CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Iudicium Definitivum
I was getting a drink from the water fountain when Quinn approached.
“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Lee.”
“I’m playing with the elite now, aren’t I? Just following the rules of your game.”
“Rules? You crossed the line with him and you know it.” Quinn looked toward Dante, who was talking with his parents a few yards ahead. Dante looked back at us.
“Do you have proof of that, or are you just desperate?”
“The delivery guy saw a woman matching your description at the lake house.”
“Did he recognize me?”
“An elegant woman, dark hair, fair skin.”
“Ahh, I guess I’m the only woman with that description,” I said mockingly.
“Don’t play games with me, Helena. I know you. I see how you two look at each other, the whispered conversations, the way you act when he’s around. I don’t know how deep you’ve gotten, but eventually you’re going to get tired of treading water and you won’t be able to come back.”
Dante’s attention remained on us.
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the necklace against my throat, in the same spot where Dante’s lips had wandered earlier. “Unless you want me to make a scene and accuse you of trying to coerce me off the record, I suggest you stop spouting the bullshit in your head, Quinn.”
“You’re not as untouchable as you think, Helena.”
“And you’re not as scary as you make yourself out to be, Will.”
I walked past him, but Will grabbed my arm.
“You’ll fall with him.”
“Only if I let myself trip over your wounded ego. Which I won’t.”
We gathered back in the courtroom and everyone settled into their places. The judge called the session back to order and I stood up.
“The defense calls Katherine Thomas.”
Quinn watched me approach the podium as the woman took the stand.
“Miss Thomas, do you prefer I call you Cherrie or Katherine?”
“Either works.”
“Okay, Katherine. You’re the only person who was with Dante the night of the crime, correct? How would you describe his mental state?”
“Objection. The witness is not an expert in mental health.”
“But I’ve heard plenty of venting from frustrated suits,” Katherine responded to Quinn.
“I’ll allow it.” The judge signaled for Katherine to answer.
“He was irritated. Said his sister was dating some bad news and it had him worried.”
“Did he have any blood on his clothes or marks from a fight?”
“Only the ones I left on him after we had sex,” Katherine answered, and even though I knew I’d coached her, it was uncomfortable.
“Did he tell you he had fought with the victim?”
“Yes.”
“Did you two share secrets?”
“I’m a good listener. I think that’s what he needed.”
“Did he tell you he killed Quentin?”
“No. He said after the fight he went to hit the punching bag, but realized what he really needed was me.”
She crossed her legs almost in slow motion. The way Cherrie K.—or Katherine—moved was sensual and dominant.
“Needed? How?”
“I understood him.” She looked at him. “I know what he likes. How he likes it. And I knew he needed to direct his energy somewhere.”
“Are you a dominatrix?” I could barely get the words out because my mind was flooded with real memories and painful illusions.
“Not always. Not for him. Dante likes control, and I like making him happy.”
I swallowed hard.
“Why didn’t you come forward sooner?”
“Dante gave me a good amount of money and asked me to leave that life behind.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew how much I hated my work sometimes.”
“But you’re still an escort.”
“Unfortunately, I like money too much… but I like that he thought of me, even with his life falling apart.” For the second time, Katherine’s haughty composure faltered for a few seconds, and I hoped the jury had seen what I saw.
“No further questions.”
Quinn stood up but didn’t approach the witness.
“Have you been with Mr. Marino recently?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I was with him at the lake.”
“Your Honor, I’d like to remind the witness that perjury is a crime,” Quinn warned.
“Would you like to reconsider, Miss Thomas?” Fisherman asked the young woman.
“I was with Dante Marino at the lake a few weeks ago,” she repeated, more firmly this time.
“Was it just a sexual encounter?”
“No.”
“I thought your relationship was only about that.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“No. It wasn’t.”
Quinn paced the room as if weighing his next move.
“Has Mr. Marino ever written you letters?”
“No.”
“In your conversations—the ones that weren’t sexual—has Mr. Marino ever talked about another woman?”
“Yes, but I don’t see how that’s relev—”
“Has Mr. Marino talked about any woman who is present in this courtroom?”
“Objection. Speculation!”
“Sustained. Quinn, that’s enough. Either get to your point or release the witness.”
“I’m done with Miss Thomas. I’d like to recall Dante Marino to the stand.”
“The prosecutor has already questioned my client. I see no relevant grounds to call him back.”
“You’re not the judge,” Fisherman cut me off. “I’ll give you one last chance, Quinn. After that, I’m releasing the jury to deliberate.”
“Mr. Marino, keeping in mind that you’re under oath, I’d like you to answer me directly… Are you emotionally involved with your lawyer?”
