Page 82 of Saving Her Heart
"Kendall, dear!" Florence calls out. "We're trying to get on the jury!"
"That's not how jury selection works," I explain patiently. "You can't just volunteer."
"Why not?" Betty demands. "We're registered voters, we pay taxes, and we've been involved since day one. We're perfect jurors!"
"You're biased," I point out. "You literally dressed as FBI agents and helped with the investigation."
"Allegedly," Gladys says with a wink. "Our lawyer says we were just concerned citizens in Halloween costumes."
"It was June," I remind her.
"We're very prepared for Halloween," Joan adds innocently.
Before I can respond, the bailiff opens the courtroom doors. "Jury selection is beginning. All potential jurors, please enter."
The Walking Ladies practically sprint inside, despite none of them being on the jury list. I shake my head and guide Kendall to the prosecution's side. The federal prosecutor, Patricia Chen, is already there, reviewing notes.
"Ms. Greene, good morning," she says warmly. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I might throw up," Kendall answers honestly.
"That's normal," Patricia assures her. "Remember, you're not on trial. William Thornfield is."
The defense table is still empty, but I know William's out on bail, probably arriving at the last possible moment for dramatic effect. Morrison and Valerie are being held as flight risks, so they'll be brought in by marshals when needed.
The jury selection is entertaining, to say the least. The Walking Ladies somehow positioned themselves in the front row of the gallery, making themselves as visible as possible to the judge. Every time a potential juror is dismissed, one of them raises their hand like they're in school.
"Your Honor," Gladys calls out during a break in questioning, "we'd like to volunteer as tribute!"
Judge Martinez, a no-nonsense woman in her sixties, peers over her glasses. "Ma'am, this is not 'The Hunger Games.' Please remain quiet or you'll be removed from the courtroom."
"Just trying to help," Gladys mutters, sitting back down.
The actual jury selection takes three hours. William's lawyer, a sharp-dressed man named Richard Brennan, dismisses anyone who seems sympathetic to property managers or unsympathetic to wealthy developers. Patricia counters by removing anyone who seems to think arson is a reasonable business tactic.
Finally, we have twelve jurors and two alternates. None of them are the Walking Ladies, much to their visible disappointment.
William Thornfield enters just as we're about to begin, and my jaw clenches. He's lost weight since his arrest, playing up the "frail elderly man" angle. His lawyer probably coached him on that. He's wearing a modest suit instead of his usual expensive attire, and he's walking with a cane I know he doesn't need.
"Bastard," I mutter under my breath.
"He looks pathetic," Kendall whispers. "The jury might feel sorry for him."
"Not after they hear the evidence," I assure her, but I'm worried too. William's good at manipulation. It's how he got this far.
Patricia Chen stands for her opening statement. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the government will prove thatWilliam Thornfield orchestrated a campaign of terror against the residents of Hibiscus Harbor. He conspired to burn down buildings full of families, elderly residents, and children, all for profit."
She lays out the case methodically—the financial records, the explosive devices, the testimony from co-conspirators. It's damning when presented all together.
Brennan's opening is exactly what I expected. "My client is a seventy-three-year-old man who built this community. He's being scapegoated by the actual criminals—James Morrison, who was having an affair and embezzling money. Valerie Thornfield, a bitter soon-to-be ex-wife looking for revenge. Brad Hutchins, a career criminal with a history of property damage. They're pointing fingers at my client to save themselves."
"That's not true," Kendall whispers, her hands clenched in her lap.
"We know that," I whisper back. "The jury will too."
The first witness is Chance Carter from the fire department. He details the explosive devices found, their military-grade components, and the fact that only someone with significant resources could acquire them.
"How much would these devices cost?" Patricia asks.
