How to Kill a Man in Thirty Seconds

Chapter 46: Torn

Silence filled the courtroom.

The defense attorney turned her determined eyes to the jurors, "Members of the jury, Mary Clark has an IQ of 67, way below the average. She was subjected to an intense interrogation for nearly ten hours. Police told her about the evidence that had been found, about all the witnesses. They lied to her, insisting her fingerprints had been found at the site. All to make her confess what they believed was the truth. At first, my client didn't buy it. But when one hour dragged to two hours, and then five, and then ten and it seemed it would never stop, she... gave up.

"She was terrified. They convinced her she was as good as guilty already, that it was too late and that she would be convicted anyway. My client was alone. With her disability, she didn't know to ask for a lawyer. She was scared. She was confused. And then they told her that confessing was the only way she could reduce the sentence. And she believed them."

"Members of the jury, Mary's confession was nothing more than a sick example of coercion. It was a false confession," she walked forward, handing over a file to the judge, "This psychiatrist's report details her psychiatric state and how credible her witness statement will be. Now, let me call the defendant Mary Clark to the stand."

It took awhile for the trembling woman to reach it and when she did, her head was bent forward, her gaze flickering everywhere but at the faces of the onlookers. Her face was ashen and beads of sweat bathed her brow as she gnawed on her lip mercilessly. Mark Clark was terrified.

"Ms. Clark?" it was odd hearing the attorney's soft-spoken voice for the first time.

Mary's gaze shot upwards, locking with the young lawyer's and an unspoken moment passed between them. The lawyer nodded. The defendant swallowed hard.

"Ms. Clark, have you ever spoken to Anthony?"

Mary took a moment to process the question, and when she spoke, her words were uttered slowly, voice trembling with nervousness, "I have not."

I never met Anthony Green. Those had been her words the night of the party.

"What were you doing that night in Wrightwood?"

"There was going to be an exhibition. An art exhibition. But it was cancelled and so I... went to the bar and drank instead."

The lawyer nodded, smiling encouragingly, "Why did you decide to stay at the Red Hills motel?"

The defendant blinked twice, "Home was far. Too far. And it was late."

"Do you remember getting to the motel?"

Mary nodded, "Yes."

"But you don't remember anything after that?"

"No. I was very drunk."

The lawyer nodded in satisfaction, "When you saw the messages that morning, why didn't you go to the police?"

"At first, I didn't think much of it. But then, when I found that... Anthony was dead, I was scared. I thought that... maybe they would think I did it if they saw."

The attorney turned to the jury, who were all listening to her with bated breath, "The gun found at the defendant's home was reported stolen years ago. Mary has no criminal record. With her disability, there is no way she could have stolen a shotgun without getting caught."

"I tell you, members of the jury; the defendant is not the killer. Her disability makes her an easy victim in this case, and the killer knew that. She is being framed. The prosecution has failed to prove her guilty beyond reasonable doubt."