I give myself a once-over in the mirror, straightening out my top and skirt and tightening my ponytail. I pick up my bag and walk out of the bathroom, running smack bang into District Attorney Josh Peters. The coffee he’s holding spills all over the both of us, and we both apologize to one another.
“Sarah, I’m sorry,” D.A. Peters says.
“No, I’m sorry, Josh.”
“Wait right here.” He dips into the men’s bathroom. He comes out moments later with a wad of paper towels. He hands me half, and we both wipe and dab at the coffee. His white button-up shirt is stained, but it’s hard to even see where the coffee was spilled on his black pants and jacket. I find myself glancing up at him as we blot ourselves. He’s in his mid-thirties and overqualified for the job he’s in. He could have gone into corporate law or defense, but his moral compass kept him in the public sector.
We finish getting as cleaned up as possible. D.A. Peters even wipes up the spilled coffee on the floor and then collects the soiled towels. He disappears into the bathroom and returns a moment later carrying just his briefcase.
“Listen, I know we’re on opposite sides and what your situation is, and I just want to let you know that I’m sorry for what you’re going through, but I’m still going to do my job.” He stands firm with perfect posture, his presence giving no hint of the sympathy he is trying to exude with his words.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, D.A. Peters.”
“Good. Are you ready?”
“Actually, I’d like to speak with you about the plea deal.”
“Sure.” He widens his stance and puts one of his hands on his hip. The open posture is supposed to signal an inviting tone as he waits to hear my offer. I have to give it to him, he has all the nuances down to a tee.
“Can we take the death penalty off the table and go for life in prison for a not guilty plea? You know just as well as I do, juries have a hard time coming up with a conviction when the death penalty is involved, and there’s a third set of DNA. We don’t even know who it belongs to.” I hold my hands out, palms face up as if offering a physical item to him.
“The evidence is stacked against Adam with or without that DNA. You know that, Sarah.” He re-crosses his arms and closes his stance as if to say, deal time is over.
“I know,” I say feeling defeated. He’s right. That DNA doesn’t really matter if we don’t know who it belongs to. Kelly was found dead in our home, and Adam was the last person to see her alive, plus his DNA is all over her.
“And Adam failed his lie detector test,” D.A. Peters adds.
“Yeah, and so did Scott. You know as much as I do polygraphs are a bunch of pseudoscience bullshit.” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Fine. I’ll tell you what. If he pleads guilty, I’ll reduce the sentence from twenty-five years to twenty years without parole. But that offer expires in five minutes.”
“I’ll go talk to my client. Thank you.”
Adam is still standing handcuffed in front of the doors of the courtroom. Eleanor is deep in conversation with him. Nothing good can come of that. The guard is near him but inattentive, and Anne is sitting on a bench alone, looking around aimlessly.
“Hey,” I say interrupting Eleanor and Adam.
Anne quickly gets up and joins us.
“Are you okay?” Anne and Adam both speak at the same time. I tell them I am.
“Maybe we should have someone else stand in for you.” Eleanor looks me up and down.
“I said I’m fine and I renegotiated the plea deal.”
“What is it?” Adam asks.
“D.A. Peters offered twenty years with no possibility of parole if you plead guilty. It’s a good deal considering what you’re looking at. I can’t tell you what to plead, but I do have to present it to you.”
He draws his eyebrows together and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. He was hoping for a miracle, but twenty years is still a long time to spend behind bars. He’ll be fifty-six when he gets out. But it’s better than the alternative, which is death if a jury finds him guilty. With the current evidence, a jury would most likely have no problem passing out a guilty verdict.
“That’s a terrible deal, Sarah. My son is innocent. Twenty years? I’ll be dead by the time he gets out.” Eleanor stomps her heel.
I ignore her and look to Adam.
He looks to me. “What would you suggest?”
“As your lawyer, I’d say take the deal.”
“What about as my wife?”
I take a moment to decide what to say. “As your wife, I’d say fight like hell.”
“All right then. Tell him no deal.” There’s positivity in his voice. I don’t know where that came from, there’s nothing positive in this case. I nod at Adam, and he sends back a partial smile, a small glimmer of hope in his eyes.
D.A. Peters walks up to us and says hello to everyone. “What’s it going to be?”
“My client will be pleading not guilty.”
“You’re making a mistake. My son is innocent.” Eleanor folds her arms in front of her chest.
“Okay then.” D.A. Peters nods, walks past us, and enters the courtroom. Adam, Anne, and I follow and sit on the left side of the room at a table. Eleanor takes a front row seat. I hope she keeps her mouth shut during this. Better yet, I hope she doesn’t. Perhaps the judge can do me a solid and charge her with contempt of court. Anne pulls out a couple of files and places them in front of me.
“All rise! The court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Dionne presiding,” the bailiff announces.
Judge Dionne, an old man with thinning white hair and glasses hanging at the tip of his nose enters and sits at his bench. He flips through a couple of pieces of paper and then redirects his attention to D.A. Peters and me. “In the matter of the People of the State of Virginia v. Adam Morgan. Counsel, please state your appearances,” Judge Dionne says.
“District Attorney Josh Peters representing the People of the State of Virginia, Your Honor.”
“Sarah Morgan representing Adam Morgan, Your Honor.”
Judge Dionne raises an eyebrow when he hears Morgan and Morgan. He immediately puts two and two together. “Interesting. Defendant, please state your full name for the court.”
“Adam Francis Morgan.”
“D.A. Peters, will you please state the charges that have been made against the defendant in this case?” Judge Dionne asks.
“Yes, Your Honor. The state charges Adam Morgan with first-degree double homicide against Kelly Summers and her unborn child.”
“It is my understanding that the defendant is planning to plead not guilty to the charges brought by the People. Before I take your plea, I must ensure that you understand your constitutional and statutory rights. You have a right to be represented by counsel at this arraignment, which I see you have already retained.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Adam says.
“You have a right to a preliminary hearing within ten court days after the arraignment or entry of a plea. You have the right to a speedy trial…” Judge Dionne goes on and on. I’ve heard this spiel a thousand times before, but this is Adam’s first time hearing it. He listens attentively, never breaking eye contact with the judge. I don’t realize I’ve zoned out until the judge finishes with, “Do you understand these rights?”