When We Were Bright and Beautiful(68)

Lies, lies, lies.

“In the next three weeks, the State will describe how the defendant and Diana Holly met sixteen months ago in a medical lab. The defendant was instantly captivated. He asked her out, several times. Finally, she agreed. The defendant’s lawyers will try to convince you that he and Diana had a consensual love affair that went on for many months. This is categorically untrue. Within three months, Diana felt the need to separate. By December, she wanted O-U-T. We will prove that the defendant’s kind and well-mannered behavior masked a tormented, unstable interior. He was erratic. Moody. Prone to explosive tantrums. In his presence, Diana started to feel unsafe, then petrified.”

Petrified? Of Billy? The kid with the stutter clinging to a Muppet? Nate must be thinking the same thing because he looks at me and rolls his eyes.

“Diana told the defendant she wanted to break up. She told him not to contact her. But the defendant didn’t like hearing this. On the contrary, instead of respecting her wishes, he ignored her requests, and waged a campaign to change her mind. He sent emails and texts. He called and called. He snuck into her room when she was in class and pretended to be asleep in her bed when she returned. Diana didn’t know what to do. She believed the defendant was vulnerable, possibly mentally ill. She feared that if she reported his behavior, he would be asked to leave Princeton. She knew he’d wanted to practice medicine since childhood. So, instead of protecting herself, she continued to protect him. She said nothing to anyone and lived in constant fear. Meanwhile, the defendant’s rage continued to escalate until March 24, when it erupted in a burst of depraved violence.”

When Anderson stops, I assume he’s finished. But he ambles over to the defense table and positions himself directly in front of Billy. As he speaks, his voice deepens and his chest expands, like he’s filling the courtroom with the heft of his body.

“Let’s return for a moment to the defendant’s emotional issues. What were they, exactly? Why did they have such a claim on his mental health and well-being?”

Anderson rests his hands on the table. Leaning forward, he looks at Billy expectantly, as if waiting for my brother to answer. He stands, unmoving, for an uncomfortable length of time. I start to feel twitchy. I suspect Billy does too because he keeps his head bowed.

Finally, Anderson speaks. “I’m no psychiatrist. However, it’s a documented fact that when a child is raised with too much money and too few boundaries, he grows up unwilling to accept ‘no.’ He throws tantrums. Exhibits antisocial behavior. At the same time, he feels worthless. This, too, is a documented fact. Children who are given too many beautiful things without earning them—money, toys, cars—lack a sense of accomplishment. They are absent a core self. The kind of self that well-adjusted people nurture with loving relationships and trusted friends. They carry shame about their families and about themselves.”

Anderson is describing every wealthy kid—every wealthy person—who’s ever lived. By his accounting, every single one could be a rapist. But then he says something that stops me cold.

“The State will show that Billy Quinn is hiding a secret. A secret he has harbored since childhood. This secret festered inside him for years. It made him isolated, self-destructive, and, as you will soon hear, extremely dangerous.”

I jerk my head up. What secret? I glance at Lawrence, but he’s bent over a notepad, scribbling like a madman.

“Because of this secret, the defendant has a fraught relationship with his family. He has no long-term relationships. He graduated from high school having experienced little intimacy with girls, despite his good looks and athletic success. Diana Holly was the first female he ever shared his secret with, except perhaps his sister.”

When Anderson pauses, everyone looks at me. He waits. I try to swallow but can’t.

“Diana was troubled by the defendant’s secret, but he made her swear never to repeat it. Or else, he said. Although Diana agreed, she also encouraged him to get help. When the defendant refused, she broke up with him, at which point he became frantic. He feared that if Diana revealed his secret, the fabric of his life would rip open. Would she protect him? Would she expose him? The defendant couldn’t risk it. Everything—his education, his future, his parents, his brother, his sister—depended on her silence. Soon, his fear turned into rage. He hunted her down, day after day. Begged her to stay with him. No, she replied. No. Leave me alone.”

I can’t believe the jury is buying this. But from the way they lean forward and their eyes track Anderson’s movements, it’s obvious they are, every single one.

The DA continues to talk, establishing the ways that Billy terrorized Diana, and which evidence the State will present to prove them all. A half-hour later, Anderson still hasn’t identified Billy’s secret.

“And then one fateful night,” he continues, “March 24, the defendant’s shame and fear overwhelmed him. On this night, Diana Holly invited the defendant to a party for a single reason. To tell him to stop harassing her and insist he get help, for his own sake. She believed it was a safe meeting place because people were around to protect her, including her best friend. Unfortunately, her plan was thwarted. When Diana talked to the defendant, he got angry. She pleaded with him, but to no avail. Thirty minutes later, she left. But the defendant followed her. And in a depraved act of rage, privilege, power, and violence, the defendant brutalized Diana Holly. He brutalized her while she was unconscious. When she couldn’t say no or defend herself. On this night, the defendant destroyed Diana Holly’s life. And for what?”