Page 70 of Jon's Helter Skelter Cold Case

“Wow! So you’re making things all day long. Tell me, what’s your limit?”

“Well, I’m a mid-tier Materializer, and I can make around twenty things a day.”

Craig turned to the evidence table and picked up the axe. “Is this something you can make?”

“Sure. It’s only two layers.”

“Explain that to me.”

“There’s the metal itself of the axe, then the plastic grip of the handle. Exactly two layers of material. I can make up to ten layers.”

“What about the blood found?”

She waved this off. “Easy.”

“The cleaning supplies?”

“Yup, still easy.”

“Is there any evidence on this table that would be hard to make?”

“Honestly? Fabricating the purchase orders online. There’s a trick to that; you have to know what you’re doing. I was taught how to do it by my mentor so I would know what to look for in case of a scam. But it takes experience to know how to replicate it. Whoever did this, he knew precisely what he was doing.”

“Good to know. One final question for you. Is it possible for you to block another psychic from finding you?”

Francesca immediately shook her head. “No way in hell. Our ability just doesn’t work that way. Now, I can fabricate all the pieces necessary to build a machine, but I can’t just manifest it in one go. It’s too complicated of a machine. The generator to power it alone is too complicated.”

“I understand. Thank you. Plaintiff rests.”

Defense popped back up for the cross-examination. “Ms. Harlington, you said creating the axe and the blood would be very easy for you. Just how easy?”

She looked at him for a second. Sighed like he’d asked a stupid question, but she was being nice and not pointing that out. Then she looked straight at the axe, held out a hand, andpoof, an axe appeared like it had always been there. The whole room jumped, even me, as I hadn’t realized it was that instant of a manifestation. Damn. She’d make an amazing stage magician.

“Does that answer your question, sir?” Francesca drawled.

Sheepishly, he accepted the axe. “Uh, yes. Your Honor, I’ll just, uh, put this on the evidence table.”

“Might as well, it’s evidence of a different sort now.” Yvonna seemed bemused by this turn of events. “Is there anything else you want to ask?”

“I, uh.” He looked like he desperately wanted to somehow turn this around but had no idea how. Then he deflated. “No, Your Honor. Defense rests.”

Yvonna tapped her finger to her chin for a moment. “Now. What I’m hearing is that none of this evidence is viable except the clothes. Grant Walker’s telling me this woman is likely still alive, just missing. I’ve got an FBI agent telling me the perp can’t be Mr. Evans, as he’s an entirely different psychic type, and the evidence doesn’t trace back to him at all. This case was grossly mishandled from the get-go, in my opinion. Some sort of Tracer should have been called in to find the body. And from my reading of the case last night, that didn’t happen. Defense, can you come up with a good argument as to why I should still treat this like a murder case?”

He shook his head helplessly. “To be perfectly honest, Your Honor, I was horrified by the sheer incompetency of the last trial. I can’t find a good argument to keep this man behind bars. It’s my belief he doesn’t deserve to be there.”

Now that was sad. When even the defense couldn’t find a pinky toe to stand on, you knew you done screwed up. Forgive an evil chuckle.

“Then I don’t see any reason for us to continue the trial,” Yvonna stated factually. “From what I can see, there’s not a single soul in this whole room who believes Mr. Evans guilty. I certainly don’t. Mr. Evans, I overturn your previous conviction and declare you innocent of all charges. This judgment is made with prejudice. You are entitled to compensation, which will be settled at a later date and outside of this court. Case dismissed.”

With prejudice? Oh hell yeah! It meant no one could appeal the case again. Dwayne was forever a free man and couldn’t be retried for this, no matter what people said.

The poor man burst into tears, probably from sheer relief. I would have in his shoes. I heard his family shout out in jubilation on the end of the row, which brought a smile to my face. I was sitting right behind him, so I stood and wrapped him up in a bear hug.

“You’re free, man,” I whispered against his head. “You’re free.”

24

The day after Dwayne was proven innocent, there’d been a huge party at the Evans family home, and needless to say, we’dallbeenthere. It’d been wonderful seeing him in proper street clothes instead of that hideous orange jumper. He’d worn a genuine smile the entire time, hugged everyone, and confessed to me how his old employer had already reached out and offered him his position back. Apparently, no one at his workplace hadbelieved him guilty to begin with. They were eager to have him back.

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