely, and she was worried about what he might say. During Andrea's testimony, he had yawned frequently while he doodled on a note pad in front of him. At the top of one page, he had scrawled, "Roses are red, but the universe is mostly blue. What does that mean? I wish I knew." During their two-hour meeting on the evening before he testified, he had said nothing that reassured her. After she had scolded him for his lackadaisical attitude, he said, "Jessica, it's important for me not to take things too seriously because my odds of being acquitted aren't improved if I come into court and act like I think what I'm about to say is important."

"Jeremy--"

"Let me ask you this: Do women, do you, fall for guys who take themselves seriously?"

"No, but this is different, Jeremy. In a court of law, a lack of gravity will be seen as a sign of disrespect."

Jeremy laughed. "Jessica, lighthearted people don't go around murdering people--it's the serious ones that you have to watch out for. So doesn't it make sense for me to present myself as a carefree, easygoing guy?"

Despite these amiable sentiments, it would not be long before Jessica realized that everything he had said to her was designed to conceal his real intentions.

Jessica began her direct examination of Jeremy by asking him whether he had murdered his mother.

Jeremy was dressed casually--jeans and a beige shirt that was open at the collar. "No, I did not."

"Did you in any way cause the death of your mother?"

"Absolutely not," he said in a calm voice.

"Jeremy, there has been testimony here from your ex-girlfriend, Audrey Hammonds, that you phoned her on the night of your mother's murder and said you would not be able to bring her to Norton's, the bar where you were playing guitar that night. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Why did you decide not to bring Audrey with you?"

"I was supposed to meet Shawn Evans there."

"Excuse me?" said Jessica, who was thunderstruck by what she had just heard. They had gone over his testimony many times, and he had never mentioned meeting Shawn at Norton's. Rather, he had continued to maintain that he didn't want to be encumbered by Audrey.

"Shawn and I were planning to meet there." He was staring at her in a friendly, innocent way, and she knew that he wanted her to ask the obvious question.

"Why were you planning to meet him there, Jeremy?" Talk about sailing into uncharted seas!

"Shawn had phoned me earlier in the day and said that he had to talk to me because he was in trouble and needed my help. I didn't want Audrey to be present because Shawn was not the kind of person anyone would want to introduce to a girlfriend."

"And did Shawn meet you at Norton's?"

"Not inside. He told me that he would be waiting outside and that we could talk in my car. He said he would be standing near the front entrance around nine."

Why had he never told her about this? Jessica assumed Jeremy was lying, but she had no choice but to continue.

"And was he there?"

"Yes, it was about ten past nine, during a break, when I went outside, and he was standing there looking depressed and--"

"Objection--calls for a conclusion on the part of the witness." Like Jessica, Justin had no idea where this was heading, but he was certain that Jeremy was about to say something dramatic.

"Sustained," said the judge. "Please just tell us what happened, Mr. Breen, and refrain from making any descriptions based on your observations."

"I'm sorry, Your Honor," said Jeremy pleasantly.

"Did the two of you go to your car?" asked Jessica.

"Yes."

"And you had a conversation there?"

"Yes. He told me that--I'm sorry to have to say this, but Shawn said he had molested--"

"OBJECTION!" Justin was on his feet.

"On what grounds?" said the judge.

"This is _exactly_ what happened at the first trial, Your Honor. Shawn Evans is not on trial here, and he has never been accused of anything like what Mr. Breen is about to say."

"I understand your concern, counselor, but I cannot sustain your objection." The judge turned towards Jeremy and said, "Mr. Breen, I do hope you realize that you're under oath?"

"Yes, Your Honor, and I take that obligation seriously."

"Let me just remind you that there are severe penalties for perjury."

"I understand that."

"Proceed, Ms. Woods," said the judge, who was looking at Jeremy skeptically.

"Shawn Evans said that he had molested someone?"

"Yes, it was a ten-year-old boy--at least that's what he told me."

Jessica had no idea what to ask next. "And why was he telling you this?"

"At that time we were friends, and when he had phoned me earlier that evening, he had asked me to bring two thousand dollars to Norton's."

"Did he ask you for money often, Jeremy?" Because she was so unprepared for Jeremy's testimony, Jessica's questions were sometimes haphazard and illogical.

"Yes, but it had never been for more than five hundred dollars."

"You had, in the past, loaned him as much as five hundred dollars?"

"Yes."

"And had he paid you back?"

"Objection--I can't imagine a more irrelevant question."

"Sustained."

"And why had you loaned him money?" asked Jessica. She knew what the answer to this question would be and was surprised that Justin didn't put forth an objection.

"Sometimes, it was just twenty dollars here and there, but the larger amounts were all connected to the purchase of drugs."

"Objection--besides being completely irrelevant, this is simply another attempt to slander the prosecution's witness."

Before the judge could say anything, Jessica said, "I think not, Your Honor. Shawn Evans has been convicted three times of--"

"Objection! Objection!"

"I heard you, counselor," said the judge peevishly, "and while I am overruling your initial objection, I am sustaining your second one."

Justin slammed his palm down on the table in front of him, which drew the ire of the judge. "One more display of that nature, Mr. Merrill, and I will cite you for contempt. Is that clear?" Turning towards Jessica, the judge said, "Ms. Woods, we've been through this before, and I thought I made it quite plain to you that any mention of Mr. Evan's past involvement with the law was off limits--even if it is in response to an objection."

"Yes, Your Honor--I apologize."

"Alright, you may continue."

"With what?" said Justin.

"Excuse me--what did you just say?" said Judge Kearns in an ominous tone.

Justin was still standing and glaring at the judge. If it hadn't been for Jeremy's outburst at the first trial, Justin might have been inclined to place some small credence in his testimony, but just because of that outburst, he felt certain that Jeremy was lying. "So what are we going to hear now, Your Honor? Another concoction of lies from the defendant that leads to another mistrial?"

"Mr. Merrill, I am citing you for contempt. Now sit down and be quiet, or I will have you removed from the courtroom." As he continued to cast a severe look in the prosecutor's direction, the judge said, "Please continue, Ms. Woods."

Jessica couldn't remember either her last question or Jeremy's answer and had to ask the court reporter to read them back.

"So is it correct to say," said Jessica, "that when you loaned Shawn Evans a large sum of money, it was connected to the purchase of drugs?"

"Yes."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because he told me."

"Now, previously," said Jessica, "you testified that you thought Shawn's request for the two thousand dollars was related to the purchase of drugs. Is--"

"Objection--the witness said no such thing."

"Sustained."

"Jeremy," said Jessica, "when Shawn Evans phoned you on the night of the murder and asked you for the two thousand dollars, did you believe he wanted the money so that he could purchase drugs?"

"That's correct. About a week before the night of my mother's murder, he had told me there was a large quantity of cocaine coming into Lancaster from a dealer who operated out of Detroit. Shawn had wanted the money then, but he was not good with money, so I told him to wait until the day he intended to purchase the drugs."

"And so you and Mr. Evans went to your car and had a conversation?"

"Yes, but what he said to me was not what I expected."

"What did he say to you?"

"Shawn has always had trouble with boys--"

"Objection!"

"Sustained."

"Jeremy," said Jessica, "just tell us what he said to you."

"He said that earlier in the afternoon, he had met a young boy who was walking home from grammar school and had lured this kid into the woods."

"And?" asked Jessica.

In an apologetic tone, Jeremy said, "Shawn was very upset when he was talking to me. He said that, this time, he had gone too far, and he was afraid that the kid would tell his parents, who would contact the police."

"Jeremy--"

"And I might add that this wasn't his first time with boys," said Jeremy, in a suddenly intense and outraged voice.

"Objection! This is just totally absurd."

"Sustained. Mr. Breen--"

"This is what he told me that night, Your Honor," said Jeremy. "I'm not making this up--this is what he actually told me."

"As you were sitting in your car outside Norton's?"

"Yes."

"Alright, the objection is overruled."

"Objection--Your Honor, the witness is clearly lying."

"Overruled."

"Your Honor--"

"Mr. Merrill, it is up to the jury to decide whether the testimony of this witness is truthful."

"Your Honor, it's preposterous for you to allow Jeremy Breen to influence your rulings."

"Mr. Merrill, he has done no such thing."

"On the contrary, Your Honor, this court is bending over backwards to accommodate him. First you sustain my objection, and then when Mr. Breen is kind enough to offer you legal advice--"

"Watch yourself, Mr. Merrill, or I'll have you removed from the courtroom. Now, unless you're eager to spend the night in a jail cell, I advise you to show some respect for the bench."

"Your Honor--"

"Sit down, Mr. Merrill--for the final time, your objection is overruled." As Justin returned, ever so slowly, to his seat, Judge Kearns turned towards Jessica and said, "You may continue, Ms. Woods."

"So if I understand you correctly," said Jessica to Jeremy, "Mr. Evans told you that this wasn't the first time he had molested a child?"

"Yes, he confessed to me that he had a sexual addiction for young boys."

"Had you known about this before your conversation at Norton's?"

"No, although given his track record, nothing--"

"Objection."

"Sustained. Mr. Breen," said the judge in a harsh voice, "do not favor us with any editorial comments whatsoever. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly--I understand that in a court of law, the truth isn't relevant."

"Mr. Breen, I've about had enough of you."

"Likewise," said Jeremy in a sharp voice.

Shocked, the judge reflexively pounded his gavel down, and said, "Mr. Breen--one more word from you and I will dismiss you from the stand and revoke your bail. Is that understood?"

Jeremy nodded his head affirmatively and stared placidly into space. After a long pause, the judge said, "Ms. Woods, you may continue with your questions, but if I were you, I would advise your client to behave himself."

Jessica, totally distracted by the fracas between the judge and Jeremy, reflexively blurted out the first thing that came into her mind. "And Mr. Evans--I think you said that, this time, he was afraid that he would be caught?"

"Yes. Shawn thought--"

"Objection--I don't understand the question. Caught for what?"

"Overruled--I think it's clear what the question refers to."

"Not to me, Your Honor," said Justin.

Judge Kearns seemed to be on the verge of completely losing his temper. In a slow, ponderous, threatening voice, he said, "The sexual molestation charge, Mr. Merrill. Is that clear enough for you? Or would you like the witness to repeat the details of the allegation?"

Justin made no reply, and after a few seconds, the judge turned to Jeremy and said, "The witness may answer the question."

"For some reason," said Jeremy, "Shawn was convinced that the police would show this boy a mug shot from one of his drug arrests. 'I can't,' said Shawn, 'be caught for doing something like this. I'm just totally ashamed of myself.' And then he began to cry--it was the first time in all my life that I had ever seen him do that."

"Your Honor," said Justin, "haven't we had enough of this?"

"Is that an objection, Mr. Merrill?"

"Yes, I object. How many times do I have to object before--"

"The objection is overruled," said the judge laconically.

"Your Honor--"

"Overruled, Mr. Merrill--now please be so good as to listen attentively to the testimony of the witness." Judge Kearns was pointing ominously at Justin with his index finger--as if he were about to shoot him.

"You were saying?" said Jessica to Jeremy, as she roller skated over the slippery ice of his testimony. She had no idea what he had been talking about before Justin's interruption--all she could remember was that Shawn and Jeremy had gone to his car.

"Shawn literally begged me for the two grand so he could escape from Lancaster and start a new life."

"And you said?"

"He was my best friend in high school, so I said yes."

"And you gave him the money while you were sitting in your car?"

"Yes, I did."

Jessica had recovered her bearings and was so skeptical of Jeremy's story that she asked a prosecutorial question. "Do you know of any reason why, if Shawn was in such a hurry to leave Lancaster, he would have gone back to your parent's house?"

"When we were talking in the car, he mentioned my sister Selena quite a few times, and--"

"They had once had a sexual relationship?"

"Yes."

"And what did he say about her?"

"The two of them had broken up about six weeks before the murder, and Shawn was very bitter about it. And so I think he went back to--"

"Objection."

"Sustained."

"Can you tell us what, if anything, he actually said?"

"Exactly?"

"If you can."

Jeremy considered this for some seconds. "As best as I can remember, he said, 'I know she's your sister, Jeremy, but there's no way that I'm going to let her forget what she's done to me.' And then he said that before he left town, he was determined to get everything back that he had ever given to her."

"And your reply was?"

"I ignored it because I assumed from what he had told me that he was leaving town immediately."

"Jeremy, do you have any reason to believe that Mr. Evans might have murdered your mother?"

"It's certainly possible--he admits that he was there, and--"

"Objection--Mr. Breen is not a detective, and this is nothing but rank speculation."

"Sustained."

"No further questions," said Jessica.

As she walked back to the defense table, Jessica wondered if she should talk to the judge and tell him that she had not been aware of what Jeremy's testimony would entail. She was convinced that almost everything he had said had been nothing but lies, and if those lies were ever exposed, she could be accused of suborning perjury--a very serious charge that could wreck her career. But in the end, given the fact that she had no proof Jeremy was lying, she decided that talking to the judge would be both awkward and useless.

## CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: THE INSOLENT ONE

Justin Merrill began his cross-examination by attempting to discredit Jeremy's account of his meeting with Shawn on the night of the murder. Jeremy had maintained his composure and answered Justin's questions in a calm, almost conciliatory way. But as often happened when Jeremy was faced with persistent inquiries from people that he considered to be idiots, he began to lose his temper and started to say things that were not helpful to his defense.

"How is it, Mr. Breen, that when you were interrogated by the police, you never once mentioned these criminal activities of Mr. Evans?"

"There are so many criminal activities, Mr. Merrill. Which ones are you referring to?"

"The sexual allegations, Mr. Breen."

"At that time, I considered him to be my friend, and--"

"No, Mr. Breen, that won't do. Mr. Evans had just implicated you in a murder, and you still considered him to be a friend?"

"When I was being questioned by Lyle Hawkins, I couldn't believe that Shawn had gone so far as to implicate me in the murder of my mother, and because his accusation against me was so ludicrous, I thought Detective Hawkins was making it up."

"Making it up? He informed you about the DNA tests on the beer bottles--correct?"

"Yes, he did."

"And you thought that was a lie?"

"No, actually I didn't. But what does that really prove?"

"It proves Shawn Evans was in your house at the time of your mother's murder."

"No, it doesn't necessarily prove that--as I understand it, the beer bottles merely prove he was there sometime during the night."

"No, Mr. Breen, he was there at the time of the murder."

