The Last Alibi

59

Shauna

The judge calls a midmorning recess. Jason heads straight to the anteroom where he’s able to confer with counsel. He doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge his brother, Pete, who seems eager for my attention.

“He’s. . he’s not in the frame of mind right now for you,” I apologize.

“That’s fine, whatever.” Pete’s tan has diminished since he’s been in town for the trial. He owns a bar in the Cayman Islands, of all things, having received a healthy windfall of money under circumstances that are unclear-and therefore suspicious-to me. Where Jason inherited his mother’s length and features, Pete is the spitting image of his father, Jack, a devilishly handsome face and a quick, easy smile, a guy who could charm a shark out of its chum. He inherited his father’s penchant for substance abuse, too, though with Pete it was cocaine, not booze, and he promises that’s way behind him now.

Pete was basically the fuckup of the family, the difference between Jason and him being athletic ability. Jason wasn’t going anywhere good before the varsity football coach discovered him, but his prowess on the gridiron got him a scholarship to State, and even after he pissed that away by fighting with a teammate, he was away from home, away from some of the temptations and bad influences that had set him astray, and he ultimately thrived. Pete lived in Jason’s shadow and got himself into plenty of trouble before, a couple years ago, Jason bailed him out of some serious problems and got him out of town with the previously referenced windfall of money, source unknown.

“I just don’t get this, Shauna,” says Pete. “We’re getting crucified. Is it-is it too late for self-defense? I mean, this woman looks like a psycho, right? The idea that she came after him with a knife or even his own gun? I’d believe it in a heartbeat.”

“She was shot in the back, Pete, and she was unarmed,” I say, realizing I’ve made a misstep by joining the debate. It’s not that I don’t appreciate his point. I do.

Roger Ogren does, too. In fact, after discovering these e-mails, Roger expected us to plead self-defense. Whenever we’d talk to discuss details, he’d find a way to casually raise the point. So we’re still looking at a December trial? he’d ask. No continuances or affirmative defenses or anything like that? He didn’t think we’d stick to the speedy trial. He thought we’d come out with self-defense sooner or later. The fact that he was so worried about that defense, despite the fact that Alexa Himmel was shot in the back, from ten feet away, and unarmed, showed the power of those e-mails, not to mention the phone calls, which the jury hasn’t heard about yet.

It was the interview, wasn’t it? Roger asked me last week, when he finally confessed that he’d been expecting the self-defense argument all along. He brought up that Jim guy in the interview and lied about how things were going with Alexa. Hard to walk that back to “She came at me with my own gun and I had no choice.”

“Pete, you know I can’t talk to you about the case,” I say. “What’s done is done. This is what Jason wants. We’re going to have to trust him.”

Pete knows all of this. We’ve been over it time and time again. He’s come into town on and off since Jason was arrested, but he’s been clearly instructed about not discussing the case with Jason. Jason, for his part, has been very protective of his little brother, demanding that he go back to the Caymans (Pete refused) and rarely speaking to him at all.

“Tell him. . you know. .” Pete’s voice trails off.

“I’ll tell him you love him.” I put a hand on his shoulder. Then I head into the anteroom to see my client.