The Closing
When I entered the courtroom, nothing had changed. The courthouse was full. The portraits of those killed in the disaster were displayed just as they had been the entire time. But there was an air of anticipation in the room I hadn’t felt before then.
District Attorney Chase Freezout rose. “If it may please the Court, may I address the jury?”
“By all means,” the judge said.
Mr. Freezout pointed at the portraits. “We’re here to secure justice for two hundred fifteen law-abiding, decent quadrant-folk — men, women, and children —”
So he’s decided to ignore the “Pot rags,” I thought.
“— slaughtered by a cold-blooded murderess.” He gestured toward me with an open hand. “Born in utter squalor, raised by villains, thieves, and w****s. Taught to steal, to lie, to run scams precis
