It was late Friday afternoon when twelve jurors had been selected, and four alternate jurors had been chosen, in case one of the regular jurors could not serve and had to be replaced. Of the twelve regular jurors, eight were men and four were women. Alexa didn’t mind that. She thought that men might be more protective of young women, more outraged by the crimes and more sympathetic, and angrier at Luke Quentin. She was counting on it. Four of them were old enough to have daughters that age, two were slightly younger than she wanted and would be hard to predict, but she had used up her challenges by the time they were selected. All were employed and seemed respectable and intelligent. Of the four women, all were older. Judy had objected to young women on the jury. But the four alternate jurors were mostly young women in their thirties. All races were represented, white, Hispanic, Asian, and African-American. Looking at them, Alexa was convinced they were a good jury and had worked hard to pick them, and get around some of Judy’s objections. Judy wanted men on the jury, because she thought they would be more sympathetic to Luke. Alexa didn’t agree, but in the end, they both liked the makeup of the jury. There were always loose cannons, and unpredictable surprises, but from what she could tell, with the knowledge they had of them, Alexa thought this jury was a good one. They would know after the trial.

Once the jurors were dismissed for the day, Quentin was handcuffed and then shackled, and led out of the courtroom by four deputies. He looked confident and relaxed, and stopped to glance at Alexa on the way out. Her face was expressionless, and his was slightly mocking, and then he moved on.

They had done good work that week, and Sam and Jack were pleased too. They took a minute to talk before they left the courtroom. Sam was always impressed by her precision and good judgment and had said as much to his superiors. The proof would be in the trial, of course, but he was extremely pleased by how she handled every detail. And so was Joe McCarthy, who had slipped into the courtroom several times that week to watch the jury selection process. He had added his approval to her choices, and thought she had wisely avoided some bad ones.

“Well, we’ve got our jury of twelve peers for Mr. Quentin,” Alexa said to Jack and Sam, as she put her papers and legal pads back in her briefcase. It was so heavy now that she had to pull it on wheels.

“Ready for your close-up, Ms. Hamilton?” Sam teased her as they left the courtroom. It was no surprise they were met by a wall of press who wanted to know what she thought about the jury. What felt like a million lights went off in her face.

“We’re satisfied with the jury” was all she would say as she pushed through them without further comment or expression. Jack tried to lead the way, and Sam stayed close to her with several policemen, but the heat was on her and she took it well. There was a van waiting for them outside so they could make their getaway. Alexa had a cop with her all the time now, and she had to go back to her office before wrapping up for the weekend. Jack said he’d go with her, and they dropped Sam off at the FBI office, and wished each other a good weekend. And he said he’d be available on his cell phone all weekend, they all would. Alexa had thought briefly about flying down to Charleston to see Savannah, but she knew she couldn’t. She had too much material to go over and her opening statement to polish some more.

She was just walking into her office when her cell phone rang. It was Savannah.

“I just saw you on TV,” she said proudly, “leaving the courthouse. You were great.” Alexa laughed.

“That’s rank prejudice. All I said was ‘We’re satisfied with the jury,’ and no further comment. I don’t see how you could think I was great, but thank you.” It touched her that Savannah was following it so closely.

“Daisy and Dad thought so too,” she confirmed. It had been a consensus. Luisa was out playing bridge. “You looked calm and collected, and you didn’t let them push you around. You just said what you wanted to and kept going and you didn’t let them make you nervous. At least you didn’t look it. And your hair looked good.” She had worn it in a ponytail with a satin ribbon, instead of a bun, all week. It seemed less uptight.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Well, we’ll see what happens next week. I think they’re a pretty good jury. I hope I’m right. I was thinking I might come down this weekend, but I just can’t,” she said, sounding disappointed, but Savannah wasn’t surprised.

“I didn’t expect you to, Mom. Things must be crazy for you right now.”

“Pretty much,” she admitted. “What do you have planned for the weekend?”

“I’m going to one of Turner’s games tomorrow, and he’s coming over tonight to hang out.” There was an old playroom in the basement that her brothers had used when they were young. There was a Ping Pong table and a pool table, and her father had suggested they could visit there. Luisa never went down to the basement, and it seemed more respectable than having Turner in her room.

“Say hi to him for me,” Alexa said, and then got back to work at her desk. Sam Lawrence called her a little while later.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked respectfully. It was Friday night by then.

“Not at all. I’m still at work,” she said in a pleasant tone. He was a nice man, and working with him had gone well so far. They had a great deal of mutual respect, and he and Jack had become friends in the past months.

“Sounds like we keep the same kind of hours. I’m going to move into my office pretty soon,” he laughed. But they were all going to work night and day during the trial. Judy Dunning was too, and even more so, since she had less support, and she didn’t have the FBI helping her. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m really happy with the jury, and I thought you handled the selection process very well. You’re a real pro,” he complimented her, which was high praise coming from him. FBI agents rarely approved of anyone except FBI.

“I hope so, with a case like this.” She smiled.

“Let me know if I can do anything to help over the weekend.”

“Thanks, I’ll be fine,” she assured him. And with Savannah away, she had no distractions and no obligations other than her work.

