Abigail looked defiant, sitting behind the defendant’s table. Even in prison orange, she looked haughty. I couldn’t understand how she could look so sure of herself. She was a big woman. Not fat, just broad and tall. Her hair was thick, hanging like a heavy curtain around her face.
She wasn’t doing herself any favors to the people in the jury. She sat, looking straight ahead, calm determination etched on her face.
I’d just delivered my closing arguments against her and taken my seat. The jury looked like they were going to be sick. The things she’d been accused of was more than I could stomach, and I’d seen more than most people.
I had to remind myself to not look at Emily behind me. She didn’t always come to see me at work, it was frowned upon. But I liked having her here for this one. It was just too chilling.
You don’t get used to dead kids, no matter how often you see them. This death was especially horrific. The little boy was found in pieces, with bite marks all over his body. His poor mother, I still haven’t seen her without tears. And the father hadn’t been able to take it. He’d killed himself before the trial had even started.
Abigail insisted that she was innocent. She’d put on a great show of being physically ill when shown pictures of the boy. But when the police searched her car, they’d found the child’s bloody shirt in her trunk, under her spare tire. She insisted that she had only gone to the convenience store, then right home. But she lived alone, so there was no one to confirm that.
She was a horrific woman, there was no way around it. She worked at a packing factory for some furniture store. She wasn’t in any sort of relationship, didn’t have any close friends. She didn’t have any family that she was close with. I’d made sure to tell the jury all of that, painting a picture of the monster that had attacked a child.
I was glad that Emily was here. It made me feel better, knowing that she was behind me. She was what a real woman should be. She was quiet, petite and lovely. I loved her so much. It was laughable to even compare her to Abigail. They seemed to be two different species.
The jury was going to convict Abigail. I’d seen enough of these to know it. Abigail showed no remorse, no sense that she’d done anything wrong. She steadfastly professed her innocence, despite the damning evidence. The jury could barely stand to look at her. Often the thought that someone was eligible for the death sentence deterred people from voting guilty. I didn’t think it would deter this jury, though.
It made things easier. Normally, Emily was more careful. I almost hadn’t gotten the shirt into the car in time. It was lucky that Abigail had been at the convenience store that night.