"You're lookin' at him," he says, and steps back out of the doorway. "C'mon in."

"Thank you. Chief Swan referred to you as Laney; is that what you prefer to be called?" asks Lucinda. "And are you comfortable talking here?"

"Yeah, sure," he says to both of those things.

"All right. Now, I've read over my copy of the notebook that was submitted as evidence, and the medical reports that the police retrieved, but is there anything else I should know?"

[It's not in your interest to lie to her. She doesn't have any reason to report anything you've done to anyone who'd get you in trouble for it.]

Lucinda does blink, but only just. "Is the incident in any kind of official record?"

"Fucked if I know, but I doubt it. Official records and my dad don't get along."

"Okay. I can probably get out about half a sentence about that before the defense lawyer objects, then, and it's anyone's guess if the judge will let me carry on from there." She produces some notes and consults them briefly. "The notebooks of documentation were submitted with a note saying that you have an eidetic memory, which is how you were able to remember all those events for your friend to write down; is that right?"

"Yep," he says.

"We might want to prove that in court. Some simple feat of memory that almost no one could do. That will go a long way to indicating that the documentation wasn't pure fabrication. I'm sure we can think of something, but if you have a stock party trick to show it off, that's liable to work too."

[Ask everyone in the jury to write down some random numbers and letters, you get exactly a second to look at each paper, the jury get their papers back, you read off the strings,] Bella says.

"That'll do," Lucinda says. "The notebooks also included several mentions of injuries serious enough to leave marks. This is the sort of thing we want to be able to provide more evidence of, but we don't want you getting half-naked in the courtroom either; photographs in advance are the best choice. I can take them, or if you have someone you're more comfortable with available, that will work too."

"Don't really care," he says, shrugging easily. "Might as well be you."

Lucinda nods and produces a camera. There is a pretty much silent photo shoot.

Alice indicates the provenance of various marks—this one from the time his dad broke his ribs in November, that one from a ruler, those ones from a cane. A nasty-looking knife scar across his left hip gets "not Dad, don't bother". As previously indicated, he exhibits no strong feelings about the process.

Lucinda makes notes about which photos correspond to which incidents, and, when she's got them all, puts the camera away. "Now," she says. "This case is pretty much going to convict or acquit based on your testimony. Do you feel able to do that - sympathetically, convincingly, for as long as it takes? If not, I can see if the defense is up for a plea bargain, but I think we can win this outright if you testify well."

"I dunno how sympathetic I am, but I'll give it my best shot," he says. "And I'm not gonna quit in the middle, that's for fucking sure."

"Okay," says Alice. "Oh, uh—I got into a lot of fights at school so nobody'd look twice if I showed up with bruises. Is that relevant?"

"Yes. I'll make sure you have a chance to mention that," Lucinda says. "Especially if the defense tries to paint you in a negative light for the behavior."

"Pretty sure the only reason I wasn't constantly getting in shit for it was because he knew I was covering for him."

"The defense attorney's going to ask why you were covering," Lucinda says, "and you want to have an answer ready."

"I lived in his house," he says. "If I'd tried this back in New York I would be in his house, and he would not be making me tea and cupcakes."

"And now you have somewhere else to go?" Lucinda asks, gesturing at the Swan residence.

"Yep," says Alice.

"All right. If I were the defense, next I'd ask you why you didn't trust the police to protect you if you went to them in New York."

"'Cause the first thing I ever learned about cops is that enough money will make 'em go away," he says, "and it took me this long to unlearn it."

"That would probably be better presented as a story about the unlearning, rather than dwelling on the original mistrust," Lucinda advises. "Am I correct in guessing that Chief Swan was personally involved there?"

"Kinda, yeah," he says. [You mind if your name comes up?]

"I made friends with his daughter," he says. "And, you know, she believes in her dad. Which was weird on a number of levels. She brought me around pretty quick, though."

Lucinda obviously thinks this is adorable. "That's lovely. We might want to call her up to testify too, to corroborate what you have to say."

"I can ask her," he says. [Or I could offer to go get you.]

[Should I try to not obviously have a crush on you in front of the lawyer?] he thinks to ask.

[Dunno,] he says, with a very slight shrug. [Thought I'd ask just in case.] Since it is permissible, though, he lets himself smile at her.

"All right," Lucinda says. "Unless either of you can think of anything, I'm going to go find Mrs. Hammond and speak to her."

Naturally, Alice glances at Bella, who between the two of them is definitely the thinker of things.

"Mr. Hammond is reasonably likely to try to buy his way out of this," Bella says. "If there's anything extra you can do to watch out for jury tampering, please do it. My dad's pretty sure of the judge, though."

Yeah. Things like that.

"Bye," Alice echoes. "Thanks."

"So," Bella says, when Lucinda has gone. "She seems decent."

"Yep," says Alice. "Man, how bad am I gonna fuck up the sympathetic thing?"

"Depends on how hard you try not to."

"I will try really fucking hard!" he says. "But I don't know how the fuck normal people work."

"Well, I'll be there, I can coach you in realtime," Bella soothes, patting his head. "Just take a second before speaking aloud - and look thoughtful or emotional while you do it - to let me see what you're going to say and make corrections."

Bella smiles. Pat pat pat.

"Purr purr," he says, grinning.

"Well, then I guess I believe you."

Meanwhile, Lucinda arrives at the place where Judith has been placed. Apparently they're just putting her up in a motel. "Mrs. Hammond?" she calls, knocking.

"Hello, Mrs. Hammond. I'm Lucinda Daly, and I'm prosecuting your husband's case. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"Certainly," she says. "Do you want to come in? I'm afraid I don't have much to offer as a hostess at the moment."

"I understand," Lucinda says, stepping in. She sits in one of the rickety little chairs in the room. "Do you intend to testify against your husband?"

"If it would help—and I imagine it would—yes."

"It would, yes."

"Then I will."

"If I were the defense," Lucinda says, "I would make sure to ask you why you never came forward. Do you have an answer for that?"

"It didn't happen all at once," she says. "He started out so reasonable... and by the time it was clear that he wasn't reasonable at all, well, I wasn't sure just how unreasonable he could get. And I didn't want to find out."

"So you thought that if you did anything, he might turn on you," Lucinda says.

"All right, that will do. Is there anything else you think I should know?"

"...He has a temper," she says. "You might consider getting him to lose it."

"Any suggestions?" inquires Lucinda.

Lucinda nods, and waits, in case there's more.

"And Junior, of course. A week doesn't go by where he isn't angry with Junior. But I don't know that that will help you any."

"That's already the subject of the trial, yes."

"He doesn't like to feel disrespected or slandered," she says. "Even about fairly inconsequential things. He is never happy to be disagreed with."

"No," she says, after considering for a moment. "I don't think so."

"Thank you for your time," says Lucinda, and she goes.