Trial Junkies

— 12 -

As the last of his sweat finally dried up and he went through the courthouse security scanner, Hutch kept thinking about that night and the few days that followed.

Waverly had explained that even if she could get in to see Ronnie, attorney-client privilege would prevent her from telling them anything, so they might as well go home. She had Hutch's cell phone number and would have her office contact him about any financial arrangements. And if Ronnie authorized it, Waverly could discuss the case with him after that.

When they all got outside, Matt had immediately spun on Nadine, saying, "What the hell was that all about? You think Ronnie did this?"

"It was just a question," she said. "Don't get your panties in a wad."

But Matt clearly wasn't happy with this response and the next thing Hutch knew there was a full scale argument going, right there on the station house steps, the group split down the middle over the question of guilt or innocence.

Monica sided with Nadine and Tom, while Matt and Andy were both outraged that they could even think one of their friends was a stone cold killer.

"Jenny and Ronnie may have had their problems," Matt said, "but Ronnie would never hurt anyone. It just isn't in her nature."

When Nadine reminded them about the incident with Ronnie's mom, they had reacted with the same skepticism Hutch had shown earlier. An accident, nothing more.

Matt turned to Hutch. "So where do you come down on this? Are you falling for this bullshit?"

Hutch, now firmly on the fence, wasn't sure how to answer him. He wanted to believe in his friend, but the truth was, he hadn't seen her in ten years. A lot could happen to a person in that amount of time.

He was certainly a testament to that.

Much to Matt's disgust, Hutch had remained noncommittal. And in the days just prior to arraignment, the police department and prosecutor's office started privately leaking information while publicly denying it.

"A little bit of pre-trial jury persuasion," Waverly had called it.

And it was persuasive.

Hairs found at the crime scene. A black INCUBUS sweatshirt with Jenny's blood on it found in Ronnie's trash. A flurry of phone calls from Ronnie to Jenny just prior to the murder.

If you wanted to taint a jury, this was just the kind of evidence to do it with. And while it might seem like a stretch that Ronnie would be stupid enough to leave incriminating evidence in her own trash, Hutch thought she was just scattered and impulsive enough to do exactly that. People do the damnedest things in the face of panic.

By the time of the arraignment, he was no longer on the fence. The evidence against her was simply too overwhelming, and he was now convinced that Nadine and Tom and Monica had indeed been right. That, as painful as it might be to admit, Ronnie really had done this.

She had stabbed Jenny to death.

Brutally.

Without mercy.

He didn't want to believe that his friend was a killer-the mere thought of it filled him with remorse-but what choice did he really have? What was the point in refusing to see the truth, as heartbreaking as it might be?

And as this realization set in, as he accepted that truth, Hutch once again felt rage growing inside him.

Three days later, he had sat in the arraignment, staring heatedly at the back of Ronnie's head, wanting more than anything to press the barrel of a gun against it and pull the trigger. The thought that he had shown this woman sympathy, had actually stood there chatting with her the night Jenny's funeral-had even found himself attracted to her-made him sick to his stomach.

He had immediately withdrawn his financial support, and had expected Waverly's firm to drop the case. But with the growing publicity, they must have smelled opportunity, and continued representing Ronnie pro bono.

Hutch had gone back to his life in L.A., only to see the pilot he'd shot shit-canned by the network. He did a couple of minor guest shots on CSI and Criminal Minds, auditioned for a three-episode arc on The Mentalist that never materialized, and spent the rest of the time waiting.

Waiting for this day to come.

So now here he was, nodding thanks to the security screeners and working his way down the crowded hallway to courtroom 128, where jury selection was about to begin.

State vs. Veronica Baldacci.

Murder One.

The bitch should be roasted alive for what she's done.

The moment Hutch saw her sitting at the defense table, all dolled up for the proceedings, he thought of Jenny and how much he had loved her.

And he once again wanted blood.