Chapter 46
Jackson County Superior Court
By the time jury selection ended three weeks later, half of Jackson County had already picked a side.
Monday morning, the courtroom filled long before court was called to order.
People lined the wooden benches shoulder to shoulder: locals from Sylva, reporters with notebooks open, courthouse regulars who never missed a high-profile case.
Two television cameras stood near the back wall where the clerk had reluctantly allowed them, their operators murmuring as they checked light levels.
At the defense table, Eleanor Harper reviewed her notes with quiet precision.
Across the aisle, Reid Calloway stood with one hand resting lightly on the back of his chair, speaking with Sheriff Burke Scott. Burke’s hat was tucked under one arm as he leaned in, his voice low.
Neither of them looked toward the other.
But both of them felt it—that space between them, tight as a wire pulled too far.
At the front of the room, the clerk stepped forward.
“All rise.”
The room stood as Judge Harlan entered from the side door and climbed the bench.
“Be seated.”
Wood creaked as everyone sat again.
Judge Harlan adjusted his glasses and scanned the courtroom.
“State of North Carolina versus David Mercer. Counsel ready?”
Reid stood first.
“Ready for the State, Your Honor.”
Eleanor rose.
“Ready for the defense.”
Judge Harlan nodded once.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he said, glancing toward the box, “this morning you will hear opening statements. These statements are not evidence. They are simply each side’s explanation of what they believe the evidence will show.”
He turned slightly.
“Mr. Calloway.”
Reid stepped forward.
For a moment, he rested his hands lightly on the rail in front of the jury. When he spoke, his voice was steady and controlled.
“Eight years ago, a young mother named Caroline Simms disappeared.”
He let the words settle.
“She didn’t run away. She didn’t abandon her child. She didn’t start a new life somewhere else.
“The evidence will show she was killed.
“And it will show the man responsible is sitting right there.”
He turned briefly toward the defense table.
“David Mercer.”
Eleanor didn’t move.
But her grip tightened slightly on the edge of the table.
Reid faced the jury again.
“You’re going to hear several kinds of evidence in this case.
“First—motive.
“You’ll hear how Caroline planned to move to Knoxville with her little boy, and how Mr. Mercer told her, more than once, that he would never allow that to happen.
“Second—threats.
“You’ll hear from a former girlfriend. She will tell you that during an argument, Mr. Mercer said, ‘You keep pushing me, I’ll do to you what I did to her.’
“When she asked what he meant, he answered, ‘I buried her.’”
The courtroom went very still.
“Third—messages.
“You’ll see texts between Mr. Mercer and Caroline—messages full of anger and control as their relationship fell apart.
“Fourth—opportunity.
On the night Caroline disappeared, David Mercer was one of the last people known to have seen her alive. No one ever heard from her again.”
“And finally—after eight years—physical evidence.
“You will hear about a place called Riverbend. At the time of Caroline’s disappearance, it was an undeveloped construction site. A witness will tell you Mr. Mercer said that’s where he buried her—and you will hear what investigators uncovered there after all those years.”
Reid’s voice stayed even.
“At the end of this trial, after you’ve heard all of that, the State will ask you for the only verdict the evidence supports.
“Guilty.”
He nodded once.
“Thank you.”
Reid stepped back toward counsel table.
Judge Harlan nodded.
“Ms. Harper.”
Eleanor rose slowly.
She walked to the same rail Reid had just left, resting her hands lightly on it. For a moment, she said nothing.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said calmly, “you just heard a very confident story.”
She glanced briefly toward the State’s table.
“It’s a good story.
“But stories are not evidence.
“Let me tell you what the evidence will not show.
“Because that matters just as much as what he wants you to believe.
“First—for eight years, no body.
“Law enforcement searched. Tips came in. Investigators followed every lead they could find. And for eight years, not a single trace of Caroline Simms was discovered.
“Second—no forensic evidence tying David Mercer to a murder.
“No DNA. No weapon. No physical proof that he killed anyone.
“Third—a bitter witness.
“You’ll hear from a former girlfriend. She will admit she was angry. She will admit she waited nearly six years after the end of that relationship before deciding to come forward.
“And fourth—a podcast.
“You’ll hear about a show that has built an audience—and a business—on accusing David Mercer of murder.
“You will hear speculation. You will hear opinions.
“But speculation,” she said quietly, “is not proof.”
She looked at the jurors one by one.
“This case asks you to convict a man based on assumptions. On anger. On hindsight. And on other people’s narratives.
“When you hear the actual evidence—all of it—you will see something different.
“You will see gaps.
“You will see guesses.
“You will see that the State has built a narrative.”
Her voice lowered.
“And narratives,” she finished quietly, “are not enough to take away a man’s life.”
She stepped back.
“No further opening, Your Honor.”
Judge Harlan nodded.
“Court will take a fifteen-minute recess.”
The gavel struck once.
“Court is in recess.”
The courtroom erupted into motion.
Jurors were escorted out.
Reporters leaned toward one another, whispering.
Reid gathered his papers.
Eleanor began organizing her notes.
A courthouse deputy approached the bench and handed something to the clerk.
The clerk looked puzzled.
Then she leaned toward Judge Harlan.
The judge opened the envelope.
He studied the documents for a long moment.
His expression hardened.
Judge Harlan looked out over the courtroom.
Then toward the lawyers’ tables.
“Mr. Calloway.”
Reid looked up.
“Ms. Harper.”
Eleanor turned.
Judge Harlan held up the envelope.
“Both of you.”
His voice had gone noticeably colder.
“In chambers. Now.”
Reid looked across the aisle at Eleanor.
She met his eyes, confusion flickering there.
“Any idea what this is about?” she asked quietly.
Reid shook his head.
“No. You?”
“No.”
Behind Eleanor, April leaned closer, her voice low.
“A package was delivered right before openings,” she murmured. “Messenger brought it straight to the clerk. It was for the judge.”
Eleanor frowned slightly.
“And?”
April’s eyes flicked toward the bench.
“He opened it right before recess,” she said. “He didn’t look happy.”
Across the aisle, Burke was watching now, expression tight.
Judge Harlan’s voice cut through the room again.
“Counsel.”
Reid gathered his jacket.
Eleanor closed her file.
A knot formed in her stomach.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Neither of them spoke again as they walked toward the side door leading to the judge’s chambers.
Whatever was in that envelope, by the end of the day, everyone in Jackson County would know about it.