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and said, "Whatever you say, Mr. Merrill. But what does that prove in relation to his allegations against me?"

"Let me ask you this, Mr. Breen: Did Detective Hawkins inform you that Shawn had accused you of murdering his mother?"

"Yes, he did."

"But you didn't believe him?"

"No, I did not."

"And why was that?"

"Because, as I just said, I didn't think that Shawn would ever accuse me of such a thing."

"But, surely, once you were indicted, you must have realized that Detective Hawkins had not been lying to you."

"Shawn wasn't communicating with me, so I had no way of knowing what the truth was. I had my suspicions about him, of course, but it wasn't until he testified at my first trial that I was forced to accept the truth of what he had done to me."

"And you maintain that his statement to Detective Hawkins was a lie?"

Jeremy laughed as if he had just heard a joke. "It's a complete fabrication."

"You think this is a laughing matter, Mr. Breen?"

"Actually, I do."

"This is your reaction to the murder of your mother?"

Unexpectedly, Jeremy completely dropped his veneer of cool composure. Speaking in an angry tone, he said, "No, Merrill, I do not--it's you who have turned this into a laughing matter."

"Mr. Breen--"

"And let me tell you, Mr. Prosecutor, when the truth comes out, everyone in this town is going to be laughing at you."

Somewhat taken aback, Justin looked closely at Jeremy and said, "So you know the truth of what happened that night?"

"To my mother--no. But I do know that I had nothing whatsoever to do with her murder."

"But you just said 'when the truth comes out.' What truth is that, Mr. Breen?"

"Asked and answered," said Jeremy, who had learned that expression from Jessica.

"So you just waited and waited and waited to tell us this strange story about a man who wanted to disappear because he was afraid of being charged with a nonexistent crime?"

"Objection," said Jessica. "The prosecution has offered no proof that Shawn Evans did not molest a young boy."

"Your Honor," said Justin, "it's a matter of public record--no one has ever accused Shawn Evans of a sexual crime."

"That doesn't mean that what my client said was false--or non-existent, as the prosecutor would say. It's well-known that many sexual crimes are never reported to the authorities."

"I will sustain the objection," said Judge Kearns.

"Mr. Breen," said Justin, "you must have realized that Shawn Evans had sold you out when he gave his testimony during the first trial. Correct?"

"He did not sell me out--he lied, and there's a big difference between those two things."

"Mr. Breen, stop quibbling with words. During the first trial, you must have realized that Shawn Evans was no longer your friend. Correct?"

"Yes, obviously."

"And that, I suppose, accounts for your pathetic display of temper, which caused that trial--"

"Objection." Jessica knew the judge was not likely to allow any reference to the fact that there had been a mistrial.

"Sustained."

"Mr. Breen," said Justin, "you've just stated that during Mr. Evans's testimony at the first trial, you came to understand that he had implicated you in the murder of your mother."

"Yes, that's correct."

"So you couldn't possibly have felt that Mr. Evans was your friend after the first trial, could you?"

"Of course not, Mr. Merrill--by that time, it was quite plain to me that Shawn Evans was my enemy."

"Mr. Breen, there have been two months between the conclusion of the first trial and the beginning of this one. During that time, you had an opportunity to inform us of this reprehensible sexual conduct by Mr. Evans. Did you avail yourself of this opportunity?"

"No, Mr. Merrill, I did not."

"Why not, Mr. Breen?"

"What would have been the use? After--"

"The use! We're talking about the murder of your mother. I would think that you, of all people, would want us to find the person who committed this crime."

"More so than you, Mr. Merrill."

"You certainly don't show any evidence to support that assertion, Mr. Breen. Here you are in possession of information that, if true, would certainly have helped us in our investigation."

"How so?" said Jeremy, with casual sarcasm.

"Mr. Breen, you've produced these allegations against Mr. Evans as a kind of alibi, haven't you?"

"I already had an alibi, so--"

"No, Mr. Breen, we've already proven that to be false, and--"

"That's a lie," said Jeremy emphatically.

"Your Honor," said Justin, "would you please admonish the witness."

"Mr. Breen, do not interrupt the prosecutor until he has finished with his question."

"Certainly," said Jeremy, "but by the same token, I would appreciate it if he wouldn't interrupt me."

"Mr. Breen," said the judge with unusual severity, "do not lecture me on my duties. You are to sit there and answer the questions that are put to you—understood?"

"Why am I not allowed to finish my answer to his question? Why--"

"Mr. Breen—"

"And why do you interrupt me?"

Judge Kearns banged his gavel and glared at Jeremy. "Mr. Breen, this is a court of law, and if you expect to give any further testimony, you will refrain from interrupting anyone. Is that clear?"

"May I have a word with my lawyer?" Jeremy tossed this in because he knew it would annoy the judge.

"No, you may not because--"

"Your Honor," said Jessica, "my client--"

"No, Ms. Woods, he does not need your help to answer my question and answer it he will."

"Yes, I understand perfectly," said Jeremy. "I will sit here and answer every question truthfully."

"No," said the judge in a wrathful tone, "that's taken for granted, Mr. Breen. However, since you seem to be wanting in manners, I need to inform you that you are expected to be respectful and not interrupt the prosecutor while he is asking you questions. Is that understood?"

Jeremy only answered this question after a noticeable hesitation. "I accept that condition, Your Honor, but I still don't understand why it's permissible for the prosecutor to interrupt me when I am attempting to answer his questions."

"That's none of your business, Mr. Breen. Now, if you expect to continue with your testimony, you will not interrupt anyone, and if you do, not only will your testimony come to a halt, but you will also be removed from the courtroom for the remainder of the trial. Perhaps, before we go on, you had better consult with your attorney."

"No," said Jeremy, "that won't be necessary. I merely...never mind--it doesn't matter."

"Alright, Mr. Merrill," said the judge, who was clearly infuriated with Jeremy, "you may continue with your cross-examination."

"Mr. Breen," said Justin, "this is a question that goes to the heart of the case. If you no longer felt bound to Shawn Evans by your former friendship, why did you not tell us what you knew about him?"

"Because, to be frank, Mr. Merrill, I considered your allegation against me to be so preposterous that it must be based on malice."

"What? What are saying, Mr. Breen?"

"It's quite clear what I meant, Mr. Merrill."

"Not to me--so why don't you explain yourself both for my benefit and that of the jury."

"Shawn's statement was motivated by malice, and I don't see how anyone could believe what he said unless they were also motivated by malice--and when I say anyone, I'm including you as a major part of that anyone."

For the first time, it really hit Jessica. Jeremy liked to present himself as Mr. Cool, but underneath the casual demeanor was a ferocious temper. Not a good thing to display when you were on trial for murder!

This time, Justin laughed. "No, Mr. Breen, I am interested in justice, not malice, and my sole motive in charging you with murder is to convict the person who committed the crime."

"No," said Jeremy, whose eyes were blazing with animosity, "that is a totally false and malicious statement. You have not the least bit of interest in discovering what really happened to my mother."

"And so," said Justin, who was now convinced that Jeremy was hanging himself, "you withheld this information from me because you were convinced that I would not give it any credence?"

"Exactly, because the only person you've ever given any credence to is Shawn Evans. I might also add that my lawyer advised me not to talk to you."

This, Jessica knew, was definitely a lie.

"The advice of your counsel," said Justin as he turned and stared at Jessica, who gazed back at him impassively.

"Yes," said Jeremy, "she thought it would be unwise. She told me that it was unlikely you would really investigate any information I gave you, and it didn't take me long to see the truth of that. She also thought it would only forewarn you and give you time to devise a strategy to counteract this information. And based on what I've seen of your performance here, with your constant attempts to subvert the truth and obstruct justice--"

"That's enough, Mr. Breen," said the judge.

"My apologies for speaking the truth," said Jeremy, who produced a mock bow in the direction of the jury.

Justin looked at him in amazement. He never would have thought that someone who looked and acted like Jeremy Breen could be so insolent. He was, thought Justin, nothing but an insufferable, arrogant jerk--exactly the kind of person that juries had a strong aversion to.

"No further questions, Mr. Breen," he said dismissively.

## CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: "THIS COULD BE A WOODY ALLEN MOVIE."

Jessica had been outraged by Jeremy's performance on the stand, and late that afternoon, when they met in her office, she said, "I spent the better part of three days preparing the questions I was going to ask you, and then you just laughed in my face and invented that crazy story about Shawn." Jessica was particularly annoyed because Jeremy was now the second person in the Breen family to go careening off the rails while she had been questioning them--Dana had shot himself in the foot at his trial by admitting that he had contemplated murdering his wife, while Jeremy, even though he had been much more aggressive and confrontational than his father, had done himself no favors with his unlikely tale of meeting Shawn at Norton's.

"It wasn't a crazy story, Jessica--it was the truth."

"Then why didn't you tell me about it beforehand?"

To her astonishment, Jeremy lost his temper. "Who are you?" he said, in a suddenly hostile way. "I pay you, or my grandmother pays you, all this money, and the only thing I get from you is criticism and constant insinuations that I'm destroying my own case. You're just like Justin Merrill--both of you assume that you know all the answers, but neither of you have any idea what you're talking about."

He had expected her to back down, but she surprised him by saying, "Yes, you're absolutely right, Jeremy--I admit that I have no idea what I'm talking about, but the reason for that is because you refuse to tell me the truth."

Two days later, on a Sunday morning, Jessica phoned Jeremy and asked him to meet her for lunch at an Italian restaurant. He arrived first and was waiting outside when he saw her walking down the street. Once she reached him, he said, "This is a pleasant surprise--I assumed that outside of the courtroom or your office, you would never speak to me again."

As they walked inside, she gazed at him coolly and said, "There's some things that I need to discuss with you."

After they were shown to a table, Jeremy attempted to apologize for what he had said in her office, but she brushed him off. "What's done is done, Jeremy."

Alarmed by her unfriendly attitude, he said, "Are you dumping me?"

"No, I can't really do that. Not now--not just before closing arguments."

"But you'd like to?"

"I probably should. Why are you doing this to me, Jeremy?"

"Doing what?"

"You know something about what happened that night, and you're keeping it to yourself. It's so obvious. You're like a poker player who's holding a couple of aces--at least you think they're aces, but if that jury comes back with a guilty verdict, you won't be calling them aces."

He looked at her for some moments before he said, "Jessica, you're asking me to tell you something that goes beyond the relationship that we have."

What was that supposed to mean? For starters, it was a direct admission that he was holding something back from her. "And our relationship is?" she asked him.

"We have an official relationship, Jessica. What do they call you in legal terms? An officer of the court?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"And I'm accused of murder. So there are just some things that I feel I can't talk to you about because no matter what happens, as long as you're my lawyer, you're an officer of the court."

"Would you tell these things to me if I weren't your lawyer?"

"Probably not," he said with a pleasant laugh. "But it's possible."

"What did you do, Jeremy?"

He stared at her but said nothing.

Later, after they had eaten and were sipping on coffee, she said, "Jeremy, I want to make one more attempt at this. I'm sure that you would never do anything to harm me, and I swear to you that I will never do anything to harm you. Do you believe me?"

"I believe that you believe what you're saying."

"What does that mean?" she said, with an angry tone to her voice.

"Circumstances could force you to alter that promise."

She stared at him with a look of disbelief. "Jeremy--tell me the truth. Do you know who murdered your mother?"

Surprisingly, Jeremy laughed. "No...I'm sorry, Jessica--it's just the tension and absurdity of it all."

"I can't understand why you won't trust me, Jeremy. Is there anyone on this earth that you trust?"

"Actually, no...except...that's not quite true."

"There is someone you trust?"

"I guess so," said Jeremy.

"And who would that be, if you don't mind me asking."

"I'd rather not say."

"Your girlfriend?" said Jessica, with surprise. Because of the way Jeremy acted around her, Jessica had always assumed that he was unattached.

"No, nowadays, I don't have a girlfriend because women tend to shy away from you when you're accused of murdering your mother with a knife."

"So have you told this mysterious someone about the things that you're holding back from me?"

Jeremy started to laugh, saw the harsh look on her face, and said, "This could be a Woody Allen movie."

"In what way?" said Jessica, who had seen almost every one of Allen's movies.

"I find myself, through no fault of my own, playing the lead role in a serious comedy that is intended to prove the absolute absurdity of existence."

"But you don't have to make it more absurd than it already is, Jeremy. I know it's not fashionable to repeat oneself, but I'm going to ask you again--why are you concealing the truth from me?"

"Jessica, I don't know how to say this, but...it's like you're asking me a very personal question."

"And so, because of that, you can't tell me the truth?"

"Something like that," he said evasively.

"Jeremy, weren't you the one who told me that nothing is important? So if that's true, why do you have to keep these secrets from me? Is the world going to spin off its axis if you tell me what really happened that night?"

Outside of the questions he perpetually asked himself, Jeremy felt that this question was the first intelligent one he had heard in his life. Reluctantly, he realized that if he continued down the path he had staked out for himself, he would be a traitor to his own philosophy. Or perhaps not, because the "truth" was, regardless of its pristine reputation, just one more unimportant thing in a world of unimportant things. And also, if one considered all the harm this "truth" would create, it would undoubtedly be best for him to divert Jessica and slink away as unobtrusively as he could from this uncomfortable inquisition because, instinctively, Jeremy felt that any "truth" that brought harm to another couldn't really be the _truth_. "Listen to me, Jessica--I know your questions are well-intentioned, but I must use the dreaded word that lawyers are so much in love with: Objection!"

"On what grounds?" she said, with a smile.

"I need to have a reason?"

"Unless the judge can decipher the grounds to grant the objection. And I can't imagine any grounds for your objection."

"I'm not a lawyer, Jessica, so I'm not familiar with the rules for objections, but having been exposed to the legal system, I'll bet there are six thousand reasons why a lawyer could object."

"It's not quite that bad, Jeremy. Just tell me why you object to my question."

"Which was?" he said as he stared into the pleasures lurking beneath her hazel eyes.

"Why can't I ask you to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

Jeremy was relieved that she had forgotten about the earth spinning off its axis. "My dear Jessica," he said humorously, "that question is a good example of why I find it so difficult to tell you the truth."

"So why can't you tell me, Jeremy?"

