Chapter Twenty-Four
Simon
The courtroom felt different after the recess.
Heavier.
More real.
I sat at the defense table, my hands folded in front of me, trying to look calm. Trying to look like a man who wasn’t terrified of what came next.
Behind me, I could feel my parents. Mom’s hand had briefly touched my shoulder when we returned from the break, a silent reassurance. Dad had squeezed the back of my neck, his version of I love you, son.
The Silver Shadows filled two rows. King sat directly behind Tony, his presence a wall of silent support. Goliath was there too, sitting with the others in the back row, his massive frame somehow making the courtroom feel even smaller.
Grace sat beside King, her hand resting on her rounded belly, her expression fierce and protective. I hoped she knew what her presence meant to me. And Sadie. Sadie sat between my parents, her face pale, her hands twisted together in her lap.
The jury filed back in.
Twelve faces. Twelve neighbors who held my life in their hands. Rosalind had tried to get a change of venue, but Uncle Alex had denied her motion.
Now some of the jury members looked at me with curiosity. Others with suspicion. A few with something that might have been sympathy.
I didn’t know which was worse.
Uncle Alex took his seat, and the bailiff called the court to order.
“Ms. Winthrop,” Uncle Alex said. “You may call your first witness.”
Rosalind stood, smoothing her skirt with one hand, her expression calm and controlled.
“The State calls Sheriff Declan O’Rourke.”
Sheriff O’Rourke walked to the stand with a kind of steady confidence that came from years of testifying in court. He was sworn in, took his seat, and folded his hands in his lap.
Rosalind approached him with a warm, almost friendly smile.
“Sheriff O’Rourke, can you please describe for the jury what you found on the night of March 4th when you arrived at the residence of Alan Sanders?”
Declan cleared his throat.
“I received a call from dispatch at approximately 3:47 AM reporting a possible homicide at 1247 Oakwood Drive. I arrived on scene at 3:52 AM. The front door was unlocked. I entered and found the victim, Alan Sanders, deceased in the kitchen. He had sustained multiple stab wounds to the back.”
“And where was the defendant when you arrived?”
“Mr. Nelson was sitting at the kitchen table, approximately six feet from the body.”
I felt the jury’s eyes on me.
I kept my face blank.
“Did Mr. Nelson say anything to you?”
“Yes. When I asked what happened, he said, ‘I think it’s pretty obvious what happened, Sheriff’.
” Snickers sounded throughout the courtroom, and Tony shook his head.
“When I questioned him further, he requested legal representation and said, ‘I think maybe I should call my lawyer’. After that, he refused to answer any further questions without counsel present.”
Rosalind let that hang in the air for a moment.
“Did he appear injured?”
“Yes, ma’am. He had lacerations on both his hands. Blood covered his hands and arms from the wrists up. His clothing was saturated with blood.”
“Did he appear intoxicated or impaired in any way?”
“No, he was coherent and calm.”
“Remarkably composed,” Rosalind said, turning slightly toward the jury. “The defendant was calm and controlled. He wasn’t panicked. He wasn’t confused. He sat at the kitchen table next to the victim he had just stabbed to death.”
“Objection!” Tony called out. “Prosecution is testifying.”
“Sustained. Keep the commentary to yourself, counselor.”
“Of course, Your Honor,” Rosalind responded sweetly.
“Sheriff, did you find the murder weapon?”
“Yes. A kitchen knife, approximately eight inches long, was found on the floor near the victim’s feet. It was covered in blood.”
“And did you find any evidence that anyone else had been present at the scene?”
“No, ma’am. No signs of forced entry, no witnesses. The only fingerprints besides Mr. Nelson’s and the homeowner’s were Ms. Nelson’s.”
Rosalind nodded slowly.
“So to be clear, Sheriff, when you arrived... you found Simon Nelson alone with the victim’s body, covered in blood, with the murder weapon at his feet, and when questioned, he invoked his right to counsel.”
“That’s correct.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. No further questions.”
Rosalind returned to her table, her expression satisfied.
Uncle Alex looked at Tony.
“Mr. Gallagher, your witness.”
Tony stood, and something shifted in the room.
He buttoned his jacket with one smooth motion, his movements deliberate. He walked toward the witness stand with the kind of quiet confidence that made people sit up and pay attention.
I’d seen Tony in a lot of situations.
I’d seen him angry. Possessive. Vulnerable.
But I’d never seen him like this.
This was Tony in his element.
This was the lawyer who’d built a reputation in Arkansas before he came to Nebraska.