She spent the rest of the weekend working at home, going through boxes of forensic reports and evidence, working on her opening statement, and organizing the prosecution down to the last detail. By Monday morning, she felt fully prepared.

On Monday morning, they met in Sam’s office and went to the courthouse together. The press were waiting, and it was a pushing, shoving, shouting match to get through them, and Alexa made her way through the crowd, looking calm, with five cops and Jack and Sam to help. She didn’t have a hair out of place when she got into the courtroom and sat down at the prosecution table, looking unruffled. She seemed businesslike, competent, and totally in control.

Judy Dunning was already at the defense table. Luke Quentin came in with four deputies, and sat down next to her. And five minutes later the judge walked to the bench and sat down. Court was convened. Without pause, he instructed the jury as to what was expected of them. He spoke in simple, clear terms about the process, and thanked them for giving up their time to be there. He said they had a very important job, perhaps the most important job in the courtroom, more than his as judge, or the attorneys. And they nodded and looked at him seriously as they listened.

And then Alexa rose to give her opening statement. She had been preparing it for a month. She was wearing a serious black suit and heels. She introduced herself to the jury and explained what her role was, as prosecutor. She explained that the man sitting next to her at counsel’s table, Jack Jones, was the chief investigating detective on the case, and she spoke about him for a minute. She then mentioned Sam Lawrence and explained that he was the chief senior representative of the FBI on the case. That was their team.

“And why do we have the FBI here?” she asked quietly, walking in front of them, and looking each one in the eye. “Because these crimes were committed in many states. Nine states. Eighteen young women were killed in nine states.” She didn’t overemphasize it but said it perfectly, as though to engrave the numbers in their minds. “And when state lines are crossed, when a defendant goes from one state to another to commit crimes, then the FBI gets involved, to coordinate information, so there is no mistake or confusion between local law enforcement agencies. All that information is pooled so that what we submit to you, ladies and gentlemen, is correct. Having the FBI here means it’s an important case. And it is an important case. Not because the FBI is here, but because eighteen young women died. They were violently attacked and killed. Brutally raped, strangled during sex, and killed. Eighteen of them. The youngest one was eighteen, and the oldest twenty-five, a medical student. The eighteen-year-old was a theology major.” She wanted to stress their respectability to the jury and did so effectively. All eyes in the courtroom were riveted to her, as she spoke calmly and with enormous dignity and strength. She had talent at what she did, as Jack and Sam and everyone in the courtroom observed her.

“Their murderer didn’t happen on them, he didn’t just run into them and rape them and kill them by accident, which would have been terrible too. He planned it. He sought them out. We believe he looked for them and observed them, and chose them, and did exactly what he planned to do, with malicious intent. He planned to rape them and kill them, because that’s what turned him on. He killed them because that was his ultimate pleasure. The defendant in this case likes ‘snuff’ films, where women are killed during sex. He wanted to live out that fantasy and went out of his way to do it, killing eighteen young women for thrills. Murder in the first degree is when you plan to kill someone, you intend to kill them, and you do. It’s not an accident, it’s planned, ‘with malice aforethought.’ You know what that means. These young women were violently raped and murdered. It was a plan. And the plan was carried out. And now they’re dead.

“I know some of you have children. I asked you that question when we selected you as jurors. But even if you don’t have children, I know you must be shocked by these crimes. We all are.

“I have a daughter, she’s seventeen. I think she’s beautiful, and she means everything to me. Everything. She’s a senior in high school, and she’s going to college in the fall.” She didn’t say Princeton so as not to appear elitist. “She plays volleyball and is on the swim team, and I think she’s the sweetest kid in the world. I’m a single mom, and she’s an only child, so she’s all I have.” She paused, and looked at each one closely. She had just become human to them. She was a single mom with a child, and they could trust her. She wanted them to know that. Some nodded understandingly as she spoke. She had them now.

“Six of these eighteen girls were only children. Seven of them had single moms. Nine of them were students and had jobs to support their education and help their families. Two were oldest children whose moms had died, and they took care of their siblings. Four were outstanding students. Eight had scholarships or had had them. Eleven of them were religious and active in their churches. Five of them were engaged. They played sports, they had siblings and moms and dads, and dogs, and teachers who knew and loved them, and boyfriends and friends. All of them were respected and loved in their communities, and are greatly missed. And all of them were killed by the defendant sitting in front of you. All of them. Eighteen girls. We believe that’s the truth. The State believes it, eight other states believe it, the FBI believes it, and I think that when you hear the evidence in this case, you will believe it too.

“It takes a special kind of person to commit crimes like this, to be so without conscience, so unfeeling as to kill eighteen young women, while raping them, because that’s what turns you on, and you planned it. That’s a terrible way to die, and a terrible reason.

“The State believes beyond any doubt, and will prove to you, that Luke Quentin, the man at the defense table in this courtroom, raped and killed these eighteen young women, with malicious intent.

“We can’t allow people who behave this way to walk among us, to hurt our children, to kill people we love. People who commit crimes like this need to be put in prison and punished for those crimes. If not, none of our children or loved ones are safe, and we aren’t either.