"Don't you dare get angry at me for what I'm about to say. OK? I've begged you not to ask me about this, but you're being very persistent. The only way I can imagine being able to tell you absolutely everything is if our relationship met two conditions: First, regardless of anything else, you could not be my lawyer because lawyers are officers of the court, and second, we would have to be romantically involved."

Jeremy had thought Jessica would be outraged by his second condition, but she seemed unperturbed by the potential insinuation and responded with a lawyer-like question. "But Jeremy, since you've already admitted that you don't have a girlfriend, how is it that there is someone you trust?"

"This is so unbelievably complicated," he said, with a suppressed laugh. "What a strange predicament to be in. Let's see...When I brought up those two conditions, I was talking to you; you were the one that asked me the question, and since lawyers love guidelines, I'm telling you what the conditions are. And I'm really revealing more than I want to when I say that I could tell you some things that might surprise you. But to do that, you couldn't be my lawyer, and we would also have to be in a very close relationship. I'm not just talking about going to bed for a week or two--I'm talking about getting to the point where you would literally trust a person with your life."

"And you can only do that if we were, to use your expression, romantically involved?"

He looked at her with amusement. "I'm not sure I could even then. Because, Jessica, there are, very occasionally, things that people should just bury, things that, for the sake of everyone, shouldn't be revealed."

## CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: "BETTER YET, HE FOOLED THEM TWICE."

Jessica was a highly competitive woman who had no interest in being on the losing side of a case, and so she had spent many hours on her closing argument, which was a well-reasoned attempt to shift the blame for the murder from Jeremy to Shawn. She began by covering two obvious points--there had never been any proof presented that Karen Breen was threatening to stop payments on Jeremy's car, and the timeline of the prosecutor, which had Jeremy flying through space as if he were piloting a rocket ship. She then took on Shawn Evans.

"I'm sure the members of the jury must realize that the prosecutor's case hinges entirely on the testimony of Mr. Evans. However, before I can even begin to discuss this man's statement to the police, I must mention the fact that his testimony in this trial was clearly motivated by a desire to escape the consequences of his most recent crime. Less than a month ago, Mr. Evans admitted his guilt to both aggravated assault and armed robbery, and for those of you who are not aware of it, during the commission of these crimes, he threatened a store clerk with a knife. What? Did I hear that right?" said Jessica, theatrically. "That's correct, ladies and gentleman of the jury--he used a knife, and I, for one, wonder if it was the exact same knife that was used to murder Karen Breen.

"This inevitably brings me to the dirty little secret that the prosecutor has done his best to obscure." Jessica saw that Justin, who probably assumed that she was referring to Jeremy's sexual allegations, was about to interrupt her with some sort of objection. "That would, of course" she said, "be the plea deal that Mr. Merrill doesn't want to talk about, except in a completely absurd way. To give you an example, in a recent interview with the Lancaster Times, he claimed that Mr. Evans had been motivated to speak out against Jeremy by his sincere desire to tell the truth, even if it was detrimental to himself. Give me a break!" said Jessica with sudden vehemence. "Mr. Evans is a person who hasn't done a single constructive thing in his life, and now, after the prosecutor dresses him up and gives him a haircut, he's rehabilitated! If only it were so easy. But the fact remains that Mr. Evans is, as usual, only thinking about himself, and we can only guess how many years were lopped off his sentence because he had the street smarts to throw Mr. Merrill the bone that he was looking for. And really, when you look at it objectively, this bone doesn't have much meat on it.

"Because, unlike Jeremy, Shawn Evans has no alibi at all, and even though he admits to being in the Breen house as the murder was being committed, he manages to escape blame by inventing this self-serving tale in which Jeremy becomes the murderer. To counter this, I am going to give you an entirely different version of events, and I hope that during your deliberations, you will consider it carefully because it makes far more sense than anything Shawn Evans has said.

"To begin with, the evidence clearly points to the fact that Mr. Evans returned to the Breen house on the night of the murder and that his motive for returning was to vandalize the room of his former girlfriend, Selena Breen. Let me remind you that in his statement to the police, Mr. Evans admitted to this and used the word payback to justify his actions. Now, since Selena's room was only a few feet from Karen Breen's bedroom, I think she heard him and walked down the corridor to investigate the noise that was coming from her daughter's bedroom. And then, when she stepped into Selena's room, she would not only have seen Mr. Evans but also the knife that he had in his hand. No, I can't prove to you for an absolute fact that Shawn Evans had a knife in his hand, but it's certainly a reasonable assumption because not only is that his weapon of choice, but also, according to the evidentiary reports, certain items in the room appeared to have been slashed with a knife.

"Karen Breen was terrified and attempted to flee from Mr. Evans, but by this time, he was understandably desperate. It wasn't just the breaking and entering charge that he would be facing--it's the fact of what would happen to him after he was detained by the police, of what would happen to him if the boy he molested were to identify him. One can argue that it seems unlikely Mr. Evan's arrest at the Breen house would lead police to connect him with a sexual crime, but although you and I might think that way, it was not what Shawn Evans would have been thinking. In fact, just two hours earlier, he had told Jeremy that he was afraid that this would happen to him.

"And so, to cover up his crimes, Shawn chased Karen Breen down the stairs to the back door, ripped off the top of her nightgown as she tried to escape from him, and stabbed her to death in the woods behind the house. The only problem with this explanation of the crime, which fits the evidence perfectly, is this: Since Mr. Evans did not own a car, how was he able to move Karen Breen's body from the vicinity of the house? The answer to this question is relatively simple. In the bedroom of Karen Breen, her handbag was found with its contents scattered on the floor. I submit to you that the reason for this was not because of any struggle in the room, but rather, it was an attempt, a successful attempt, by Mr. Evans to find Karen Breen's car keys so that he could use her car to dispose of her body. And for those who would argue that it is unlikely Karen Breen's car would have been used to remove her body from the murder site, I want to remind the jurors that if we are to believe the statement Mr. Evans made to the police, then this is exactly what happened. Therefore, the only question up for discussion is whether Shawn or Jeremy was driving the car that night.

"I do hope the prosecutor will not be so obtuse as to say that Mr. Evans wouldn't have had enough time to do all this because in the scenario Mr. Merrill has produced--the one where Jeremy is the murderer--there is far less time to accomplish this exact same thing. Remember, best case--the one where Jeremy is hurtling down the road at one hundred and ten or twenty miles per hour--he could not have arrived until midnight. Since he called 911 at precisely 12:30, that leaves him just thirty minutes to commit the murder and get rid of the body. However, if Jeremy told us the truth when he said he arrived home a minute or two before 12:30, Shawn Evans could have entered the house anytime after 11:30. I realize Mr. Merrill is claiming that Dana Breen didn't leave for work until 11:40, but since he has tweaked the facts to suit his own ends, I should have the right to do the same. According to all accounts, Jeremy left the bar at 11:35, but the prosecutor gave you this long song and dance about the difference between bar time and regular time and lopped ten minutes off the clock because without those ten minutes, his case becomes completely hopeless. But I'll be charitable to Mr. Merrill and say that Mr. Evans didn't enter the house until 11:40, which means that if Jeremy was telling the truth when he said he returned shortly after 12:25, Shawn would have had at least forty-five minutes to ransack Selena's room, murder Karen Breen, bury her body, and return the victim's car to the house.

"The prosecutor will undoubtedly attempt to refute my argument by claiming that there was no reason for Mr. Evans to bury the body and that there was also no reason for him to plant the blood evidence in Dana Breen's car. The answer to these objections becomes obvious if we consider what would have been going through Shawn Evans's mind immediately after he had murdered Karen Breen. Place yourself in his shoes, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Where had Mr. Evans been earlier that night? Who had he been talking to? What did he tell this person?"

For effect, Jessica waited almost fifteen seconds before she said, "Hadn't he been at Norton's talking to Jeremy Breen? And hadn't he told Jeremy that before he left town, he was determined to get everything back that he had ever given to Selena Breen?

"And so, as Mr. Evans stood over the lifeless body of Karen Breen, he would have remembered what he had said to Jeremy because those words effectively placed him at the Breen house at the exact time of the murder. In other words, Jeremy would have immediately realized who had murdered his mother. Of course, when Shawn had talked with Jeremy at Norton's, he hadn't foreseen what would happen after he entered the Breen house, but now that the deed was done, Mr. Evans could have had no doubt as to who the prime suspect would be--not, initially, in the eyes of the police, but in the eyes of Jeremy, who would certainly be pointing the police in his direction. Thus, in order to save himself, Mr. Evans had to throw Jeremy off the scent. This meant that Shawn had to create another suspect, and who could possibly be a better suspect than Jeremy's father?

"To accomplish this, Mr. Evans devised the plan of placing the victim's blood in the trunk of Dana Breen's car. And for those who say Shawn Evans couldn't or wouldn't have planted the blood in the trunk of Dana Breen's car, I have a very obvious retort. _Shawn Evans has already admitted to doing this._ In fact, Mr. Evans is directly connected to all the evidence in this murder--the beer bottles, the blood evidence, Selena's room--you name it, and Shawn was the one responsible.

"Finally, when Mr. Evans decided to frame Jeremy's father by placing the blood in the trunk of his car, it became necessary to remove Karen Breen's body from the murder site. Obviously, she couldn't be left where she had been slain but had to be moved somewhere because only then would the blood in the trunk of Dana Breen's car make any sense. And so, by successfully concealing the corpse in a dumpster, not only did Shawn Evans throw Jeremy off the scent, but he also completely fooled the detectives who attempted to investigate this case. Better yet, he fooled them twice--the first time was in 2004 when Jeremy's father was arrested and convicted, and the second time was in 2007 when he convinced Mr. Merrill that Jeremy had committed the murder."

Jessica finished her closing argument with an exhortation on reasonable doubt, which concluded with the following: "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury--if this case does not rise to the level of reasonable doubt, I am not sure that any case does. Yes, I suppose it is possible to devise a scenario where Jeremy committed the murder, but it was possible--and still is possible--to make out a case against Jeremy's father. I was present at the trial of Dana Breen, and the evidence presented against him was much more convincing than what has been manufactured against Jeremy, manufactured not by the prosecutor but by a convicted criminal.

"However, when you view the evidence dispassionately, as you must, Shawn Evans becomes the likely murderer. He had motive--he was desperate to avoid arrest; he had means--we know for a fact that he uses knives to threaten people; and he had opportunity--granted, he hadn't planned to murder Karen Breen, but when the opportunity arose, he took advantage of it. Can you really believe anything that this man told you? Surely, it must create doubt in your mind, and if I were on the jury, I would say that his story created a lot more than doubt in my mind. I would say that I felt nothing but total disbelief, and I think it is shocking and repugnant for the prosecutor to accuse Jeremy of this crime when, in all probability, it was committed by his accuser, Shawn Evans."

## CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN:

## "WHO WAS THE MASTERMIND BEHIND ALL THIS?"

During his closing argument, Justin Merrill spoke in an easy-going, friendly voice. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury: The defense attorney has certainly done her best to cast doubt on the state's leading witness, Shawn Evans. Perhaps, after you listened to her impassioned argument, you are beginning to wonder whether Mr. Evans could have committed this crime.

"First of all, Ms. Woods has made much of the fact that in return for his testimony, Shawn was offered a plea deal on his armed robbery charge. A month ago, he was convicted of this charge and sentenced to two and a half years in prison, instead of the five years he would have received had there been no plea deal. However, it is important to note that the testimony he gave in this trial was not protected by any offer of immunity, and my office will be filing further charges against Mr. Evans as an accessory, after the fact, to murder. Because of this, I would expect that rather than having reduced the amount of time he will spend in prison, Shawn's admissions to us will mean that he will serve at least the five years, if not more." (Because Shawn had been read his rights and had spoken voluntarily to Lyle Hawkins about the Breen case, he had lost any leverage that an ordinary informant would have had. Further, if he had refused to testify against Jeremy at the trial, not only could the tape recording of his confession have been played by the prosecutor, but he would also not have been offered any plea deal on his armed robbery charge.)

"Next, I need to discuss Mr. Breen's despicable attempt to smear Shawn. Never, not once, has Shawn been accused of any sexual impropriety with anyone--whether it be man, woman, or child. Never! Absolutely no evidence was produced by the defense to support the claim that he had sexually abused anyone, and I think any fair-minded person would have to conclude that Jeremy Breen, in a pathetic attempt to save himself, has committed perjury. Of course, when a man is so depraved that he would murder his own mother for a few thousand dollars, then I don't suppose we should be surprised that he attempted to destroy the person who had been his best friend for many years.

"There are many ways of proving that virtually everything Jeremy Breen said in this courtroom was nothing but lies. Let's begin by examining an obvious flaw in his account of what happened on the night of the murder. If we are to believe Mr. Breen's testimony, Shawn had asked him for two thousand dollars, supposedly for a drug deal, about a week earlier; however, Jeremy claimed that he did not give the money to Shawn until the night of the murder. For lack of a better word, this sounds mighty fishy to me--too much like trying to fit the bank records into a less incriminating story, a story where Shawn is turned into the villain. At any rate, in Mr. Breen's version of events, Shawn arrived at Norton's and told him that he had molested a young boy, was afraid that he'd be caught, and needed the two thousand dollars so he could leave the Lancaster area. Let's assume, for a moment, that this is actually what happened. Mr. Breen agrees to give him the money--and doesn't it seem strange that he would part with two thousand dollars so a child molester could leave town?--but then, after Shawn has the money in his hands, what does he do? Does he flee the city? No! Strangely, he goes back to Mr. Breen's parent's house so that he can ransack Selena Breen's room.

"Now, no one is denying that Shawn did this--he has admitted to it, and the two beer bottles in the kitchen confirm, beyond all doubt, that he was there that night. This fits in perfectly with Shawn's story but hardly coincides with the defendant's. Because if Shawn were so eager to leave town, why would he take the chance of breaking and entering into a house? And not just any house--this is the house of the parents of the man who had just given him two thousand dollars.

"OK--let's make another assumption that's favorable to the defense: Shawn was so bitter about being rejected by Selena Breen that he just couldn't resist the temptation to exact revenge. But then, while he's in Selena's room, he's discovered by her mother and so on and so forth--I don't have to repeat every detail of the defense attorney's ridiculous fantasy. So now, according to Ms. Woods, Shawn has a lot more than a sexual molestation charge to deal with--he's also guilty of murder. However, if this is what actually happened, then why in the world didn't Shawn carry through with his plan to leave town? Sexual molestation is bad enough--but murder? Why, with a murder under his belt and two thousand dollars in his pocket, would he have remained in town? Why would the murder, the murder he supposedly committed, induce him to stay? You can dream up a reason, but any rational person can see that Ms. Wood's account of what happened that night makes no sense whatsoever.

