"Defense, you may call your next witness," Judge McCarthy stated in his deep and booming voice that instantly silenced the entire courtroom when the court re-adjourned thirty minutes after the recess had been called.

"Thank you your honor," Nigel said in reply with a brief nod of his head. He stood to his feet and buttoned up the coat of his suit. "I would like to call, my client, Elizabeth Oldin to the stand."

The Judge raised a somewhat accusatory eyebrow at Elizabeth before looking back down at his papers on the desk before him and nodding his head in acceptance. McCarthy knew that this was going to be the best possible way for Mrs. Oldin to have a remote chance of winning this case, and he himself was eager to hear from Elizabeth.

The two policemen escorted Elizabeth to the witness box. Placing both of her hands upon the bible she swore in upon the name of God, pleading to tell nothing but the truth before taking her seat.

"Mrs. Oldin." Nigel addressed his client in the most friendly and non-threatening voice that he could muster. "Can you tell me and the court what happened to you and your family, in as much detail as possible, on the night of April the fifth, from the time your husband Jonathon Oldin got home from work until the time you were drugged with the chloroform."

Elizabeth recapped the exact same story she had told Nigel Summons only two and a half weeks before when he first met her. It was the exact same story she had told every other person and police officer that had been nosy enough to ask within the last month that she had spent in police custody.

"Now," Nigel continued after hearing the story once again. He leant his thighs against the end of the defense table as he looked to Elizabeth. "Was your young boy Simon a good child? Well behaved and what not?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said quietly through a raging torrent of tears. She nodding her head softly at the thought of her dear son and how much he lightened her life, it brought the softest of smiles to her face. "Simon was always a good little boy, never did I hear a bad word come from his lips and he usually did as he was told."

"Do you know anything about guns?" Nigel asked almost rhetorically, theatrically waving his hands in the air.

"Nothing." Elizabeth was now shaking her head lightly, the tears still falling down her flushed cheeks. "I don't even know how to hold one."

"Right." Nigel spoke very matter-of-factly as if the greatest mystery of all time had suddenly been solved. "So you wouldn't have been able to, let's say, let off a single round from the murder weapon, let alone fire off ten bullets at anyone. Three people for that matter."

"Oh Christ no." Elizabeth shook her head quickly this time, her bright green and glistening eyes now wide with shock from the question.

The prosecutor raised both his eyebrows at the sudden comment from Elizabeth. His fingers tapped against his chin methodically as he thought about how he could use that slip up to his advantage.

Nigel quickly approached Elizabeth as she sat shakily in the witness box and quietly whispered, "watch your language," to his client.

"So, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, will you answer this simple little question for me then... How could a woman like Elizabeth Oldin here, with no knowledge about how to even hold a gun in her hands, be able to shoot and kill both her husband and son that she loves dearly, with precision aim mind you, then go after a man that is allegedly her husband's best friend?"

The twelve men and women of the jury looked at each other as this comment was posed to them and mumbled amongst themselves about this new fact that had just been stated, as did all the witnesses and watchers that were seated at the back of the courtroom.

"Order!" the Judge called out loudly, raising his thick wooden gavel up into the air and banging it down against its heavy wooden base. "Order!"

"No more questions your honour," Nigel said with a quick and satisfied nod of his head before walking back around and sitting down in his wooden chair at the defense table once again.

Looking around the courtroom and making sure no one was still talking out of line, McCarthy turned his head towards the prosecution table. "Prosecutor, do you wish to question the witness?"

The middle-aged man leant back in his chair, one ankle resting upon the other legs knee underneath the table as he rubbed at the slight growth of stubble on his chin with his right hand and stared directly at Elizabeth.

"Prosecutor?" McCarthy's deep voice came booming like a volcano eruption through the courtroom, demanding an answer.

"Yes your honour, I do." He stood up from the wooden seat and fixed his coat before running his hand through his hair as he did every other time. Once again pacing back and forth he directed his questions to Elizabeth. "You say, Mrs. Oldin, that my client is a hit man that was hired by your husband to kill you and your son, yes?"

"Yes," Elizabeth again nodded her head slightly, attempting to take a hold of her nerves that were threatening to take over.

"Well, it is rather common knowledge among most that 'hit men' as you say always stick to the plans they're given by the person that pays them. What then made this one so very different?"

Shaking her head slightly Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders and offered, "I don't know, I-"

"You truly believe you were the one that Mr. Marquette was supposed to kill if indeed he is a hit man?" The prosecutor immediately cut Elizabeth's effort at an explanation off in an attempt to intimidate her.

"I know I was, he told me," Elizabeth tried to keep her voice flat under the stress her emotions were being subjected to but tears welled up in her big green eyes again.

"Did he?" the prosecutor sounded skeptical as he walked back and forth, rubbing his hand along the side of his face and looking as though he was trying to remember some distant and forgotten fact. "Brian Marquette told you he was a hit man and that he was there in your house to kill you did he? You didn't say that beforehand, so the story has changed now has it?"

