Sarah went upstairs, took a shower, changed out of her jeans and Tshirt, and put on a nightgown. It’s probable that Sarah fed the baby again later, before returning her to her crib. At some point in the night a man entered Sarah’s bedroom and raped and strangled her in her own bed.” Jim cleared his throat.
“It seems that Sarah did not scream or make any loud sounds during the attack, which the pathologist later said likely went on for some time, given the nature of her injuries. She may have been unable to scream—she was strangled—or she may have been keeping quiet for other reasons. The prosecution suggested in the original trial that her attacker may have threatened to hurt the children if she cried out. According to the prosecution, her little boy, Samuel, slept through the attack, and only woke when the baby started crying. At approximately one-thirty A.M.—but please bear in mind the evidence about the time line is shaky at this point—Sarah’s attacker final y kil ed her through strangulation, and left the house.”
Hannah was listening intently. So much of this she already knew, had gleaned from microscopic examination of every newspaper article written about the case, but it was different hearing it spoken about here, in this manner. Jim was to the point, straightforward, but he was also respectful, unlike many of the newspaper articles, which lingered over titil ating details and ignored others.
“The prosecution’s case was that Samuel Fitzhugh, then age seven, woken by his sister’s crying, came to the door of his bedroom and watched, unseen, as the attacker left the house. Samuel later identified our client from a photographic lineup, but we al know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is at the best of times. And we’re talking about a traumatized seven-year-old here. Not exactly the gold standard. Anyway, Samuel ran to his mother and found her unresponsive. He was very distressed, but somehow he managed to get his sister out of her crib and he carried her next door to the Stamford apartment. At two A.M. Thomas Stamford cal ed the police, who showed up twelve minutes later.”
Jim looked around at everyone, making sure that he stil had their attention. He had nothing to worry about. The room was completely stil . No one fidgeted or looked at their phones. They were al completely focused. “That’s it, real y, in terms of the facts of the attack. We know that police effectively had no leads. The kil er was extraordinarily careful. He used a condom and presumably gloves.
As we now know, a single hair was found but no match to that hair has been found in the system to date. Police canvassed the neighborhood and interviewed neighbors, family, and friends. Three weeks after the murder they had no meaningful leads, and no arrests. That was when they went looking for our client.”
“Why?” Hannah asked.
Everyone turned and looked at her and she felt her face reddening.
“Sorry, I’m just wondering what brought the police to question Dandridge in the first place.” She already knew the answer, but she wanted to make some smal counterpoint to the innocent victim narrative they were so eager to run with.
“An anonymous cal ,” Rob Parekh said. He held up one finger.
“That was the first link. Police claim that an anonymous cal er told them that Michael had murdered Sarah Fitzhugh. For that reason they brought him in for questioning. Forty-eight hours later they had their confession.” Parekh held up a second finger, then a third. “Then they had seven-year-old Samuel Fitzhugh pul Michael out of a photo lineup.” Rob Parekh turned his hand around to face them, al fingers extended like he was offering them a high five. “That’s it. An anonymous cal , a forced confession, and a lineup with a traumatized, highly suggestible seven-year-old. That’s what it took to convict our client of murder.” Parekh exchanged glances with Jim Lehane.
Jim leaned forward. “The case goes to a preliminary hearing on Monday. A preliminary hearing is usual y a nonevent.” His eyes swept over Hannah, Camila, and Sean. “The point of a preliminary hearing is for the prosecution to lay out enough information to convince the judge that there is probable cause to hold the defendant for indictment and prosecution. General y speaking, the judge wil not even consider defense evidence. A preliminary hearing is not a trial. After the preliminary hearing the case goes to a grand jury and then, eventual y, to a ful trial.”
“That’s how it usual y works,” Parekh interrupted. His eyes were bright; his expression said he was ful y switched on. “But not this time, if we can help it. I want to kil this thing before it gets off the ground at the preliminary hearing. I want to knock down everything they put up, convince the judge that there’s no evidence to support the case moving forward. We have one week. Jim and I wil be hard at work on the motions needed to exclude Michael’s coerced confession and Samuel Fitzhugh’s evidence. If we win those motions we might win the case there and then. I’m confident we’l exclude the confession, less confident about the lineup.” Parekh nodded at Sean, Camila, and Hannah. “I want you guys working every angle you can think of. We need new facts, anything that wasn’t explored or presented at the first trial. Anything we can use to disprove core evidence the prosecution is likely to present at the hearing.
Dandridge’s alibi. This so-cal ed anonymous cal er. Look for any police who might have retired or moved out of the county. Is anyone wil ing to break ranks about what happened in the original case? I don’t want to go into court with a dry case based solely on technical argument. I want a narrative, a story to tel . Understood?”
There were murmurs of agreement, and Rob Parekh stood up.
“Right,” he said. “That’s it. We’l meet as frequently as developments demand—Jim wil send you al a schedule, but let’s stay flexible, people—don’t be afraid to come to me or Jim immediately if you feel that something warrants attention. Remember, we’re working against the clock. And one more thing—public perception wil be a big part of this case. The outcome may come down to public or political pressure. Be careful about what you say and who you say it to. The prosecution isn’t above playing dirty tricks.”
HANNAH WENT BACK TO HER DESK WHEN THE MEETING
BROKE UP and Camila and Sean fol owed her there.
“Wel ,” Camila said. “Welcome to the team, I guess.” She looked pissed.
“Thank you,” Hannah said. She had to force herself not to say anything else, not to rush in with explanations and apologies for her sudden introduction to their little group.
“Yes,” said Sean. “Welcome.” His welcome was warmer, more sincere. He had an open, expressive face and he looked at her with interest. Hannah suppressed an inward shiver. Which was the bigger threat to her plans? Camila’s irritation or Sean’s curiosity?
“I suppose . . . should we get to work?” Hannah said.
“Parekh said to feed you. Let’s go to the bar.”
They took her to a little bar on Main Street that had comfortable booths and soft lighting. Sean and Camila ordered beers and burgers so Hannah did too.
“Fucking Hazel,” Camila said, as soon as the waiter left the table.
“Can you believe this? I mean, can you actual y believe this?”