"Next, we come to another absurdity that was interwoven into her argument. This concerns the makeshift burial of Karen Breen. Somehow, since the body wasn't at the scene, it had to be disposed of. Right? So Jeremy Breen's story had to be twisted to accommodate this awkward fact, and you all heard the preposterous invention of the defense attorney as she imagined Shawn searching for and finding the car keys of Karen Breen before he used her car to transport the body to the dumpster. Possible, you say? But for those who would argue this premise, I have a question: Why would Shawn do this? Stop! If you are at all inclined to believe Jeremy Breen, you must find an answer to this question, but you won't be able to because there is none.

"To begin with, there is absolutely no reason for Shawn to move the body anywhere. What for? What does it benefit him? Ms. Woods was able to come up with her own explanation, but it was all based on the testimony of Jeremy Breen. I don't enjoy using a word repeatedly, but I need to emphasize that before every claim Jeremy Breen made, we have to affix the word supposedly. Remember, the defendant is the only person who claims that Shawn was at Norton's on the night of the murder. No one else saw him there, and you have every right to doubt that this conversation ever occurred. Furthermore, common sense will tell you that if Shawn Evans were the murderer, he would never have moved the victim's body because it's nothing but a needless excursion fraught with peril as he drives Karen Breen's car from the Breen house to the murder site, loads her body into the car, throws her into the dumpster at Jameson's, and then returns the car to the house. It wouldn't even occur to him to do this! All he would be thinking about would be how to flee from the scene as fast as he could. Furthermore, does anyone in his right mind think that while Shawn is standing over the body, he is going to come up with the incredible idea to gather up some blood so that he can frame the defendant's father?

"There is also the problem, never mentioned by the defense attorney, of how Shawn would have been able to open the trunk of Dana Breen's car. In his confession to Lyle Hawkins, Shawn stated that the key to the trunk of the car had been given to him by Jeremy Breen on the night of the murder. But if Jeremy had nothing to do with the murder, how would Shawn have been able to obtain the key? Even if Shawn had found the key in Karen Breen's handbag, there is no way that it could have been used to open the trunk of Dana Breen's car. Why? Because it would have been impossible for Shawn to return to the Breen house from Huron Electronics and replace the key in the victim's handbag before Jeremy's 911 phone call at 12:30.

"However, if we're interested in something more than some ludicrous fantasy created out of perjured testimony, we can see that if Jeremy Breen committed the murder, it made sense for him to get rid of his mother's body because it fit into his carefully calculated plan to have his father charged with the crime. It's true that Jeremy could also have left the body at the scene except for one very important fact: In the plan he had devised for framing his father, blood needed to be smeared inside the trunk of his father's car. Very clever! But obviously, this plan required that the body had to be removed from the scene.

"This is certainly logical and makes sense. But does it make any sense for Shawn to be the murderer? Remember, this was, according to the defense theory, a spontaneous murder by a man who was terrified of being arrested on a sexual molestation charge. As he is standing over the corpse of Karen Breen with a bloody knife in his hand is it suddenly going to occur to him to frame Jeremy's father? Are you serious? Why? What for? Because of some words he said a few hours earlier to Jeremy Breen? What difference would they make? He could just deny that he ever said them--his word against the defendant's. Do you really mean to tell me that Shawn is actually going to run back into the house and cut up the bloody plastic that was found in Dana Breen's car, rummage around for rags to wipe up the blood, and then find Karen Breen's car keys? How would he even know where they were? And finally, after he has disposed of the body and returned the car to the house, he still has to make the journey to Huron Electronics and locate the car of Jeremy Breen's father.

"Yes, we know Shawn did plant the blood in Dana Breen's car because he has told us that he did so. But who was the mastermind behind all this? Who would have wanted to frame Dana Breen? Who would have been the one to construct the plan--because this crime was very carefully planned out. And it's obvious that Shawn could never--would never--have been able to do this. And that leaves you with no choice but to convict Jeremy Breen for the murder of his mother."

"Finally, I need to mention the testimony of Andrea Patterson and her implied claim that Shawn's statement to the police was false since it was supposedly motivated by malice towards Jeremy Breen. Bear in mind that she never once mentioned anything specific, anything that even remotely related to the murder of Karen Breen--what she said in this courtroom amounted to nothing more than a vague assertion that Shawn had hostile feelings towards Jeremy. I'll leave it to you to decide what weight to place on her testimony, but I didn't think it was at all credible, and I'll tell you why. At the time of her deposition to Ms. Woods, Andrea had just ended her relationship with Shawn, and it is my belief that her deposition was motivated solely by her own hostility--the hostility that she felt towards Shawn. That's why, with the better part of a year to reflect upon it, she began to backpedal on the stand and stated that Shawn had not said anything especially derogatory about the defendant. And the reason her story began to change was that her lawyer must have warned her about the charges that can be brought for perjury. It's true that Ms. Patterson took an oath to tell the truth before she gave her deposition, but perjury in that venue is rarely, if ever, prosecuted. But telling lies in open court is quite a different matter, and what you saw from Ms. Patterson was the classic example of a witness who wanted to completely retract her previous statement without having to admit that she had lied."

(As Jessica listened to Justin conclude his argument with a pedantic dissertation on the difference between reasonable doubt and any doubt, she began to suspect that her final argument had been fatally flawed because, without being aware of it at the time, she had become distracted by Jeremy's testimony and had placed too much emphasis on Shawn as being the one who had murdered Karen Breen. Looking at it dispassionately, Jessica could sense that if the jury were to view the murder as being committed by either Jeremy or Shawn, they would be much more likely to pick Jeremy...the bank deposits, Audrey's testimony, the improbability that Shawn would have removed the body from the murder site, Shawn's inability to open the trunk of Dana's car without Jeremy giving him a key. Justin's defense of Shawn made sense to her, and anyways, Jessica had never really believed that Shawn had committed the crime--to her, the most likely suspect was still Jeremy's father. The beer bottles were an anomaly that no one had ever been able to explain, but _everything_ else pointed to Dana Breen.

This meant that it would have been better if her final argument had focused almost entirely on the lack of proofs in the prosecution case: 1/ no evidence to support the claim that Karen Breen was about to stop making the payments on Jeremy's car; 2/ absolutely no physical or DNA evidence that pointed to Jeremy; 3/ the near impossibility of Jeremy leaving Norton's at 11:25 P.M. and doing everything that the prosecution claimed he had done--the total impossibility if he had left the bar at 11:35.

Unfortunately, thought Jessica, she had become emotionally involved with Jeremy and had done exactly what he had done--turning the trial into a contest between Jeremy and Shawn, instead of a contest between Jeremy and Justin.)

## CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT:

## IN THE ANNALS OF COURTROOM HISTORY, THIS WAS A FIRST

The judge finished his instructions to the jury just before noon on Thursday, June 12th. As Jessica left the courtroom, she could see that Jeremy was worried and invited him back to her office. Once there, he said, "So what do you think? Are they going to acquit me or send me up the river?"

Despite Jeremy's persistent refusal to tell her what had happened on the night of the murder, Jessica couldn't help but feel sympathy for him because she sensed, or feared, that the jury was going to come back with a guilty verdict. If only he had trusted her! "I really don't know, Jeremy. Juries are notoriously unpredictable."

"But what if you were on the jury?"

"I know you couldn't have murdered her, Jeremy--you're just not that type of guy."

"You're right about that. But what about reasonable doubt? Don't you think any reasonable person would find something to doubt?"

"It depends on the mood of the jury--sometimes, the concept of reasonable doubt is just thrown away as a useless platitude. And then, at other times, it becomes a crutch that jurors lean on to justify some very irrational acquittals."

"I'll settle for an irrational acquittal," said Jeremy, who had turned gloomy again. "A guilty verdict will wreck my life, Jessica. By the way--if the jury finds me guilty isn't there such a thing as polling the jury?"

"Yes, of course."

"And that would mean I'm not officially guilty until the last of the twelve jurors say that I am?"

"Yes--why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said.

The jury came back the following Tuesday at 2:30 P.M. As Jessica and Jeremy waited for the judge to appear, she noticed that he had taken his cell phone out of his pocket and was absentmindedly flipping it around in his hand. "Thinking of calling someone?" asked Jessica.

Jeremy laughed and said, "My posse awaits my command." Just then, the judge arrived and said, "I understand that the jury has reached a verdict."

The jury filed in with somber expressions on their faces, and the foreman, upon instructions from the judge, handed a piece of paper to the court clerk. "All rise," said the judge. Jessica noticed that Jeremy was staring at his cell phone as the court clerk read, "We the jury find the defendant, Jeremy Breen, guilty of first degree murder."

The courtroom was filled with exclamations as well as a loud "No!" from Selena. "This is an outrage!" she shouted.

"Be quiet, young lady," said the judge, "or I will have you removed from the courtroom."

"This is so stupid," said Selena in a subdued voice. Dana put his arm around her, and she buried her head into his shoulder as she burst into tears.

From the corner of her eye, Jessica could see that Jeremy had dialed a number and then quickly pushed the disconnect button. Following that, he had hit the redial button and waited about fifteen seconds before again pushing the disconnect button. Jessica couldn't help but wonder if Jeremy's comment about a posse was something more than a joke. Before she could ask that the jury be polled, Jeremy put his hand on her arm and said, "Your Honor, I have a legal question that I need to ask you."

Silence descended on the courtroom as this strange question fell on the ears of the assembled. "Yes?" said the judge warily.

"Am I right in understanding that the verdict is not official until the jury has been polled?'

"Yes, that is correct. Do you wish to have the jury polled?"

Ignoring the judge's question, Jeremy said, "So if one or more members of the jury do not affirm the guilty vote would that mean I am innocent?"

After a slight hesitation, the judge said, "No, in that event, which is extremely unlikely, the jury would need to continue their deliberations."

"Alright, could I consult with my attorney for a moment?"

"Mr. Breen--"

"Just for a moment, Your Honor."

"Make it quick, Mr. Breen."

Jeremy tugged on the sleeve of Jessica's blouse, and they sat down together. Cupping his hand over his mouth, he whispered to her, "I'm just stalling for time, but I guarantee you that within a minute or two, all of your questions are going to be answered. Please, whatever you do, don't get angry at me. When--"

"Mr. Breen?" said the annoyed voice of the judge.

Jessica stood and said, "Please poll the jury."

The clerk began the last-ditch ritual of defense lawyers. "Juror number one--is this your true verdict?"

"Yes."

"Juror number two?"

"Yes, it is."

"Juror--"

Suddenly, from the back of the courtroom, there was a loud noise followed by the sound of pushing and shoving. A woman had forced herself past a bailiff who was guarding the door, but she was still being restrained by two bailiffs who had been standing in the courtroom near the door. "Let me go!" said the intruder. "I have an obligation to be here." At that moment, when he heard the woman's voice, Dana _knew_.

A few other people were also beginning to realize who the woman was. "Your Honor," said the woman, "you'll have to toss the verdict out because there was never any murder. My name is Karen Breen, and I am here to tell you all, most emphatically, that I am alive and my son did not murder me."

Amidst the uproar, Jessica stared at Jeremy, who seemed to be amused. "I guess you'll never speak to me again," he said. "That's OK, I understand."

Jessica wasn't speaking, but for the moment, it was more out of shock than anger. How could Karen Breen still be alive? Hadn't six or seven pints of her blood been found in the woods? Was it her twin or something? "Jeremy--"

"When we get out of here, I'll tell you everything."

The judge was banging his gavel and demanding order. "We will continue with the polling of the jury," he said in a loud voice. As if that mattered anymore, thought Jeremy. Just then, the voice of Selena broke through the chaos. "What more could you idiots possibly want?"

As Jeremy's sister was being forcibly escorted out of the courtroom, the polling of the jury resumed. Unfortunately for the prosecution, the poll did not go very well--of the remaining ten jurors, three recanted their guilty votes.

In the annals of courtroom history, the return of a murder victim during the polling of the jurors was a first, and Judge Kearns had absolutely no idea how to proceed. Although the mysterious woman did indeed look like Karen Breen, the judge was one of many who thought she was an impersonator. In a stern voice, he addressed the jurors who had strayed from the flock. "Your verdict can not be dependent on events that occurred after your deliberations ceased. If the woman who has barged into this courtroom is indeed Karen Breen, then the charges against her son will, of course, be dropped. But it is not for you to determine who this woman really is, and the poll of the jurors is simply a formality that exists...it exists as a way of making certain that you actually did vote guilty while you were in the jury room. Taking that into consideration, I would like to ask those who have retracted their guilty votes to reconsider their decision."

"Your Honor," said Jessica. "That is--"

"Sit down, Ms. Woods, and let me handle this."

Those in the front of the courtroom could hear Jeremy distinctly as he turned towards Justin Merrill and said, "I told you Evans was a predator."

"Juror number six," intoned the clerk, "what say you? Innocent or guilty?"

After some hesitation, a young woman said, "Guilty."

"Juror number nine?"

"Innocent."

"Ms. Johnson," said the judge, "at the end of your deliberations, did you, or did you not, vote guilty?"

"I did, but--"

"But what, Ms. Johnson?"

"I've changed my mind since then."

"And why is that?"

"Your Honor," said Jessica, "you can't do this. She has a right to change her mind--it doesn't matter what the reason is. That's settled law."

Indeed it was, but the judge's problem was that he had no idea of what to do if the jury was really going to backtrack on its verdict. Finally, without responding to Jessica, he said to the clerk, "Please continue the poll."

"Juror number twelve?"

"Innocent."

Just then, the hand of juror number one shot up.

"What is it?" said the judge, in an irritable voice.

"I'm afraid," said a middle-aged woman, "that I would also like to retract my guilty vote."

What were the legal rules on this one? With nothing to guide him, the judge took the safe way out. "There are a number of issues to consider here. First of all, if this woman is really Karen Breen, then the charges against her son will be vacated. But if it turns out she is an imposter, then I assume that the jury would reaffirm its original vote for guilt. Therefore, I am recessing this court until the identity of this woman can be determined. The jury is, therefore, not dismissed but will be called back to finish their deliberations in the event that this woman is not Karen Breen."

