From the Desk of Zoe Washington(25)

It was my school photo—it reminded me of Lucy Hernandez’s picture from the article. I hadn’t looked her up before, but now I wanted to know more about her.

I opened my computer again and searched for her name. I skimmed the results, and they were all articles about how Lucy had died. It was awful; when you looked up a person, you were supposed to see stories about their life, not their terrible death.

Then I found a memorial page for her. It was a really simple website, with a few photos of her on top. In one, she wore a cheerleading uniform, and another showed her with a bunch of other cheerleaders on a football field. Below the photos was an area where her friends and family could post messages. Some of them were in Spanish. As I read through them, my eyes filled with tears. People loved her a whole lot, and she seemed like a really nice person. I thought about how I’d feel if anything happened to Jasmine or Maya, or Trevor, and my throat clenched up. Lucy didn’t deserve to die.

If Marcus was guilty, why did he do it?

I hoped with every inch of my heart that Marcus wasn’t responsible, that this was all a big mistake.

When I handed Grandma my letter to mail the next day, it hit me: she was around when Marcus was arrested, and when he had his trial. Maybe she knew stuff about the case that I couldn’t find online. Like why none of the articles mentioned his alibi or a witness.

“Grandma, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she said.

I took a deep breath. “In his last letter, when Marcus told me he’s innocent, were you surprised?” I knew she’d read it before she gave it to me.

“Well, he told me he was going to tell you that.”

“He did?”

“Yes,” Grandma said. “I know I’m going behind your parents’ back to let you write to him, but I still want to keep you safe. I wrote to him and asked him to call me so we could talk about him writing to you.”

“You talked to him on the phone?” I was dying to know what Marcus’s voice sounded like.

Grandma nodded. “It was a quick phone call. He couldn’t stay on long. But it was long enough for me to make sure that he isn’t trying to hurt you in any way.”

“Oh.”

After a few moments of silence, Grandma asked, “Is there something else you want to know?”

“Oh, yeah. Hold on.” I ran to my room to grab my journal. When I got back to the living room, I sat next to Grandma on the couch. I opened to all the notes I’d taken about Marcus’s case and the Innocence Project.

“Marcus told me he had an alibi,” I said. “But I couldn’t find anything online about it. Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“He told me the same thing after he was arrested,” Grandma said. “Here. Let me grab a cup of tea, and then I’ll tell you what I know.”





Chapter Seventeen


“After Marcus was arrested,” Grandma began once she was back and settled on the couch with a mug of green ginger tea, “I visited him at the prison a couple of times before he went on trial. Your mom didn’t want to see him, but I had to. I had to look him in the eyes and hear what happened in his own words. That’s when he told me about his alibi.”

“What was it?” I asked.

“He was at a tag sale,” Grandma said.

“For real? Like at somebody’s house?”

Grandma nodded. “He said he saw some ad online and emailed the lady before going over there.”

“Why wasn’t she part of the trial?” I asked. “None of the articles I found talked about her.”

“Marcus’s lawyer never brought her to court.”

I scrunched my eyebrows. “Why not?”

“The lawyer never even looked for her.” Grandma sipped her tea.

In the letter, Marcus only said his lawyer couldn’t prove his innocence, not that he never looked for the alibi witness. It didn’t make any sense. “Why not? She could’ve told everyone that Marcus was somewhere else when the crime took place.”

“Exactly,” Grandma said. “She could’ve really helped Marcus’s case. But, you know, he didn’t have the money to pay for a big-shot lawyer after he was arrested. He had to use the defense lawyer assigned to him for free. And this lawyer . . .” She shook her head. “To me, it was like he didn’t care one bit about what happened to Marcus.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Didn’t he want to win the case?”

Grandma exhaled. “He got paid either way, so I’m not sure it mattered. He seemed completely biased against Marcus. He wanted him to plead guilty, and take a deal, but Marcus refused.”

“What do you mean by ‘biased’?” I asked.

“I think he saw a Black man being charged with murder, and saw no reason to believe he was actually innocent,” Grandma explained. “He went through the motions of defending him in court without putting in any real work.”

“That’s terrible!” I huffed.

Grandma nodded.

I thought of my email to Mr. Miller, and wondered what he’d say when he replied. If he replied at all.

“Do you think Marcus is really innocent?” I asked.

Grandma put her mug down on the coffee table. “Yes. I do.”