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Tracey Kibre had worked some shitty cases before, but this one truly ate the cupcake. The courtroom was hushed as second chair ADA Kelly Gaffney worked a little magic to pull a heart wrenching tale from the little boy sitting on the stand.
Hell of a thing to see, thought Tracey, even as she scribbled a few notes on the pad she and her co-chair shared. Kelly was better with kids. For some reason, Tracey always felt like she was the proverbial deer in the headlights of an onrushing train when faced with the round-eyed innocence of a child.
Or in this case, not so innocent. After witnessing his father first beat and then murder his mother, the boy had then somehow remained silent while the father raged through the house, destroying everything in his path. Hours later, after the man had drank himself into a stupor, the boy had crept out and ran to a neighbor, seeking help.
As Kelly wrapped up her questions, Tracey scrawled a final note Dinner. 8pm. Pick someplace private. They both deserved some serious down time, especially since the next part was her job.
The crime scene photos. It's a good thing we've already had the lunch break.
The defense counsel tried his best, but could in no way shake the boy's story. As the child traded places with the medical examiner, Tracey stood and nodded at the jury. Gathering her thoughts, she was brought up short by Kelly's hastily scrawled response to her last note.
How does candles, a bathtub filled with bubbles, and pizza at my place sound?
Thought train thoroughly derailed, Tracey coughed softly and deliberately turned away from Kelly and fixed her gaze on the first of the photos.
In the back of her mind, she was already planning her revenge.
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