It would take two weeks for the DNA tests to absolutely confirm that the woman was indeed Karen Breen, but in the meantime, there was the old-fashioned method of fingerprints, and by late that afternoon, the prosecutor and judge were forced to admit that no murder had taken place because Karen Breen was very much alive. However, the officials in law enforcement were understandably enraged, and before this case passed into the history books, many charges would be filed against Karen Breen, Jeremy Breen, and Shawn Evans.

## CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: "IT DIDN'T SEEM WRONG TO ME."

Jessica and Jeremy stood at the defense table as she aimlessly shuffled through some papers in front of her. Finally, she looked up at him and said, "If you want me to have any respect for you, Jeremy, you'll have to tell me the truth. I'm tired of playing games with you."

"Jessica, I was not playing a game with you."

"No? Then what was it, Jeremy?"

"I can't talk to you about this here--maybe in your office."

"What's the point? Are you just going to give me another lecture on the deficiencies of our relationship?"

He sighed. "I understand how you feel, Jessica."

"I don't think you do--not in the least."

"If you let me, I'll tell you everything."

She looked at him with those penetrating, now hostile, hazel eyes.

"Really? You? You'll tell me everything?" She punctuated these unfriendly questions with a sarcastic laugh.

"Yes, I will," he said humbly.

"Why do I get the feeling that you'll renege on your promise?"

"Listen," said a suddenly angry Jeremy, "I'll tell you everything--take it or leave it."

She returned to her paper shuffling before she looked up at him. "Fine--meet me at my office at five, but don't you dare walk out of this courtroom with me. I need to hear what you have to say before I decide whether I want to have anything to do with you anymore."

When he arrived at her office, Jessica was on the phone, and she waved him to a wooden chair that was about ten feet from her desk. Jeremy laughed to himself because usually this chair was placed much closer to her desk, but now, it was sitting baldly in the middle of the room. Jeremy felt exactly as he had when he was on the witness stand.

Jessica put down the phone and stared at him coldly. She was still in her court clothes, and despite her anger towards him, Jeremy was struck by her physical attractiveness. He was interrupted from this engaging meditation by her voice. "So what's your story?" she said in a cold, almost rude voice.

Jeremy felt that an attempt to throw her onto the defensive might be the best approach. "Jessica, I don't understand how that jury could have voted unanimously for guilt." (Maybe it was your fault!)

"Do you really want to know why?"

"Yes, I do."

"Because, Jeremy, the average person isn't attracted to somebody like you. You come across to others as a person who's arrogant and self-centered. But instead of evading my question, why don't you just tell me what happened."

"Alright," said Jeremy, who was irked by the way Jessica had used the verdict of the jury to describe her own feelings towards him.

"Jeremy--is this the part where you freeze up and say you can't talk about what happened because I won't go to bed with you?"

Only now, did Jeremy realize the extent and depth of Jessica's fury. One wrong word and he knew that he would be thrown out of both her office and her life. "I apologize for having said that, Jessica--it was a stupid thing to say."

"It was a little bit worse than stupid, Jeremy."

"Jessica--"

"So tell me what happened."

"Alright--about a year before the night of the murder, the fake murder, my mother decided to disappear. I know hate is a strong word, but it isn't really strong enough to describe the way my mother felt about my father. For one thing, although she pretended not to know, she knew about almost every one of his affairs. However, what really drove her over the edge was the death of Catherine, my younger sister."

"What did that have to do with anything?"

"She had died of SIDS in 1999, when she was a year and a half old. Unfortunately for my father, he had been the only one in the house when she died."

"And your mother blamed him?"

"He hadn't wanted the child. From what my mother told me, he had tried to persuade her to have an abortion, but she's always been opposed to them, and so when Catherine died, she suspected that he had smothered her."

"Did he?"

"No--it was just my mother being emotional and overreacting. When your husband is having one affair after another, the anger can come out in strange and unexpected ways."

"So she decided to disappear. Then what?"

Jeremy noticed that Jessica's anger towards him had begun to recede and that she was falling into her inquisitive lawyer mode. A welcome improvement! "Her plan was not to just disappear--that was only half of it. The other half was that she wanted to frame my father for her own murder."

"This was her idea then?"

"Yes. When she first talked to me about disappearing, she didn't mention my father, but as time went on, he began to slip into the conversation."

"Jeremy, this doesn't make any sense to me--where did the blood come from? All the experts said there were at least six pints at the scene."

"Actually, it was seven. When she was in her early twenties, my mother had been a nurse, and she knew how to draw blood. So over the course of a year, she withdrew the seven pints from herself."

"Seven pints in a year?"

"According to her, the guidelines for drawing blood are once every eight weeks."

"Really?"

"I guess so, Jessica, because we had seven pints by the time she left."

"Where did she keep the blood?"

"Until my mother recruited me, which wasn't until March, she kept the blood bags in a small freezer that was hidden in the basement of their house, but once she confided in me, we moved the freezer to my house."

"And you didn't have any problem with sending your father to prison for the rest of his life?"

"Not at the time. I do now, but the way my mother explained it to me was that after five years, she'd send back a video proving she was still alive. I don't know whether she would have done that or not, but that's what she told me."

"And that didn't bother you?"

"To tell you the truth, I thought my father deserved it. After the way he had treated my mother, it wasn't hard for me to understand why thoughts of revenge would cross her mind."

"But that's what your mother felt. Why would you help her do something like this?"

"I basically agreed with her," he said coldly. "It didn't seem wrong to me to punish him for what he had done to her. I felt a lot of sympathy for my mother. Still do."

"But doesn't your conscience bother you?"

"I think the only reason my so-called conscience bothers me now is because I know everyone, including you, is going to judge me and look upon me as if I were the devil."

"I don't think you're the devil, Jeremy, but that's one of the worst things you can do to another person. Don't you remember how angry you were with Shawn when he testified against you?"

"That's different because--"

"No, it isn't, Jeremy--it's exactly the same thing."

"Maybe," he said after a moment's reflection. "But let's not get wrapped up in the morality of the whole thing because it doesn't lead anywhere. Besides, you always told me that you were against judgment--here's your chance to prove the truth of what you said."

"I was speaking in a legal sense, Jeremy."

"And this is?" he said, in a puzzled voice.

"This is between you and me, Jeremy. I'm not speaking as a lawyer but as a ordinary person, and I think what you did to your father was utterly disgraceful."

Jeremy cringed before Jessica's wrath. "I don't know, Jessica...just listen to me, will you?"

"Go on," she said indifferently.

"By early August, my mother and I had the whole thing worked out, and--"

"I take it your sister didn't know anything about this?"

"Selena?" said Jeremy, laughing. "God no! She'd have called the cops in a heartbeat if she had any idea what my mother and I were up to."

"Where did your mother go when she left?"

"She had met a really rich guy back in 2001 when she had gone on a business trip to Chicago. And when I say this guy was rich, I mean he was million-dollar rich--that's where, for instance, my mother got the money for my car payments."

"What's his name?"

"She called him Alex, but there's no chance that's his real name. My mother was very paranoid about being discovered and told me virtually nothing about herself except that she had changed her name."

"Any idea where they lived?"

"No, she thought it was better that way. The only contact we had was by e-mail, and I know, from what she told me, that she used computers at various public libraries. Also, on my birthday and Christmas, she would mail me seven one-hundred-dollar bills--postmarked from Chicago, and I'll bet you anything that neither the bills nor the envelopes had her fingerprints on them. In case you're wondering why it was seven, that was her favorite number."

"Was that your payment for helping her?"

"No...maybe partly. Before she left, she gave me fifteen grand in cash--that money also came from Alex and turned into the $5,000 bank deposit that Lyle Hawkins questioned me about."

"What happened to the rest of the money?"

"I didn't want to deposit the whole amount in the bank because I thought it might attract attention, so I kept the rest of the money as cash and used it whenever I bought something."

"So why did your mother come back to Lancaster?"

"Because of me. She was convinced that the courts would be unlikely to overthrow my murder conviction unless she physically appeared. She also felt that even if she sent back irrefutable proof she was alive, such as a dated video, the prosecutor would throw the book at me and send me to prison for a long, long time. They probably will anyway, but from what my mother's told me, she's going to try and take the fall for this. Somehow, she seems to think that she can buy her way out of a prison sentence."

"What does that mean?"

"I guess Alex has connections or something--I really don't know."

"And so if you had been found innocent, she would have just gone back to Chicago?"

"Of course."

"What if she hadn't returned to save you?"

"That was the real nightmare scenario, but I never worried about it much because the night before my mother disappeared, she promised me that if the truth ever came out, she would come back to Lancaster."

"And you trusted her?"

"She's a religious person, and her promises are sacred, at least to her."

"I still don't get it--why didn't she just disappear?"

"Because this plan to frame my father for her murder had entered her mind."

"And I guess," said Jessica, in a somewhat gentler voice, "all this accounts for your reluctance to talk to me about what actually happened that night."

"Yes. I just didn't dare to tell you the truth."

"Because I was a lawyer?"

"Yes--if I had told you that my mother was alive wouldn't you have had to tell the judge?"

"Yes, Jeremy, there's no way that I could have withheld that information."

## CHAPTER FORTY:

## "THERE ARE SO MANY KING SMALLS RUNNING AROUND THIS WORLD."

"Is it alright," said Jeremy, "if I move this chair closer to your desk? I feel like I'm on a raft in the middle of the ocean."

"Feel free," said Jessica, "but remember, favors come with responsibilities."

"How about if I tell you what really happened that night?"

"I'm listening."

"My mother and I calculated everything out carefully, and if Shawn had kept his mouth shut, no one would ever have suspected anything. About six months before she disappeared, my mother told me that she knew my father was having an affair--this would be with the woman who came before Rachel Cameron. She was crying and weeping, and I can remember one night in particular when she was talking about committing suicide. She actually had a bottle of sleeping pills in her hand that I had to wrest away from her, and for the next couple of weeks, I visited her every day because I was so worried about her. But then, all of a sudden, her whole attitude changed, and when I asked her why she seemed so happy, she told me that she had met a guy on the internet and was thinking about leaving Lancaster to live with him. Of course, now that I know what I know, her suicide rant was just something that she used to trick me into helping her. The seven pints of blood proves that she had been working on her disappearance for a long time. And as far as Alex goes, I later found out that she had met him in the fall of 2001."

"You didn't know that she had been having her own affair?"

"No," said Jeremy, laughing. "But she must have had a broken heart to do something like that because she just wasn't the type. Anyways, I told her that I thought leaving my father was a good idea, and a few days later, we had a long conversation where, for the first time, she talked to me about how she was thinking of faking her own murder."

"She told you about the blood?"

"Yes, but at first, when she discussed this with me, she didn't mention anything about my father, and it was only later that I realized she wasn't so much interested in faking her murder as she was in framing my father for the murder."

"And you said that you'd help her?"

"I know it sounds like I'm trying to absolve myself, but I was brought into this slowly--my mother didn't just come out and say, 'Let's see if we can get your father convicted of murder.' It was more like she was thinking out loud, and she would say, 'Jeremy, If the cops think I was murdered, they'd probably suspect your father.' When she first began talking this way, I wasn't even sure she was serious, so I just played along to humor her. It was certainly better than listening to her talk about suicide. And then, one day, when we were discussing the whole thing, I mentioned that we could plant some of her blood in his car." Jeremy stopped and hesitated before he continued. "Jessica, I don't really blame myself for this. I was just a twenty-three-year-old kid who loved his mother and despised his father. It's what happened after my father was arrested that bothers me."

"I would think so."

Jeremy could see that Jessica was disgusted--if not with him, then with what he had done. "It was because she was my mother, Jessica--that's the only reason I helped her. Until it happened, I never really grasped the fact of what it would feel like to be responsible for putting a person into prison for the rest of his life."

"How did your mother feel after your father was convicted?"

"She was like--she was gloating. A couple of days after he was sentenced to the forty years, she sent me an e-mail that said, 'Five years, Jeremy, and then I'll figure out a way to get the rat out of prison.' But I knew she was probably lying and would be perfectly happy to just let him serve out his term. And since I had no idea where she was living, that made it impossible for me to help my father even if I had wanted to. I couldn't very well go to the police and say that my mother was alive. Where, exactly?"

"They could have traced her through the e-mails, or at least by reading them, they would have known that she was alive."

"I don't think something like that would have affected Justin Merrill--he just would have thought it was a hoax. And besides, since I had already stabbed my father in the back, I wasn't about to do the same thing to my mother. Look, Jessica, I was not the one who gave birth to this idea--I was the one who was caught in the middle. My mother, had she been a normal person, could have divorced my father and gone off to Chicago--free and clear. All I was trying to do, at least at the beginning, was to prevent her from committing suicide."

"I don't think many people are going to sympathize with you, Jeremy."

"Wait until my sister tracks me down--I'll need to have a bodyguard."

"Jeremy, let's go back to the night of the murder. Was your mother there that night?"

"No--it wasn't like that at all. The only thing that my mother did, besides providing the blood, was to put the blood and the piece of plastic inside the trunk of my father's car. That happened late in the afternoon on the night she disappeared."

"But if she wasn't there that night, how did her car come to be in the garage?"

"After my mother left my grandmother's that night, she met Shawn who--"

"Shawn?"

"Yes, I had driven Shawn down there on my way to Norton's, and he waited in a park that was near where my grandmother lived. I had to talk my mother into using Shawn--she didn't like him at all and thought it was risky to trust him, but--"

"She was certainly right about that."

"Jessica, if we hadn't used Shawn, it would have been very difficult to make the fake murder work without running a real risk of implicating ourselves."

"Why's that?"

"Because we had to have a third person--just listen to me, and you'll see why. Around ten past eight, my mother met Shawn, and they drove to a restaurant where she had arranged to meet Alex. Shawn dropped her off there and drove her car back to Lancaster and waited in a place where he could see my parent's house. As soon as my father left the house, he drove my mother's car into the garage. The reason he parked in the garage is complicated. Care to hear it?"

"Of course."

"At first glance, leaving the car in the driveway would seem to be the better option. Then my father would have had to explain why he hadn't realized that my mother was missing when he left for work that night. However, I thought that keeping my mother's car hidden in the garage was a better idea because it fit in perfectly with the attempt to frame my father."

"But Jeremy, if the car had been left in the driveway, your father couldn't have seen it because Shawn didn't arrive there until after he left for work."

