Page 42 of Wicked Little Secret

“Yes, Miss Oliver?”

“I had some thoughts about our discussion during class.”

Of course, you did. You think much more dimensionally than the rest of the class.

On the outside, I remain nonplussed. Staring her down as she approaches, I say, “Such as?”

“It’s regarding what you said about the death penalty,” she says. “You stated that it typically provides justice and closure to the families of the victims.”

I arch a judgmental brow at her. “Is that something you disagree with?”

“Sure, in some circumstances, but we can’t overlook other elements. There’s the fact that the legal system is steeped in biases. If you’re rich, you can afford better representation than someone poor relying on public defenders?—”

“I assure you, as a former defense attorney myself, it is substantially easier to get someone off a murder or manslaughter charge than it is to get them convicted. The bar for conviction is extremely high. There is a reason conviction rates typically pale in comparison to the numberof arrests made. The number of cases that make it to trial. The same goes for rape and sexual assault.”

“But what about the few who do slip through the cracks?” she presses determinedly, even taking a step toward me. “One in eight people sentenced to death row are later found innocent, Professor. That’s not even touching on the racial disparities that exist in our legal system. People of color—Black people—are more likely to be prosecuted for capital murder than White people, especially if the victim in the case is White themselves.”

I fold my arms and lean against my desk, half genuinely interested in what she has to say, and half attracted to how passionate she becomes.

I’m not sure I’ve ever been this turned on by legal arguments before.

“Valid,” I admit. “Then what is the solution, Miss Oliver? Are you suggesting we eliminate the death penalty altogether? What about the families of victims from heinous crimes? Let’s say, an obvious example in our own community, the Valentine Killer? Are you suggesting if he is really back—if he has truly returned—that should he or she be caught, they should not face the death penalty?”

Her brows knit closer, her internal conflict passing over her face. “Well… for someone who committed really heinous crimes… I’m not sure…”

“Part of critiquing legal theory, Miss Oliver, includes an understanding that the system will never be perfect. No legal system in the world is or ever can be. But typically, we strive for what best serves society. How familiar are you with ethical philosophy?” I ask. “I would argue much of our justice system is a utilitarianism approach, meaning what benefits the greater good prevails. Some innocents may slip through the cracks, but what is the relative cost to allowinga much larger number of not-so-good people to go unpunished?”

“People deserve to suffer for what they’ve done,” she says with immediate conviction, making me tilt my head to the side. “If they’ve wronged others, then they do deserve to suffer.”

“Interesting take considering the argument you just made against the death penalty.”

“I’m against innocents being punished. I have no concern for bad people.”

“How would you suggest delineating between the two?”

“We can start by working toward consistency. Equal treatment and punishment under the law.”

“Noble concept. Agreed. Tell me some of your ideas.”

An hour passes before we notice the time and our discussion comes to an end. Nyssa has another class coming up and I have grading to do.

“I can’t remember the last time I lost track of time like this,” she says bashfully. “I’m running late. This campus is massive and takes you ten minutes to get anywhere.”

“It was designed that way. Castlebury was built centuries ago,” I say with a wondrous glance at the chain-link chandelier that hangs from the ceiling. “Back when it was fashionable to have bookcases that led to other rooms and hidden dwellings underground. Many still exist today…”

“It sounds like you’re very familiar with them.”

“I’ve been here for quite a long time. You should hurry. You don’t want to miss your class.”

“Maybe we can pick up where we left off next time.” She casts me a reluctant smile before we part ways.

I watch her go equally as reluctant, almost wishing she could stay longer.

The fact that we remained so engaged we exchanged ideas and discussed legal theory for an hour does nothing to quell my obsession. It merely fuels it further.

Nyssa challenged my positions and put me on the defensive. All things I welcomed as I countered what she said and left her to consider my perspectives in the same way.

It’s the first of many after-class discussions like this.

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