This was the man who could tear apart a case with nothing but words, logic, and relentless precision.
And fuck, it was sexy as hell.
“Sheriff O’Rourke,” Tony began, his voice calm and measured. “You testified that you arrived at the scene at 3:52 AM, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And the 911 call came in at 3:47 AM?”
“That’s correct.”
“Who made that call?”
Declan hesitated.
“Mr. Nelson called from Mr. Sanders’ residence. On his personal cell phone.”
“From the house itself,” Tony said. “Using his own phone.”
“Yes.”
“Not from some anonymous location.”
“No, sir.”
“So Simon made the call to 911 and waited there to be arrested.”
“That’s correct.”
Tony let that sit for a moment.
“Sheriff, when you arrived, you said Simon was sitting at the kitchen table. Was he attempting to flee?”
“No.”
“Was he hiding the weapon?”
“No.”
“Was he attempting to clean up the scene or destroy evidence?”
“No.”
“In fact, he was just... sitting there.”
“Yes.”
“Waiting for you to arrive.”
Declan shifted slightly.
“It appeared that way, yes.”
Tony nodded.
“You testified that Simon said, ‘I think it’s pretty obvious what happened, Sheriff.’ After that, did he say anything else?”
He turned and focused his attention on me, his gaze sharp and deliberate.
My cock hardened instantly as I squirmed in my seat, already imagining the sting of his hand across my ass for that snarky comment to the sheriff.
I could almost feel it... the crack of his palm, the heat blooming across my skin, the way he’d make me count each strike before pulling me into his lap and fucking me until I begged for mercy.
“He said he wanted a lawyer.”
“Immediately?”
“Yes.”
“So he invoked his right to counsel within minutes of your arrival.”
“Yes.”
“Did he resist arrest?”
“No.”
“Did he make any other statements about the crime?”
“No. He refused to answer any further questions.”
Tony walked back toward the defense table, his hands in his pockets.
“Sheriff, you testified that there were no signs of forced entry. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“But the front door was unlocked when you arrived.”
“Yes.”
“So someone could have entered and exited without forcing the door.”
“Objection,” Rosalind said, standing. “Speculation.”
“Sustained,” Uncle Alex said, but his tone was mild.
Tony didn’t miss a beat.
“Sheriff, did you find any eyewitnesses to the crime?”
“No.”
“Did you find any evidence that Simon Nelson had planned this attack in advance?”
“No.”
“No threatening texts or emails?”
“No.”
“No history of violence between Simon and Alan Sanders?”
“No.”
“No evidence that Simon had purchased the weapon or brought it to the scene?”
“No. The knife came from Alan Sanders’ kitchen.”
Tony stopped walking and turned to face Declan directly.
“Sheriff, in your professional opinion, does the evidence you collected suggest premeditation?”
Declan met his gaze directly.
“No. There was no evidence of premeditation.”
“You’re certain of that?”
“Yes. The evidence doesn’t support premeditation. Mr. Nelson didn’t plan this.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. No further questions.”
I leaned toward Tony as he sat down, my voice barely a whisper.
“He said I was calm. I wasn’t calm. I was in shock.”
Tony’s hand moved to his legal pad, and he wrote a single word: Noted.
His knee brushed mine under the table.
Just for a second.
But it was enough to make my pulse spike.
Rosalind called her next witness.
“The State calls the Medical Examiner, Dr. Elizabeth Wallace.”
Dr. Wallace was a tall woman in her thirties with gorgeous red hair pulled back in a tight bun. She wore a navy suit and carried herself with a kind of intense professionalism.
Once she was sworn in and took the stand, Rosalind approached.
“Dr. Wallace, can you please describe your findings from the crime scene?”
“Of course. I analyzed the blood evidence collected from the scene, including samples from the victim’s body, the floor, the murder weapon, and the defendant’s clothing.”
“And what did you find?”
“The blood on the defendant’s clothing matched the victim’s blood type. DNA analysis confirmed it was Alan Sanders’ blood.”
“So Mr. Nelson was covered in the victim’s blood?”
“Yes.”
“What about the murder weapon?”
“The knife had blood on both the blade and the handle. We found Alan Sanders’ blood mixed with the defendant’s blood.”
Rosalind turned slightly toward the jury.
“So to be clear, Dr. Wallace, both the victim’s blood and the defendant’s blood were on the murder weapon.”
“That’s correct.”
“And were there fingerprints were also on the handle?”