"Jessica!" said Jeremy, with a smile. "I thought you were the sharpest tack in the drawer. Yes, the car wouldn't have actually been in the driveway when my father left that night, so he couldn't possibly have seen it. What I'm talking about is where the cops would find my mother's car and the conclusions they would draw from that."

"I still don't get it, Jeremy."

"If the cops found the car in the driveway, a really shrewd detective might have realized that my father's actions made no sense."

"Because?"

"Because when my father left the house, he would have known that something was wrong--my mother's car was there, but where was my mother? How could he possibly explain the fact that he simply ignored all this and drove off to work?"

"Easy--your father could have said that he hadn't seen her while he was inside the house. Just because he walks out the front door and sees her car in the driveway doesn't mean that's he's going to conclude she's missing."

"That's true, but if he had been the murderer, he would have moved the car into the garage."

"Why?"

"Jessica, I just told you the reason--he would have wanted to avoid any questions about why he saw her car in the driveway and didn't realize that something was wrong. True, he could have offered an explanation, but if he had been the murderer, parking the car in the garage would have seemed like his best option. The trouble with doing that, however, is that it shows a consciousness of guilt. Why else would the car be in the garage? This issue was never brought up at his trial, but it would have been a good piece of evidence against him."

"Alright," said Jessica, who was annoyed with Jeremy's perfect-crime attitude, "I'll take your word for it. What time did you arrive at your parent's house?"

"About twenty minutes past twelve--ten minutes before I called 911."

"Ten minutes?"

"Yes--obviously, the whole plot would have been ruined if I were stopped by the police for speeding, so I drove just above the speed limit all the way home. I assumed, of course, that because of the distance between Norton's and my parent's house, I would have an airtight alibi.

"Why did you think you needed an alibi?"

"Because my father would have known, for an absolute fact, that the murder occurred between 11:40 and 12:30. And also, there's the police fantasy about how the one to discover the body is often the murderer." Jeremy laughed and said, "Strange, isn't it? As careful as I was, my alibi wasn't good enough!"

"If you were so worried about that, why were you the one to discover the body?"

"Both my mother and I thought that was essential because if my father had been the one to discover what had happened, it would have been at least eight o'clock in the morning, and who knows what the scene in the woods would have looked like by that time? We had no idea how far the blood would have soaked into the ground by nine o'clock in the morning, and if there were to be even a small rain shower, that could have wrecked everything. Obviously, the most important thing was that we wanted everyone to be certain that my mother was dead, and so that's the main reason why I arrived at 12:20. Not only that, we knew my father would become the obvious suspect since he didn't leave the house until 11:40.

"Why did the murder occur in the woods? Wouldn't the bedroom have been a better way to frame your father?"

"My mother also wanted the murder to occur in the bedroom, and for a while, it seemed like an excellent idea, but then I did some research and discovered that there are people called blood spatter experts who can examine blood stains and determine from their pattern what actually happened. So we decided the murder should happen outdoors--plus, the woods fit in much better with the blood in the trunk of my father's car because it was definitely problematic to be dragging my mother's bloody body through the house and into the garage, especially since there wouldn't be a body to drag. My mother tried to persuade me that I could drag Shawn down the stairs and out to the garage, but I felt that was far too risky. Shawn would, for instance, have to be soaked in my mother's blood before I began bouncing him down the stairs."

"So Shawn was part of this from the beginning?"

"No, I never talked to him about it until the middle of August."

"What was his role?" asked Jessica.

"He was the one who did almost everything. That's why I gave him the two grand."

"He was telling the truth about the money?"

"Absolutely."

"Did he meet you at the bar that night?"

"No, after he dropped my mother off at the restaurant, he drove straight back to Lancaster. It was a long drive because the restaurant was about fifty miles in the wrong direction."

"And so the molestation charges were also false?"

"Maybe--maybe not," said Jeremy, in a defiant tone.

"Jeremy, you can't keep doing this."

"Telling lies?" he said with hostility. "You bet I will when it comes to Shawn Evans. And nobody, not even you, is going to stop me."

Maybe it was just as well, thought Jessica. She was worried about the perjury charges that he might be facing. "I understand why you feel as you do, Jeremy. But my point is a legal one, and what I'm interested in is this: Is it possible, physically possible, that Shawn could have met you at the bar that night?"

"Did he have the time to do it?"

"Yes."

Jeremy thought for a few seconds. "Yes, but it couldn't have been as early as nine like I said when I was on the stand. Why?"

"Just wondering."

"Don't tell me that you're encouraging me to lie!" He said it with a playful sense of triumph.

"No, Jeremy, a good lawyer would never do that." The dryness of that remark was offset by a playful wink.

Jeremy was delighted with her attitude and said, "Just my bad luck that I've found an honest lawyer."

Jessica laughed. "You see, Jeremy, when you confide in me and treat me like a human being, instead of an official, I will go the extra mile for you."

"Got it."

"Alright, Jeremy--if this was so carefully planned out, why did you make a date with Audrey for that night?"

"One thing I've learned from all this is that it's amazing how many things can go wrong when you're trying to deceive people. What happened was that the owner of Norton's had phoned me sometime during the middle of August and asked me if I could play on the 8th of September. The day after that call, I told Audrey about it, and we made a date to go there together. Then, about a week later, my mother and I decided that the night of the 8th would be the perfect night for her to disappear because I would not only have my alibi but also the excuse to come by the house a half hour after midnight. After all, if I had been in Lancaster that night, I could have arrived anytime after seven o'clock since my father would have been sleeping. But by the time the 8th rolled around, I had completely forgotten about my date with Audrey, and it wasn't until the afternoon of the murder, when she left a message on my cell phone, that I realized I had made a blunder."

"Sometimes you're like an absent-minded professor, Jeremy."

"That's true. Practical things bore me--I've always thought they're the refuge of people who have no imaginations."

"OK," said Jessica, who often found Jeremy's putdowns to be annoying, "so Shawn arrived at the house just after your father left?"

"Yes, I had spent the previous two nights talking the whole thing over with him, and he knew exactly what he was supposed to do. Naturally, Shawn being Shawn, he decided to freelance, and I was too nervous to notice the two beer bottles on the kitchen table. And Selena's room was just an idiotic thing for him to do."

"That wasn't part of the plan?"

"No!"

"What about the missing jewelry? Was that something else that he freelanced?"

"No," said Jeremy, in a humorous tone, "that was the one thing my mother took with her. She didn't need money, but she did want her necklaces, rings, and earrings."

"But if the plan was to make it look as if she was murdered, that doesn't make any sense."

"That's why I tried to persuade my mother to forget about the jewelry. But she said the cops were too stupid to figure out something that subtle. And she was right. Also, after I thought about it, I realized that the missing jewelry fit into the idea of a staged disappearance. "

"Shawn was the one who spread the blood around?"

"Yes. Just before I left for Norton's, I had brought the unfrozen blood bags from my apartment and put them, along with a flashlight and the ripped top half of my mother's nightgown, under the bed in my room. But before Shawn went out to the woods, he took my mother's handbag, which she had left in her car, and went upstairs so he could make it seem like my mother had struggled with my father before she ran out of the house. That's when he must have done Selena's room. After that, he went out to the woods and emptied a little over six pints of my mother's blood--the rest of it ended up in the trunk of my father's car and the shower drain."

"So it wasn't you who took the shower?"

"No, nobody showered, except maybe my father before he went to work. There was no need for me to take one because I didn't have any blood on me, and I knew that if the cops found my mother's blood in the shower drain, they would connect it to my father."

"And then?"

"About 12:20, I came onto the scene. The first thing I did was I had Shawn take a knife from the kitchen and go out to the murder site and wipe the knife in the blood. When he returned, I had him cut off a piece of plastic from the roll in the garage--the reason I had him do everything was because I couldn't afford to have a drop of blood on me. Shawn took that small piece of plastic and left it where my mother's blood was--the idea was to make it look as if my father had used the plastic as a kind of shroud when he placed my mother's body in his car."

"But how did Shawn know about the piece of plastic that was found in the trunk of your father's car?"

"About a week before my mother disappeared, Shawn began to become paranoid that we might be caught, so I told him the details of how my mother and I had worked out a way to frame my father. It's no exaggeration to say that Shawn knew almost as much about this as I did, and that's why his confession was so convincing."

"I know I asked you this before, but why would Shawn have done this to you?"

"Now that I've had time to think about it, Shawn undoubtedly felt that he had been rejected by everyone in our family, except maybe my father. During his junior year in high school, he had run away from home and was sleeping in a large closet at the apartment of one of his brothers. When my parents first met Shawn, they were sympathetic to him and treated him almost like he was my brother, but once my mother suspected Selena was sexually involved with him, everything began to change. And when Selena dumped him, he was devastated."

"But all that happened three or four years before his confession."

"It could have been something very simple that set him off, Jessica. Maybe he was downtown one night and saw Selena with one of her boyfriends."

"What does that have to do with you?"

"Probably not that much, but you have to remember that his knowledge of what happened that night gave him power over me. That's exactly how someone like Shawn would think, and it doesn't surprise me that he sought to gain something from that power. It could have been money, but as it turned out, it became a way to not only reduce his sentence but also to destroy me."

"But why you? What had you ever done to him?"

"Nothing. I'm sure that if Shawn had been given a choice, he would much rather have sent Selena to prison, but in the end, he settled for me because I was the only one available. What he did was very diabolical and carefully thought out, especially since he probably thought my mother would never return to Lancaster."

"So you don't think he made up his story on the day that he was interrogated by Lyle Hawkins?"

"No, that's impossible. Think about it--the difference in driving times, the car payments, and the dumpster were just three of his many clever inventions."

"He knew what time you actually left Norton's that night?"

"I probably told him, but by the time of his confession, it had been almost three years since the murder, so he couldn't possibly have remembered everything. He must have researched this on the internet, or maybe he went to the library and read through some back issues of the Lancaster Times."

"Then it was just a coincidence that he told his story after he was arrested for the convenience store robbery?"

"I think so. When you read the transcript of his interrogation, you can see that he was hesitant to talk about it. And even though he had thought everything through down to the last detail, he might never have said anything unless he had been threatened with the five years in prison."

"And so, if I remember right, his claim that he was the one who put the blood in your father's car was false?"

"Like I said, my mother did that the day this all happened. The only other thing that Shawn did was that when he left, he took the empty blood bags, the flashlight, and the bloody knife with him."

"How did he leave?"

"Earlier in the day, before I drove him to the park near my grandmother's house, Shawn hid his motorcycle in the woods off Pinecrest Drive--close to where he spilled my mother's blood."

"Why did you ever trust this guy, Jeremy?"

"For two or three years, back when we first met, I spent hours a day with Shawn and used to do a lot of crazy things with him. I can remember a cold night in late October when we'd been out drinking and were walking back to my car; there it was--two-fifteen in the morning, and we were passing in front of some fancy store with a huge plate glass window and BOOM! I just gave it a karate chop with my foot, and it shattered into ten thousand bits. That's the way I was then--kind of a nihilist, if that's the right word, which it probably isn't."

"And Shawn was your partner in crime?"

"Whenever I did anything illegal, he was right there beside me. It sounds stupid now, but I never thought he would double-cross me."

"They're going to throw the book at you for this, Jeremy. You do realize that, don't you?"

"What will the charge be? Obstruction of justice?"

"Probably--and believe me, you won't be getting a slap on the wrist."

"I read where the maximum sentence for that is ten years."

"That sounds about right. Not only that, you're going to have to be prepared for a good deal of outrage."

"I suppose so," said Jeremy, who seemed to have lost interest in the conversation.

"You suppose? Wait until you see the Lancaster Times tomorrow--it'll be worse than if you had actually murdered your mother."

"So what?" said Jeremy. "Everything is meaningless, too small to matter, but newspapers represent the smallest ideas of the smallest people. There are," he said, with an amused laugh, "so many King Smalls running around this world."

"You're so humble, Jeremy." Even though she had spoken sarcastically, there was a pleasant tone to her voice. Sometimes, Jessica found his perpetual intellectual sassiness to be appealing.

"Jessica, I can understand how you feel about what I did to my father, so if you don't want anything to do with me, that's OK."

"I feel like I should despise you, Jeremy, but I don't. You probably won't like the word, but what I actually feel for you is pity."

"That sounds alright to me--much better than I expected. I sure won't be receiving anything like that from Selena. So why do you pity me?"

"I would agree with you that much of this was not your fault but was a result of the relationship between your mother and father. And, knowing you, your mother's disappearance was probably, at least at the beginning, more of a playful lark than anything else--like breaking plate glass windows."

"You're right--that's pretty much the way I felt about it. So you'll continue to defend me?"

"Yes, I will."

## CHAPTER FORTY-ONE:

## "I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD LIFE, BUT I DON'T THINK THAT'S LIKELY."

Now that Jeremy's role in his mother's disappearance had become public knowledge, he had been avoiding his father like the plague. But Dana kept phoning him and leaving supportive messages on his answering machine, and so, against his better judgment, Jeremy finally returned one of his calls.

"Jeremy!" he heard his father say. "It's good to hear your voice."

What was he supposed to say to that? "I'm sorry--I've been busy." Busy avoiding you.

"What a shock," said Dana. "It never even occurred to me that your mother might still be alive."

Jeremy was perplexed by his father's attitude and wondered if it was a front that was designed to deceive him before the hammer came down. "Dad, an apology sounds so meaningless at a time like this. I know nothing I say can undo what I did."

"Jeremy, forget about it. We all have to live in the future, and everyone would be far happier if they forgot about the past. The thing that's really ironic is that I knew you believed I was the one who had murdered your mother." Dana laughed as if he had just heard a joke. "I guess you weren't as upset as I thought you were."

"I'm so sorry, Dad--really, I am." Not really, but given his father's attitude, he had to say something accommodating.

"Jeremy, if your mother and I had been decent parents, none of this would ever have happened."

True--but it was so odd to hear his father say that. Now, instead of making some lame attempt to defend himself, Jeremy felt forced to support his father. "Dad--people just can't blame others for all their mistakes. It's important that I take responsibility for what I've done."

"I suppose so," said Dana, "but that doesn't take away from the fact that I failed you as a father."

"Perhaps." Jeremy was wary to say much of anything because he couldn't get over the feeling that this unexpectedly pleasant conversation was about to become ugly.

