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Thursday, April 2, 2006 6:01 p.m.
Jordon grabbed the remote, aimed it at the kitchen TV, and pushed down on the power button.
The sound came on seconds before the picture.
“On Behalf of the People of the State of California, I ask that you find this malicious arsonist, guilty of the crime of first degree murder.”
The image on the TV set changed from inside the courtroom to a close-up of Reporter Tina Lyle.
“That was Santa Barbara County District Attorney Jordon Danner concluding her closing argument while pointing at the Defendant Alexandra West. Once completed, Danner sat down, but not before making sure her lead investigator, A.T.F. agent Jake Manchester, displayed their final slide. Projected on the seven foot screen was a picture of the victim, Ruth Gold. The photograph was taken on her last birthday. Prominently displayed on the cake were the numerals seven and two, along with the same number of blazing candles. The candles’ collective glow was dim in comparison with the smile on Miss Gold’s face.
“For several seconds after the screen went blank the courtroom remained still, with the exception of a few jurors who wiped away tears.
“Ruthie, as most people called her, was a much beloved first-grade teacher. After she retired, she became one of the city’s friendliest crossing guards. Her violent death devastated this community.
“The defendant, Alexandra West, is charged with setting fire to Miss Gold’s house. Courtroom observers have told this reporter that the evidence presented at trial was entirely circumstantial and what little proof existed was heavily disputed.
“The jury deliberated most of today. At 4:30 this afternoon the foreman sent a note to the judge indicating they had reached a verdict. Given the late hour, Judge Ames ordered everyone back to court tomorrow morning at 8:30.
“Of course, KEYT news will be there for the reading of the verdict and we’ll have a full report for you tomorrow on our five o’clock newscast.
“This is Tina Lyle, reporting live from the Santa Barbara Superior Courthouse, now back to you, Darcy, at our news center.”
“Thanks, Tina. In other news tonight…”
***
“Bullshit!” Jordon bellowed. “What little proof there was…?” Tina,” Jordon continued her one way dialogue with the kitchen TV, “there was plenty of proof!”
With each word spoken Jordon pounded harder on the raw chicken breast.
“And circumstantial evidence, Tina, is just as legally significant as direct evidence.” Jordon’s last hit nearly decimated her family’s fowl.
Where is my family anyhow? Jordon wasn’t expecting to see her three older sons tonight, but she thought at least her 16-year-old would be home. Sam, she now remembered, was at a play rehearsal and her husband Greg, she assumed, was still at work.
While stirring the boiling pot of pasta, Jordon thought about her husband and how rarely he seemed to be there for her these days or maybe, she considered, it was the other way around.
At 7:05, Jordon decided to eat dinner.
By 7:30, she’d already covered the remaining food.
Shortly after 8:00, while soaking in the bath, she listened as Greg arrived home. Moments later, she heard the sound of the microwave.
Eventually, Greg pushed on the mostly closed bathroom door. He walked in carrying a glass of wine in one hand and chicken picatta with shrimp-laced pasta in the other. Leaving the bathroom door mostly open, he put down his wine, lowered the toilet seat cover and sat down.
“So, how’d it go?” he asked, while appearing to search his pasta for the rare but coveted shrimp.
“Tina from Channel three said,” Jordon raised her voice two octaves, “what little proof existed was heavily disputed.”
“Sounds about right to me.” Greg answered. “But that’s why you’re so good; you take a little bit of disputed proof and you spin it into solid evidence-”
“I don’t spin anything!” Jordon interrupted him. “I just present the facts to the jury as clearly as I can.”
“Got it,” Greg said.
Jordon wasn’t sure if he was referring to a slippery shrimp, or her point. She thought Greg seemed oblivious to her intense reaction to both his choice of the word “spin”, as well as the reporter’s claim that Jordon only had “little proof.” Sadly, she had no desire to pursue either misrepresentation any further with Greg.
“The important thing is,” Greg continued, “this case from hell has finally ended, and since I heard on the radio you’ll have your verdict tomorrow morning, you’ll be done tomorrow afternoon. Then you’ll be ready to take off with our boys on a much deserved, and much needed, sail!” Greg didn’t wait for or seek Jordon’s response. Instead he downed his wine and stood back up. “So, I’m going into the living room to watch the end of the Lakers game – can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks,” she answered, “but please shut the bathroom door on your way out; it’s getting a little cold in here.”
Greg turned, flicked on the bathroom’s heater, and quietly closed the door.
Jordon didn’t question her love for Greg; still, she couldn’t help but notice she felt less lonely after he left.
Soon the room’s warmth returned, and with it, her overwhelming sense of guilt. Lying back in the tub, she closed her eyes and thought about Jake.
Friday, April 3, 2006 8:30 a.m.
“We the jury in the above entitled action…”
Jordon didn’t want to breathe; she was afraid she’d mishear the verdict.
“…hereby find…”
Why, Jordon wondered, did this part always take so long? She wanted to put her hand on Jake’s leg. She knew she finally had her excuse - they’d been in this together for nearly two years. Even if anyone saw her do it, she rationalized; they’d just think under the circumstances it made sense.
“…the defendant, Alexandra West…”
Jordon put her hand down; her fingertips barely reached over to the inside of his thigh.
Jake placed his hand over hers...
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