Ellie slid a hidden glance toward the man sitting in the defendant’s seat at the table to her left. The sixty-four-year-old man kept his spine straight, and his chin held high. His salt-and-pepper hair sheared so close to his scalp, the look almost that of a hardened soldier.
Only this man wasn’t a soldier. He was a monster. One Ellie prayed would never walk the streets a free man again.
I have to stop him.
“Miss Fisher?” Judge Watkins’ voice pulled Ellie away from her thoughts.
Damn it, El. Get your head in the game.
Snapping herself out of the untimely trance, she quickly offered the intelligent woman a flash of a smile. “My apologies, Your Honor.” Ellie turned back to the jury. “Good afternoon.” She released an exaggerated sigh. “Wow. We finally made it. I bet most of you are so relieved to be at this stage of the trial.”
Several nodded with their own personalized versions of ayou ain’t kiddingexpression.
“Believe me, I know exactly how you feel.” Ellie gave a soft chuckle. “It’s been a long, hard road for us all, which is why I’dlike to take a moment to thank you. For your presence during this trial, the dedication to the civic duty in which you were called to serve, for your concentration and impressive listening skills during the hours and hours…and hours of testimony you’ve heard…” She paused briefly as a few soft laughs filled the otherwise quiet room. “I’d also like to thank you for your patience in allowing me to present the State’s case with the attention it deserved. But really, it isn’t the case itself that deserves your dedication to the truth. It’s them.”
She pointed to the easel positioned in front of the empty witness stand. Angled to face the jury more than the gallery—where the public sat during the proceedings—the large white posterboard displayed four eight-by-ten pictures.
Four young, smiling women who had their whole life ahead of them. Four victims who’d been brutally murdered by the man Ellie had been charged with putting behind bars.
“As jurors,” she continued, “part of your obligation is to consider whether there is another way to look at this case. To ask yourself, could someone else have killed these four women? Could someone other than the defendant be responsible for the insurmountable loss the victims’ families have had no choice but to face?”
She gave a perfectly timed, dramatic pause, letting the men and women before her really think about that for a moment. When she spoke again, Ellie took the speech in a more personal direction.
“My father used to say anything was possible.” She grinned, allowing the jurors a moment to see her as someone’s daughter rather than simply a ruthless prosecutor out for the defendant’s blood. “But then I got older. And with age came wisdom. A wisdom I’m confident you and I share. You see, I realized some thingsaren’tpossible, and no matter how much we would like tobelieve the contrary…no matter how hard opposing counsel has tried convincing you that his client is innocent of heinous act of murder…as adults, you and I understand that simply wishing for something doesn’t make it so.”
Someone in the gallery coughed, and Ellie used the distraction to pull in a cleansing breath in preparation for stage two of the speech she knew by heart.
“No one else’s DNA was found on the murder weapon police recovered near the final victim’s place of death,” she continued. “Only George Ray Harvey’s. And by defense’s own admission, Mr. Harvey has no alibi. Not for the night of the first murder. Or the second. Or the third…” Another pause. “In fact, Mr. Harvey has no alibi foranyof the nights in question. No witnesses to place him somewhere other than the murder scenes. No receipts from a gas station or grocery store or fast-food restaurant to prove his innocence. In fact, even the defendant’s own son couldn’t swear under oath that his father was at home the nights those four innocent women were slain. All we have to go on is Mr. Harvey’s word. And remember, ladies and gentlemen… his word is his only defense. His sworn statement that he was home. In bed. Alone.”
The peel of a phone ringing echoed off the courtroom walls, but the upbeat song was abruptly silenced as the owner presumably rushed to turn it off. Clearing her throat, Ellie kept going as if that phone had never rung.
“You’ve heard from the experts on both sides of this case. We’ve all heard and seen the numbers and percentages. You’ve been shown several colorful graphs and listened to hours upon hours of very detailed, very scientific testimony. Now, I don’t know about you, but my brain tends to go kind of numb when I’m faced with a jumble of numbers and graphs. Of course, math never really was my strong suit, so…”
As expected, several jurors chuckled in agreement. Most people hated math, hence the comment.
“But even I could make sense of the testimony given by the experts in this case,” she shared. “Even I can understand that the probability of someone other than George Ray Harvey being the killer is virtually zero. Which can only mean one thing.” With a sad smile lifting one corner of her mouth, Ellie met the eyes of the twelve men and women staring back at her. “My father was wrong.” She waited for the newest round of snickers and chuckles to dissipate before continuing. “Some things simply aren’t possible, and this trial…and the evidence presented here…proves it.”
Her heels clicked again as she began a slow, purposeful pace along the wooden wall dividing the well from the jury box. This next part was the most important. This was where she had to nail down the jury’s convictions. If she didn’t—
Stay. Focused.
“George Ray Harvey is a cold-blooded, calculating killer who viciously stole the lives of those four women.” She pointed back to the easel and began listing off the victim’s names. “Julie Fontaine. Amy Moore. Katherine Hodgins. Stacy Russo.” Her eyes found the jury once more. “All four of those young women’s families are here today. They’re here in hopes of finding the only semblance of peace they have left. But that peace can’t come from me.” She shook her head and motioned toward the twelve men and women facing her. “It has to come from you.”
Please, God. Please at least let this jury give those poor families some closure.
“Your job as jurors is to determine the guilt or innocence of the accused,” Ellie went on. “To determine whether there is even the slightest bit of reasonable doubt present in this case. You’re here because it is up toyouto decide if the police caught the realkiller or if they arrested the wrong man. Well you can rest easy, ladies and gentlemen. Because your job has already been done for you.”
She filled her lungs again, refusing to let a single person in the courtroom see just how scared she really was. Ellie wasn’t afraid of the defendant—although the murderous bastard had done his damnedest to ensure otherwise. No, she was terrified he’d be set free.
“Over and over again, we’ve proven to you that the police did, in fact, arrest the right man,” Ellie reminded the jury. “You’ve been shown mounds of irrefutable evidence pointing only to the defendant. No one else. Why? Because, ladies and gentlemen.Heis your killer.”
She glanced out into the sea of onlookers. The gallery was filled with victim’s families and friends. Several from the general public who’d stood in line for hours in order to secure a seat inside the most infamous trial to hit Seattle in decades. And filling the space behind them was a trove of reporters with their tripods, cameras, tablets, and notebooks.
They’d all gathered together to witness both sides making their final pleas. But it was those closest to the victims that left Ellie’s chest tight and her heart aching.
“George Ray Harvey brutally tortured those four young women. Women with families and friends.” She pointed back to the family members present as she repeated the victim’s names. “Julie Fontaine. Amy Moore. Katherine Hodgins. Stacy Russo. They weren’t nameless, faceless victims. They were daughters. Granddaughters. Sisters and nieces.” A brief but effective pause. “And now they’re dead because of one man…George Ray Harvey.”
Ellie forced herself to look back at the defendant. An eerie chill raced down her spine, and the tiny hairs on the back ofEllie’s neck stood on end when she found his cold gray eyes staring straight back into hers.