"Jeremy, let's not drag this around for the rest of our lives. We both have a lot to be ashamed of, but who wants to live in shame when they can avoid it?"

Jeremy wasn't the least inclined to argue with the olive branch that was being offered to him. "Maybe we can just look on it as a nightmare."

"Absolutely! If you and I make the past real, then we'll suffer for it. So let's pretend that it never happened."

"Do you think we can actually do that?" said Jeremy. His father's attitude seemed otherworldly--as if he had just read a charismatic book about forgiveness. Of course, thought Jeremy, one didn't have to be a religious person to forgive because if nothing was important, then forgiveness became as natural as breathing.

"Why not?" said Dana. "All it takes is a small amount of self-discipline. If you see a skunk, you don't go over and pet it, do you? Forgive and forget, Jeremy--there's no better way to live."

Jeremy knew that Selena would have an entirely different reaction, and the day of reckoning came on the weekend following the conversation with his father. Dressed entirely in black, she had come storming into Jeremy's condo under a full head of steam.

"I need to talk to you," she said in a harsh voice.

As they sat down, Jeremy gazed out the window and said to himself, "Keep cool--in a few minutes, she'll be gone, and no matter what she says, it isn't important because everything is unimportant." Jeremy assumed that Selena would be going into preacher mode, but he was sauntering down the road to billion-trillion town, the eternal place where "meaningful" things had been laughed out of existence.

"Jeremy, what you did was utterly disgraceful. Dad keeps telling me it isn't that big a deal, but I am not going to forget it. You understand?"

When Selena became angry, she was a frightening woman, and he had never seen her so angry. "Do you understand?" she repeated, in a savage and strange voice that he had never heard before.

"Yes," he said with contrived meekness. If her intent was to humble him, his father's approach was much better.

"How could you do something like that? How long would you have let Dad sit in prison? The rest of his life?"

"No...I don't know. Selena--"

"You don't know. Isn't that fantastic? What a noble sentiment--you just inspire me so much with all your words of wisdom. And the way you talked to me on the day of Mom's funeral. Mocking me, taunting me. You knew she was alive! And you just sat there with that condescending look on your face--just like you're doing now."

"Selena--"

"You know what, Jeremy?" She walked over closer to where he was sitting, and he looked at her nervously as he wondered if she was about to physically attack him. "You're nothing but a self-indulgent dope-smoking bum. It's just you, you, you. And if Dad spends the rest of his life in prison, so what? It's good for a laugh, and besides, Jeremy Breen doesn't have to worry about a guilty conscience because he knows that nothing is important--what a bunch of garbage."

"I know that, Selena," he said slowly.

"You know what, Jeremy? What exactly do you know?"

"That what I did was wrong."

"Wrong? Hello! It was a bit more than wrong. How would you like to spend the rest of _your_ life in prison? Maybe that would be important! How would Mr. Cool like that one?"

Jeremy could see Selena's point and feel her rage, but he was becoming bored with her self-righteousness. Some day, she'd make a mistake, and she'd find out what it feels like to have this kind of antiquated morality heaped on top of your head. "Don't worry, Selena, I'll be going to prison."

"I should hope so--it's just what you deserve. Remember, Jeremy, they don't have dope there."

He was on the verge of losing it, but all he said was "I don't suppose they do."

"Jeremy, you better not ask me to speak in your support when they sentence you because you'll be lucky if I don't stand up and demand that they put _you_ away for life."

So full of herself, so sure she was right. "That's OK, Selena, I understand."

"You don't understand anything, Jeremy--you're nothing but a sorry excuse for an imbecile."

For the first time, Jeremy felt some sympathy for her. It was just like his father had said--there was no point in going through the rest of their lives with these judgmental thoughts running through their heads. But when a person started calling you an imbecile, what could you say to them? It would only add fuel to the fire.

"Anyways, Jeremy, the reason I came over here is to tell you that I don't ever want to speak to you again. I don't even want to be in the same room with you because I need to be around people who inspire me and framing Dad for murder just doesn't do it for me."

"Selena, I know you don't believe me, but I'm truly sorry for what I've done." He wasn't, of course, but he was sorry that she was taking it so hard. On the other hand, what business was it of hers? Wasn't it between him and his father?

"Oh sure--you're sorry! Well, Jeremy, I'm sorry that it's come to this. Goodbye, and for what it's worth, I hope you have a good life, but I don't think that's likely."

She stormed out of the room while Jeremy remained in his chair. The word imbecile kept floating through his mind, and he started to laugh. Today, if one had to choose between Selena and himself, who had been the one acting like an imbecile? Maybe it ran in the family, thought Jeremy, as he laughed out loud. His mother and father had acted like imbeciles, which had caused him to act like an imbecile, and now Selena had joined the crowd. But eventually, when people acted like imbeciles, they always ended up eating a large serving of crow. That's what had happened to his father, his mother, and himself. Meanwhile, Selena was riding high on her little wave of moral superiority, but the day would come when she'd be apologizing to someone for something. And maybe the apology would be to him.

## CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: THE PHANTOM

For Jeremy, the perjury and contempt of court charges were dropped, and he pleaded guilty to one count of obstruction of justice. At his sentencing hearing, his father spoke in his defense. "I understand my son broke the law and should be punished, but I hope this court will take into account that I bear absolutely no ill will towards him. Quite the contrary. In fact, I feel certain that if I had been the father I should have been, he would never be here today." Dana continued with yet another account of his sexual transgressions and how they had affected his family, before making an emotional plea that his son be spared from a prison sentence. He concluded his statement by saying, "I hope this court will take the three years I served in prison and subtract it from Jeremy's sentence."

Dana was followed by Karen Breen whom the newspapers had dubbed the Phantom. She had made no public remarks about her role in the crime, and the courtroom was crowded beyond capacity as she took the stand to testify in Jeremy's behalf. Now forty-six, she was a striking woman--tall and lithe, with dark brown hair and a strange but sometimes appealing voice. Her reputation as a mysterious woman was enhanced by the stylish six-hundred-dollar sunglasses that she always wore when she appeared in public. For the most part, her statement was permeated with lies, self-compliments, and exaggerations, but perhaps, when I state that, I fail to be entirely objective.

"I came back to this town to accept responsibility for my actions." Readjusting herself in her seat, she tossed her head disdainfully before continuing. "I understand there is no excuse for what I did, but--" Here, she interrupted herself with a prolonged cough. "As my ex-husband told you, I had to endure many things during my marriage to him." Now, she removed her sunglasses and put them into her purse. Staring directly at the judge, she said, "He thought I had no knowledge of his affairs, but I did; he thought he could get away with murdering my baby, but he couldn't." Speaking with a peculiar intensity that could only be called eerie, she said, "My ex-husband has said that he deserved to spend time in prison, and for once, he is right about something. In fact, if it were up to me, he would be spending many more years in a jail cell. It's all very well to sit here and apologize, but words can never compensate for what he did to me.

"Simply because I did not make a report of it, everyone assumes that there was no physical abuse in our marriage, but that is hardly the case. If it had not been for my two children--and please notice that I did not say our two children because although he was the biological father, no one in their right mind would call him a father--if not for Jeremy and Selena, I would have left him at the time he murdered my youngest daughter.

"And who was my defender through all this? Was it the police? No, they were too busy with other things to perceive the truth, and when I complained about the murder of my daughter, they told me repeatedly that I was imagining everything. _I did not imagine the murder of my daughter, and for that one, there was a body, a body of truth._ But to answer my question, the one who protected me from the constant abuses that came, on a daily basis, from my ex-husband was my son Jeremy. And now this court, which offered no protection to me, wants to punish him. For what? What did my son do exactly?

"Jeremy did not devise this plan to save me from my ex-husband--I did. And it was certainly not Jeremy's idea to have his father accused of murder--that came straight from me because I was determined to bring him to justice for the murder of my daughter. Jeremy had nothing to do with any of this--in point of fact, he tried to talk me out of it. Neither did he have anything to do with planting the evidence at my house on the night that I disappeared. That honor belongs to the man who bore false witness against him. So what was so wrong about what Jeremy did that night--what did he actually do that was criminal? In reality, he drove home from the bar where he was playing guitar and phoned 911 to report that I was missing, which I was. Excuse me? Where is the crime?

"Jeremy never, not once, told anyone in law enforcement that I had been murdered, and is this court attempting to claim that it is his responsibility to rectify the many miscalculations and false assumptions of those who investigated this case? What say you? Or do you prefer to remain silent and make my son a scapegoat because you don't have the courage to face the reality of your own incompetence?"

Jeremy also spoke, although in a much gentler tone, and issued the usual trite apology that is often heard in courtrooms. The judge then went through a longwinded litany of outrage before he sentenced Jeremy to five years in the state prison, with the possibility that he could be a free man in a little over three years.

As for Karen Breen, her sentence was mitigated when, as part of a plea deal, her new husband wrote out a check for a half million dollars and gave it to the court. This had the effect of severely diluting the prosecutor's argument that even though Dana Breen might not consider himself a victim, this was not a victimless crime--not when one considered the cost of the three trials that had arisen out of the Breen case. A half million dollars does carry some sway, and Karen Breen was sentenced to six years in prison--an extremely light sentence considering the crime that she had committed.

Shawn Evans was not so lucky. He had no financial backing, and Justin Merrill took out his sense of vengeance on him. Shawn was charged with two counts of obstruction of justice (one for the crime itself and the second for his claim that Jeremy had committed the murder). Justin refused to plea bargain, and Shawn was sentenced to eight years on both counts--to be served consecutively, not concurrently. On top of that, he would still have to finish his sentence on the armed robbery charge. This meant that his earliest release date would be in almost twelve years. However, as he was led out of the courtroom, he managed to tell a reporter that eighteen years in prison were a small price to pay for the chance to put two members of the Breen family behind bars for a total of eleven.

## CHAPTER FORTY-THREE:

## "DON'T WORRY--I'LL ALWAYS BE THERE TO PROTECT YOU."

Dana visited Jeremy frequently during his three-year stay at the county jail, while Selena was, of course, a no-show. For almost a year, Jessica came by about once a week, but then, abruptly, her visits ceased. Jeremy had seen that one coming because during her final visit, Jessica mentioned that she had become engaged and had even shown him the ring the guy had given her. Jeremy's heart sank when he heard this dreadful news; even worse, he could see that Jessica was just going through the motions as she tried to pretend that she was still interested in him.

Once Jessica's visits stopped, the reality of his jail cell closed in on him. True, he'd be out of his weird iron-barred playpen in another couple of years, but for a lively guy who was a month short of his twenty-eighth birthday, it was sometimes difficult to avoid negative feelings. Bleak! His father brought him many books that ranged from supermoronic best-selling mystery novels to the most abstract realms of philosophy, but Jeremy's favorites were about astronomy. Billions of galaxies swirled constantly through his head--like a theme song from a far-out movie.

As the days passed by in a kind of lazy contemplation, Jeremy became absolutely convinced that nothing a human being is capable of experiencing can possibly matter--that was just a persistent illusion of those who thought they were mighty beings involved in weighty and portentous decisions. People who wandered through their days meditating on the great issues: Should I go to the mall or a movie? Or, on the Presidential level, it was equally absurd: Should I compromise with the nasty dopes in the opposite party or veto the new welfare bill? Blah, blah, blah. Should I keep my finger off the nuclear button or, assuming I'm in a foul mood, blow up the world? Did it really make any difference?

For a couple of days, Jeremy debated the nuclear issue with himself. He realized that it certainly didn't sound constructive or sensible to say that it made no difference if the earth blew up in a nuclear explosion. Not only that, Jeremy knew that if he were standing next to the President, he would advise him to immediately seek another option. "Back off, sir, and go play a round of golf." The idea of being fried alive in a nuclear explosion wasn't a happy thought. Of course--and this is what people _always_ forgot--the President would have to be transfixed by an idea of supreme importance to even have his finger on the nuclear button. Supreme Importance! What a laugh! Especially when you considered what people fought wars over--after boiling out all the heroic, belligerent jingoism, it always came down to another stupid, unimportant, egomaniacal ideal that people were willing to die or kill for. Even so, Jeremy still wondered what he should do if it were in his power to prevent a nuclear catastrophe. Stand back and say that it didn't matter, that nothing was important?

He put this perplexing, seemingly important issue aside and went back to square one: Nothing he experienced--or thought about--was important. Including the nuclear issue. Very relaxing! Also, with that realization to guide him, he didn't have to stress out about the mistakes he had made in his own life because, in actual point of fact, they didn't matter. They didn't even matter to his father, so why should he care? Three years in a cell? So what? In another couple of years, he'd be running around in the sunlight as he smoked some ganja and chased gorgeous woman.

But still, while he was trapped in his ugly playpen, he wanted to come to terms with the message that kept coming to him from the galaxies: You are far too small to have any importance; nothing you do makes the least bit of difference; you are nothing but an infinitesimally microscopic flicker of consciousness in a stupendously vast universe. However, it was obvious that it had become impossible for humanity to understand what this flicker of consciousness meant because people always looked at themselves as if they were important. Human consciousness probably existed for a purpose, but to find out what that purpose was one had to abolish the all-important ego, the sense of the self. Jeremy had recently read about the ancient notion that the sun orbited around the earth, and it struck him that the ego was simply a comical attempt to assert that the entire universe revolved around oneself.

So if _everything_ the human experienced was insignificant, Jeremy came to the logical conclusion that he didn't have to decide the answer to all these wretched nuclear-button scenarios that society had created out of its own sense of self-importance. Besides, since nothing mattered, he could just reach over and snap the President's finger before he blew up the world. And why shouldn't he?

But what about murder? Could we just tell a murderer that his crime didn't make any difference? How could that be? Another problem! Jeremy knew that for a theory to be successful, it couldn't have a thousand exceptions. Especially the theory that " _nothing_ we experience matters." Once one started to admit exceptions to that central principle, then before long, everything would matter. Each human being would come up with his or her own set of parameters for what was important, and by the time it was all over, everything under the sun would be considered significant. And then, inevitably, there would be another war--whether it be on the personal or national level.

Jeremy had to laugh. Everyone believed--fanatically!--that his or her life was important, and to defend this exercise in egotistical absurdity, Jeremy had to contend, in his prison cell, with car wrecks caused by drunken idiots, Presidential guys who wanted to blow up the world, and evil characters who had nothing better to do than murder someone. In all seriousness, how frequently did these events occur?