“Yes.”
Chaos erupted in the courtroom. Suddenly all outside sound vanished, and Quinn’s question kept echoing in my mind, broken only by Dante’s voice:
“Did you ever confess your feelings to your lawyer?”
“Yes.”
Quinn approached him.
“And what was your lawyer’s response, Miss Torres?” Quinn looked at me.
“She told me to shut up.” Dante smiled at me. This was my end, and the bastard was enjoying himself.
“Lawyers, at my desk, now!” Fisherman shouted. “What the hell is going on here?”
“I have strong reason to believe counsel committed an ethical violation by becoming emotionally involved with her client.”
“Suspicions aren’t facts,” Fisherman retorted. “That’s a very serious accusation.”
Denying it before the judge would be the final nail in my coffin.
“And completely unfounded,” I countered.
“Do you have proof, prosecutor?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then I’m recommending all this theater be stricken from the record,” Fisherman said. “If you want to report counsel, go ahead and take it to the bar. In my courtroom, we’re dealing with far more serious matters.”
He turned to address the room.
“I instruct the jury to disregard this circus and focus on the testimony and evidence presented. Counsel will deliver their closing arguments, after which the jury will retire to deliberate.”
After the emotional turmoil in the courtroom subsided, Quinn took his position to begin his closing.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Dante Marino embodies the most dangerous kind of threat: charm that masks chaos. A handsome, wealthy, articulate man who knows exactly how to manipulate everyone around him until the rules bend to his will. He smiles like a predator certain of catching his prey.”
Quinn held each juror’s gaze with unwavering eyes.
“Dante Marino is not just a defendant. He is a carefully constructed illusion. He lied to the police, falsified the hotel register, and even lied to his own lawyer—who, incidentally, he’s already marked as the next victim of his manipulation.”
He turned to the gallery.
“You heard it yourselves and saw it with your own eyes: the golden boy image is nothing but armor. A facade hiding a man cold enough to indulge himself at a hotel right after the crime, in the company of a professional witness. An escort who claims she was paid to disappear. And the defense dares call this kindness. Protection. I ask you: protection from what? Or from whom?”
Quinn commanded the space. The room was his stage, the jury his audience.
“Perhaps we didn’t see Dante Marino commit the crime. But we saw his pattern. His silence. His manipulation. His seduction. That makes him dangerous. And he knows it.”
Dante shifted in his chair. He was visibly uncomfortable, on the verge of having his fate sealed.
“When you deliberate, I ask that you do so with empathy. But don’t confuse empathy with idolatry.
Don’t dismiss a victim just because he seems undesirable.
A man died. The Darwins lost their son. And if you don’t have the courage to see through the charm, you won’t be acquitting an innocent man—you’ll be legitimizing someone who believes he’s above the law. ”
A heavy silence settled over the room. Mrs. Darwin was sobbing, adding emotional weight to Will’s inflammatory speech.
Dante and I looked at each other. I stood up, took a deep breath, and got ready for the speech of my life.
“Your Honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury.”
I began to walk, moving through the space with calm deliberation.
“Dante Marino is not perfect. Quentin Darwin was no ordinary victim. And this was not just another crime in our quiet little town.”
I stopped in front of the jury, meeting their eyes one by one.
“I grew up in a world divided between right and wrong. Black and white. Truth or lies. A duality that comforts us, yes… but also imprisons us. It keeps us from seeing the nuances. From seeing what’s really in front of us.”
Everyone was listening. Even Quinn. I couldn’t tell if his look was contempt… or admiration. Maybe a bit of both.
“The prosecution painted Dante as a cold, manipulative, cruel man. But what I see is a man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and still tried to protect everyone around him. He protected his sister. He protected a woman many wouldn’t even see as a person.
And he protected his family’s name, even when it meant giving up his freedom. ”
I scanned the room. The jury. The faces. The weary hearts.
“We spent hours listening to assumptions that were never confirmed. Evidence that led nowhere. Insinuations meant not only to bring him down… but anyone who dared stand up for him.”
“The prosecution wants to win. They’re determined to prove they’re right. But that’s not what you should be looking for here. What’s at stake is justice. The truth. A man’s life.”
I paused for a moment in front of the Darwins.
“I’m deeply sorry that a family lost their son. But I ask you not to let the noise of passion, or the chaos in this courtroom, keep you from seeing the truth:”
“A man cannot be condemned for being complex.”
“Thank you.”
I walked back to my seat, feeling their stares heavy on my shoulders. The judge rose and faced the room.
“When we reconvene, it will be for the jury to deliver its verdict. Court is in recess. May God bless you all.”