“Yes. Both the defendant’s and the victim’s fingerprints were found on the knife, as well as some partials that were too smudged to identify.”
“In your professional opinion, is this evidence consistent with someone who committed a violent stabbing?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
Tony stood again with a hint of a smile.
He walked toward Dr. Wallace with the same calm confidence, his hands loose at his sides.
“Dr. Wallace, you testified that my client’s fingerprints were on the knife. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Can you describe the location and pattern of those fingerprints?”
“They were on the handle itself, indicating he had a firm grip on the knife.”
“A firm grip,” Tony repeated. “Consistent with someone actively wielding the weapon?”
“Yes.”
“Now, you also examined the victim’s wounds. Can you describe those for the court?”
Dr. Wallace nodded. “There were multiple stab wounds. The majority were located on the victim’s back and posterior torso.”
“Multiple wounds to the back,” Tony said. “How many wounds are we discussing?”
“Approximately eleven stab wounds to the back and sides.”
“Eleven,” Tony said, letting that settle. “In your professional experience, what does a pattern of multiple stab wounds to the back indicate about the sequence of events?”
“It indicates the victim was likely facing away from the attacker, or the attacker was behind the victim during the assault.”
“So the victim was not facing my client when these wounds were inflicted?”
“That’s correct. The wound pattern is consistent with the attacker being behind the victim.”
Tony paused. “Dr. Wallace, if someone arrived at a scene and found their sister being attacked, and the attacker was facing their sister, and they intervened by grabbing a knife and striking the attacker from behind repeatedly to stop the assault, would that create this wound pattern?”
Rosalind launched out of her chair. “Objection, leading and argumentative.”
“Overruled. The witness may answer.” Uncle Alex focused on Dr. Wallace, and Rosalind sat down, clearly unhappy with his ruling.
“Yes. That would be entirely consistent with this pattern.”
“Now, let’s discuss the blood evidence. You testified that Mr. Nelson was covered in the victim’s blood. Can you describe the pattern of that blood on his clothing?”
“It was extensive transfer blood. On his hands, his shirt, his jeans. The pattern indicated direct contact with the victim during a violent struggle.”
“Transfer blood,” Tony said. “Not spatter?”
“No. Transfer blood comes from direct contact or grappling, from being in close physical proximity during a struggle.”
“So if someone was in close contact with a victim while repeatedly stabbing him, for instance pulling him off another victim—”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Rosalind screeched.
“I’ll rephrase,” Tony said, waving her off.
“Would the wound pattern be consistent with the victim’s attention being directed toward another person when the stab wounds were inflicted?”
“Yes, that would be consistent with the victim’s attention being directed elsewhere at the time.”
“Dr. Wallace, you also found the defendant’s blood mixed with the victim’s blood on the knife. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“Can you explain how the defendant’s blood came to be on the knife?”
“The defendant would have had to have direct contact with the blade. Most likely, he cut his hands while gripping the knife during the struggle.”
“So if someone was gripping a knife so firmly that they cut their own hands while repeatedly stabbing an attacker, would that explain the defendant’s blood being mixed with the victim’s blood on the weapon?”
“Yes. That’s consistent with a tight grip during a violent struggle.”
“You also mentioned partial fingerprints on the knife that were too smudged to identify. What would cause that?”
“Partial or smudged fingerprints can result from a number of factors. Movement during handling, the presence of blood or other fluids, pressure changes while gripping the object, or the surface texture of the knife itself can all interfere with the clarity of a print. In a violent struggle, it would not be unusual to recover prints that are incomplete or unsuitable for identification.”
“So Mr. Sanders may have tried to grab the knife as my client was stabbing him?”
“That’s possible, yes. The smudged prints are consistent with both parties fighting over the weapon.”
Tony turned slightly toward the jury. “Dr. Wallace, just so we’re clear about the forensic evidence: the defendant’s fingerprints were identified on the knife handle; the victim sustained multiple stab wounds to the back; there was significant blood transfer on the defendant’s clothing consistent with close physical contact; the defendant’s blood was found mixed with the victim’s blood on the knife; and investigators recovered partial smudged prints from the weapon that were unsuitable for identification. Have I summarized that correctly?”
“Yes,” Dr. Wallace said.
“In your professional opinion, is all of this evidence consistent with someone who arrived at a scene, found their sister being attacked, grabbed a knife, and repeatedly stabbed the attacker from behind to stop the assault?”
Dr. Wallace met his eyes.
“Yes,” she admitted. “It would be entirely consistent with that scenario.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
“Redirect, Your Honor!”