Juror #3(30)

Suzanne was puffing on a Marlboro Gold. “Y’all haven’t been properly introduced. Stanley, this is Ruby Bozarth. She’s a friend of mine. My protégé, you might say.”

I slid into a chair at Suzanne’s right. “Mr. Forsythe and I met over the phone last week. I wanted to get together with him, but he was too busy.”

“Well, he’s got some free time now. All righty, Stan—let’s see those Mardi Gras pictures.”

Stanley Forsythe had a laptop computer in front of him. His hand made a damp print on the black surface. “I don’t know about this, Suzanne. The DA said that my images are state’s evidence.”

I was wild to see the pictures he had withheld from me. I popped a piece of Nicorette and said, “Mr. Forsythe, if it’s regarded as state’s evidence, then I’m legally entitled to inspect it. Judge Baylor signed an order saying so.”

He wiped his sweaty hands on the legs of his pants. “Maybe I should ask Lafayette first.”

Suzanne flicked an ash. “Open the damn computer and pull up those shots. You’re acting like a kid stealing candy at the Piggly Wiggly.”

“I don’t know, Suzanne. It doesn’t feel right.”

She peered at him over her reading glasses. “Since when did you start doubting my legal judgment? You know, Stanley, you wouldn’t be in business today if I hadn’t won your divorce case three years back.”

That did the trick. He opened the laptop and pulled up the file containing the photographs he’d shot at the Mardi Gras ball. I left my chair and walked closer to look over his shoulder.

We surveyed the images on the screen one by one. Jewel Shaw appeared in many of the shots. The camera captured her at dinner with her parents, laughing with young people in party clothes, dancing to the band.

The time that the photos were taken appeared on the screen, as he had explained in his testimony. We studied pictures of Jewel taken later in the evening.

“Look there,” Suzanne said, tapping the screen. “Something’s wrong.”

I’d seen it, too. Jewel appeared in two pictures taken after eleven that night. Her party girl smile had disappeared. In the final image she looked angry, and her feathered mask didn’t hide the indignant scowl on her face.

“Jewel’s not having fun,” I said.

I leaned in to examine the final shot of Jewel. Her angry face was not the only one captured: other masked people were snapped, including a dark-haired man. He appeared to be trying to lean out of the shot. I pointed at his figure on the screen.

“This guy doesn’t like having his picture taken.”

His masked face was turned away from the camera, but a red mark showed up outside the black mask’s coverage.

My heart rattled in my chest. “Mr. Forsythe, can you enlarge the image on the screen?”

He tapped at the computer. Jewel’s scowl was life-size on the screen, and I could see that the red mark on the black-haired man was a birthmark. A port-wine stain birthmark.





Chapter 26



IT WAS A gamble.

Back in court the next morning, I heard the courthouse clock strike nine. Judge Baylor was seated at his bench. I stood beside my counsel table with my back to the jury. I couldn’t face them, not yet. What if I couldn’t keep a poker face?

Looking down at Darrien, I raised my brow. We had spent the past hour in the holding cell, conferring in whispers.

He glanced at the jury box behind me, then met my eye. He nodded twice, a bare movement of his head.

Time to roll the dice. In reality, I was a stranger to games of chance. But Suzanne, a regular patron of the casinos in Tunica, Mississippi, had given me the counsel of a seasoned player: go all in.

My dallying apparently made the judge impatient. “Miss Bozarth, is the defense ready to proceed or not?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” I cut a glance at Lafayette. He held a notebook; on its cover, in bold black ink, he’d written: Character Evidence Cross-Examination. Apparently, the DA had seen our witnesses lined up in the hall outside the courtroom.

I had been nauseated all morning and had even tried to vomit before I left my office. But when I saw the DA’s pad, a tiny thrill of pleasure shot through me. Lafayette was in for a surprise.

When the judge invited me to make my opening statement, I hesitated. I had no intention of revealing our evidence before it unfolded. So I marched to the jury box and launched into an oratory on the legal presumption of innocence.

Lafayette jumped up. “Objection, Your Honor; this is argument.”

“Sustained. Miss Bozarth, confine your statements to the evidence.”

Unruffled, I nodded at the jury and walked back to the counsel table. “Your Honor, the defense calls Stanley Forsythe to the witness stand.”

The photographer walked into the courtroom. He paused before the bench. The judge said, “Mr. Forsythe, you’re still under oath. Be seated.”

On my laptop, I pulled up the Mardi Gras photo depicting Jewel Shaw’s angry expression, taken around 11:00 p.m., and displayed it on the courtroom screen. I asked the witness to identify Defendant’s Exhibit 1.

Stanley Forsythe said, “It’s a candid photograph, taken at the Mardi Gras ball at the Williams County country club.”

“Can you tell the court the time at which this picture was taken?”