First to Die

Chapter 93

FOUR HOURS LATER, in District Criminal Court, I felt well enough to watch Nicholas Jenks be arraigned for murder. A buzzing crowd filled the halls outside the courtroom of Judge Stephen Bowen. Photographers flashed cameras blindly, reporters surged for a glimpse of the sullen, shaken best selling writer. Raleigh and I squeezed through, took a seat behind Jill in the front row. My strength having returned, the riot in my chest subsided. I wanted Jenks to see me there. I saw Cindy, sitting in the press section. And in the back of the courtroom, I spotted Chancellor Weil and his wife. It was over before it began. Jenks was led in, his eyes as dead and hollow as craters on the moon. The clerk read the docket, the suspect rose. The bastard pleaded Not Guilty. What were they going to argue, that all the evidence was inadmissible? Leff, the consummate showman, was unusually respectful, even demure before Judge Bowen. He made a pleading case for release on recognizance based on Jenks's stature in the community. For a moment, the killer's accomplishments almost even swayed me. Jill fought him head-on. She graphically detailed the savagery of the murders. She argued that the suspect had the means and the lack of roots to flee. I felt a surge of triumph rippling through me when the judge struck his gavel and intoned, "Bail denied."