The more Jeremy thought about it, the more the murderer became a bigger problem than the nuclear issue. Obviously, for the sake of everyone, a murderer deserved to be housed in an escape-proof playpen. However, nothing could alter the fact that in a billion years, it wouldn't make the least amount of difference what society did with a murderer. The judges and juries could execute him, incarcerate him, or set him free, and it would be exactly the same thing. That was a stone-cold fact. On the other hand, thought Jeremy, one could never say that in public. Even worse, Jeremy couldn't find a reasonable way out of this philosophical dilemma.

Maybe he didn't know enough, wasn't wise enough. That led him back to Lao Tzu--the crafty old sage who had "retired from the world." Lao must also have believed that nothing mattered because once that realization hit you, the only sensible thing to do was to retire, psychologically, from the world. Jeremy felt that he had found a kindred spirit in Lao--the only difference was that it had taken Lao ninety years to discover what Jeremy had discovered in twenty-eight. Of course, poor Lao didn't have any astronomy books to gaze at, and when one considered that, he had to be granted some slack.

Jeremy read through the _The Way_ a few hundred times--it was such a quaint, funny, and obstreperous book. Gradually, he began to absorb Lao's key idea--the manifestation of the creative power on earth was water. The reason for this was that water always flowed downhill and took the easy path to the ocean. It acted, it moved, but it was the perfect example of non-action. And in Lao's world, non-action was the way that one aligned oneself with the cosmos.

So if a person followed the example of water, wasn't that the same thing as saying that one had no significance? Was anything in nature, excepting man, so stupid as to believe in its own importance? Did water try to climb Mt. Everest so it could plant its flag or its ego on the summit? So when he, Jeremy, became water and followed the path of least resistance, he would immediately wander away from all forms of violence because violence _always_ implied effort and meant that a person believed something was important. That was the only thing he needed to understand--the complete acceptance of one's own insignificance utterly abolished the ego, and the source of all violence was the presumption of one ego that it was better or more important or more justified than another. He didn't have to solve these perplexing issues because he was retreating from the world and passing out of civilization.

Jeremy could see that in the minds of fools, the realization that nothing mattered could lead to dangerous consequences. I can do anything! But one had to be careful not to hurt another because when one did, one was violating the principle that nothing mattered, and when one violated that principle, one would inevitably, with the exactitude of a mathematical principle, suffer. If one jumped off a building, one plunged to the ground; and if one insisted that the self was real, one suffered pain. In other words, you could swim with the current, or you could battle your way upstream and face the fury of reality, the two hundred billion galaxies.

And also, as Jeremy had found out, one sometimes had to deal with the mundane repercussions of society, which didn't tolerate certain kinds of behavior--like faking a murder. It wasn't for him to judge or analyze whether the condemnations of society had any value, and he began to feel that his attempts to answer his philosophical questions were just clever personal evasions built on his own presumptuous idea that he was stumbling onto something important, something significant. Jeremy wasn't planning to write a treatise on what he had discovered because nobody would read it, and even if they did, what difference would it make? The only thing he needed to remember was that nothing he experienced had any importance; that in order to really live, one had to toss the ego _completely_ into the wastebasket; _that this was done by accepting the fact that nothing was significant;_ and that once that happened, one was totally free of the world.

Two days before his release, Selena showed up. She appeared to be angry, but at least she had broken her vow to never speak to him again.

"OK, Jeremy, when you get out of here, are you going to behave yourself?"

Jeremy wanted to say that it didn't really matter whether he behaved himself, but he knew what Selena's reaction to that would be. Painful! And he didn't like pain. "I think so," he said with a slight smile.

"And why do you think that?"

"Three years in a jail cell does have its benefits." Jeremy was just trying to say something that would appease Selena because he could see that she was a fire-breathing God who had come to demand sacrifice.

"I should hope so," she said. "It's a total waste of your abilities."

Jeremy didn't think that meant much of anything because the word ability was just a socially acceptable cover concept for the ego to hide behind. I have a special ability! "True," he said tactfully, "but I've tried to make the best of it."

"You're just lucky that Dad's so tolerant about all of this."

For once, he could agree with her. "I sure am."

"I still don't understand how you could do that to another person--your father, no less."

"You're right, Selena--it was disgraceful."

"Disgraceful doesn't even begin to cover it, Jeremy."

The fire-breathing God was demanding that he grovel. He wouldn't be able to talk about the future but had to remain fixated on the past, the always trivial past. "Selena, listen to me. I know what I did was wrong--I'll never do anything like that again in my life." This was almost undoubtedly true because his prison cell had given him a strong aversion to consequences.

"So what will you do, Jeremy? Run around smoking pot while you gaze at the stars and pretend that everything down here on planet earth has no importance?"

Exactly! He couldn't have phrased it better himself. "No, Selena, I'm not a kid anymore."

"So that's your excuse? You were just a kid when all this happened? You were twenty-three years old, Jeremy."

He'd have to really pour it on to escape the wrath of God. "I was just a jerk, Selena." Suddenly, he had an inspiration that might divert her. "And I hung around with Shawn--that guy is a sociopath."

"Shawn! Don't _ever_ say his name to me again--if he dies in prison, and I hope he does, I'll go to the graveyard and spit on his grave. But Jeremy, you can't blame him for what you did because that's no excuse."

"There is no excuse, Selena," said Jeremy, who was beginning to lose patience with her. If he was going to have to listen to this third-rate moral blather from his sister every time he saw her, then maybe it would be better if they didn't see each other. What a downer!

"But what are you going to do to change yourself so that you don't drift off into another catastrophe?"

Maybe, thought Jeremy, I should join the Moral League and hand out road maps to the nearest church. "What do you think I should do?" he asked Selena, with a sarcasm that she didn't hear.

"For one thing, you should stop smoking the loco weed."

Stick to something safe, like alcohol! "I don't think marijuana's to blame, Selena."

"Probably not, but it would help if you axed that habit out of your life because your head is just filled with all these nutty ideas."

Stay straight! Keep in line! Jeremy had to suppress a laugh.

"Jeremy, said Selena with exasperation, "you just don't care about anyone or anything."

An image of Jessica floated across his mind--a very sensual image. This time, Jeremy couldn't suppress his laugh because he realized how stupid it would sound if he said, "That's not true; I care--or used to care--about my lawyer."

Selena started to squawk. "Jeremy, for God's sake, this isn't funny. That's your whole problem--you think life is a big joke."

Probably, in actuality, it was, and then everybody ruined the joke because they took it so seriously. "Lighten up, Selena. Life's too short to carry around a grudge. What good will it do you?"

"I should just drop it and pretend that what you did never happened? Isn't that convenient!"

"I can't change the past, Selena. It's done! I'm sorry about what happened--what more can I do?"

"I don't know, Jeremy--you just don't get it."

"Haven't you ever made a mistake, Selena?"

"Not like the one you made--not even close."

"But you might."

"Not likely, and if I did, I'd set myself on fire, shoot myself in the head, and jump off the top of a forty-story building."

"Selena, you're making a mistake right now."

"Probably I am--probably, I shouldn't even be talking to you. You're just a bad influence on me--every time I think of you, I fly into a rage. The next thing you know, I'll have to start taking tranquilizers."

"I guess it's going to take a while, Selena. I'm sorry--that's all I can say."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry--you're like a broken record. It might be all right if you were truly sorry, but you're not. You're just saying that to appease me."

How true!

"Look, Jeremy, some of the things you say make sense, but you're forgetting something."

"Probably I am." Jeremy was hoping that everyone he knew would forget everything.

"Jeremy, you're just living by some fancy, irrelevant ideas that have entered your head. You're all head and no heart--you don't have sympathy for anyone. What you did to Dad was just the tip of the iceberg because your soul is as cold as ice, and you have the mind set of a Mafia hit guy."

Jeremy couldn't help himself and burst out laughing. Now he was a Mafia hit guy!

"You see," she said, "it's all a big laugh to you. Don't you feel any remorse for what you did to Dad?"

So what was he supposed to do? Go around like a penitent monk for the rest of his life? Mea culpa and all that nonsense. "Of course I do," he said diplomatically.

She stared at him for some moments before she said, "You don't have any connection with humanity, Jeremy. Instead of thinking about the universe, you should concentrate on this earth and specifically the people who inhabit it."

Become involved! Slave over some job as if it were meaningful. Join the modern army of raving, good-for-nothing materialists. Everything Selena said sounded fantastic, but it was actually based on a possessive and dangerous emotion: Caring! People who cared about _their_ God; people who cared about _their_ country; people who cared about _their_ family; people who cared about _their_ career. "You're right," he said to Selena, as the word Machiavellian danced through his mind, "I don't know why, but I've always found it difficult to care about others."

"The stars are important, Jeremy, but the earth is where we live. You'd be far better off if you stopped dreaming and started to care about other people."

It all sounded great--somewhat like a campaign commercial--but Jeremy remained convinced that Selena was mistaken because the socially approved, guilt-ridden mandate of caring was far different than the freedom and ecstasy of love. And didn't every war and murder arise out of the caring emotion? _Every war and murder._ Selena could say whatever she wanted to, invent reason after reason, but for Jeremy, caring was the road that led straight into hell.

Jeremy's first night of freedom was a mild, drizzly night in early September, and he spent the early evening hours wandering around the streets of Lancaster. Although it was a dark night, Jeremy was wearing sunglasses so he could block out the glaring images of a world that no longer interested him. Sunglasses at night! The way of the sages! The sunglasses protected him, protected him from himself, protected him from believing in the mirage, the endless assertion that emanated from everyone and everything--I'm important, and the universe revolves around me.

Eventually, Jeremy was able to descend, at least briefly, from the stratosphere and began to reflect on all the nonsense that had descended upon him in the last few years. However, before he could get immersed in that, an image of Jessica came into his mind, and before long, he could feel a sense of depression sweeping over him. Since he felt depressed, he knew that he must be giving importance to something that was meaningless. Jessica...so what? There were a billion fish in the ocean, and he was feeling gloomy because one of them had drifted off into the vast sea of humanity? How stupid was that? "I'm just a great Big Moron," he said to himself, with a laugh.

It seemed strange to him that the only person he felt any affection for at the moment was his father. That guy really knew how to roll with the punches! The one person on this earth who really had a right to be angry with him, and he just tossed the past aside like it was nonexistent. Impulsively, he decided to drop by his father's place and see if he was home--it would be pleasant to talk to someone who wasn't going to pound him on the head with all the stupid, ungrateful, wretched, mean things he had done. He was more than bored with that conversation.

As was his father's custom, the front door was unlocked, and Jeremy walked down a short corridor until he met Dana, who was standing near the entrance to the kitchen. "Jeremy! It's so good to see you. I hope you're not here to tell me that you just murdered your mother."

Jeremy thought that was funny. "I thought you had that one covered, Dad."

"Well, at one point, it did cross my mind, but I've moved on to better things."

Dana offered him a beer, but Jeremy wasn't in the mood, and they walked into a large, graciously furnished room. Across from Jeremy, standing near a window, was Melissa Avery, an attractive, successful woman who had entered Dana's life about six months after he had been released from prison. Jeremy had only talked to her once before, and he wondered what she really thought of him. He hoped it wasn't too dreadful--after Selena's diatribe, he wasn't in the mood for another one.

"You've met Melissa, haven't you?" said Dana.

"Sure we have," said Melissa. "You look much better in normal clothes, Jeremy, but what's with the sunglasses?"

"It's just one of my current romances."

"You must be an artist," said Melissa.

Jeremy took the sunglasses off and put them in his pocket. "Sometimes," he said to Melissa, "I need to space out and forget about everything--it's very relaxing."

"The Breens are the strangest family I've ever met," said Melissa, in a friendly tone. "Everyone in the world is abnormal in some way, but the four of you are _really_ abnormal. Jeremy, you should have heard them at work when I told them I was marrying a guy who had knifed his last wife to death."

"Did you throw in the part about what I had done?" said Jeremy.

"No, I saved that for later. God, people are just so judgmental."

"It's because they take themselves too seriously," said Jeremy.

"That's for sure!" said Melissa. "Nowadays, people are stretched so tight that they're always on the verge of snapping. You should see my dimwit boss on Monday morning--if you drop a paper clip, he's ready to write you up for insubordination."

"And rightfully so!" said Dana with a laugh and a wink. Turning towards Jeremy, he said, "Now that you're out in the free world, you're probably going to run into some headwind."

"I already have--I won't even try to repeat what Selena said to me. It'll wreck our evening."

"I know that it's an old saying," said Melissa, "but my philosophy is 'Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.'"

"You see why I like her?" said Dana to Jeremy.

"It's not a bad way to feel about life," said Jeremy, "but I've realized that it's important to escape consequences and that the best way to escape a consequence is to be careful not to do things that enrage people. It's way too troublesome."

"That's just common sense," said Melissa.

"I guess so," said Jeremy, "but when you're my age, common sense is a precious commodity."

"What do you say?" said Melissa. "Why don't we go outside and stroll around? It's a warm night, and I'm in the mood."

Dana walked over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and said, "It's drizzling again."

"So much the better," said Jeremy; "it'll wash away our sins."

"In that case, I'm all for it," said Dana. "And maybe, if we're lucky, we'll meet Selena as she's carousing around with one of her thousand boyfriends."

"If I spot her coming towards us, I'm ducking into an alley," said Jeremy. "She's harsh!"

"Don't worry," said Dana, "I'll always be there to protect you."

No, thought Jeremy--that was a transient sentiment, subject to death and circumstance. However, there was something that would always protect him, no matter what the circumstance: Nothing we experience has any significance, and we have absolutely no importance.
This is one of many books of mine that can be purchased on various web sites--currently, as of June 2020, there are 24 novels, 4 novellas, 9 anthologies, and 6 non-fiction books, so there is plenty to choose from!

I would like to emphasize that my novels are _very_ dissimilar from one another and have all sorts of different plots, themes, and attitudes. I've written a number of murder mysteries, four love stories, a gothic tale, a trial of a police officer for murder, a couple of unusual fantasies, a story about a homeless guy, a trial of a young guy who thinks that he's discovered the secret to life, a locked-room mystery, a book about a psychiatrist and a troubled woman, a tale about a student/teacher relationship, two satires, an unreliable narrator mystery, and three novels that are essentially political, sexual, and social commentaries.