Elizabeth paused for a moment and realized that she had left that part out of her account and a streak of panic suddenly shot through her. "When we were in the kitchen he said 'your husband hired me to kill you.'"

"And I guess he also told you he was a hit man, right?" Shrugging his shoulders in disbelief the prosecutor raised his eyebrows as he awaited Elizabeth's response, knowing now that he had caught her off guard.

"Didn't I say that?" Elizabeth asked slightly confused, her voice evidently filled with panic.

"No."

Another bolt of panic shot through her.

"But tell me Mrs. Oldin, if he was truly a hired hit man, why then did he not use a silencer to be more discreet about the matter?"

"I'm not sure, maybe he wasn't prepared-"

"So you know what a silencer is?" Once again the prosecutor cut Elizabeth's explanation off mid-sentence.

Again Elizabeth paused and her eyes darted quickly towards Nigel looking for some sort of support then back to the prosecutor again as he stalked her like a lion. "It's pretty obvious-"

"Tell me Mrs. Oldin," the prosecutors' voice was getting louder and more defensive as he felt the victory of this case tighter and tighter in his grasp. "Did your husband hit you? Beat you? Sexually assault you possibly?"

"Objection!" Nigel yelled in sheer anger and nearly jumping out of his seat. "Your honour, badgering the witness."

"Sustained," McCarthy said banging down his thick wooden gavel again and looking down at the prosecutor over his spectacles. "One question at a time prosecutor if you don't mind."

"Of course, sorry your honour, I got carried away." The middle-aged man paced up and down the witness box again for a few more moments then stopped and looked directly at Elizabeth. "Mrs. Oldin, would your husband hit you?"

"Sometimes-"

"Meaning what exactly Mrs. Oldin, monthly, weekly? Please be specific about this."

Elizabeth hesitated for more than just a moment, not wanting to answer the question and biting down slightly on her lower lip to help keep the tears at bay.

"Ms. Oldin?" the prosecutor pressed, looking for a damning answer.

"Daily," Elizabeth answered the question quietly, her eyes falling to her hands that were resting in her lap, the handcuffs still wearing at the skin.

"And did he ever sexually assault you?" the prosecutor continued.

Immediately snapping her head back up to look at the man asking her these horrible questions Elizabeth spat, "we were married."

"Did he ever force himself on you, when you didn't want to participate?"

Elizabeth glared at him through her teary green eyes and her cheeks flushed a light pinkish colour. "Yes," she whispered venomously.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," the prosecutor stated with a smile of immense satisfaction. "I do believe we may have just uncovered motive for murder. No more questions your honour."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and dropped her head to the floor in defeat, holding back the river of tears threatening to burst forth as the policemen took her by the arms and slowly led her back to her seat beside Nigel.

Jotting down some notes onto the piece of paper and not looking up, McCarthy asked in his deep and commanding voice, "are there any more witnesses from the prosecution?"

"No your honour," answered the prosecutor as he once again leant back in his chair; the smug look of satisfaction still plastered on his face.

"Are there any further questions from the defense?"

"No your honour," Nigel answered somewhat grimly, leaning forward on the table, knowing defeat was almost definitely staring him in the face.

"Very well." Placing his pen down on the desktop and sitting forward at his own desk so as to see the courtroom better, McCarthy prompted, "prosecutor, you may present your closing statement to the court."

The prosecutor rose slowly to his feet, smoothing his dark thinning hair down once again with his sun aged hand and straightening his dark suit in a meaningful manner. Slowly pacing up and down the length of the juror bench he tapped his fingers on his chin, deep in thought. "Ladies and gentlemen," he started slowly, hoping that the words of the things he wanted to say would come to him as easily as they usually do. "The argument of the defense has been that Mrs. Oldin loved her family dearly, that I do not doubt, and their argument went on to say that there's no possible way a woman that loved her family so dearly could take a gun within her caring hands and shoot them all dead.

"I stand here before you and ask you to look at the damning evidence that has been placed in front of you all here over these last few days. Her fingerprints were clearly upon the murder weapon. Elizabeth Oldin had a history of violence and her abusive husband gave her more than enough motive for her to snap and kill him in cold blood. Maybe it was meant to stop there, who knows, but the fact is that the defendant went on a rampage through her own house and murdered her family in cold blood, before going after Brian Marquette and attempting to murder him as the only witness too.

"Do not let this killer go loose amongst our safe streets. A woman that can kill her own son in cold blood like Elizabeth Oldin did, does not deserve freedom. Thank you your honour." With a slight nod of the head towards the Judge the prosecutor sat down in his chair once again. The look of absolute glee upon his face made Elizabeth feel sick deep in her stomach.

"Defense, you may present your final statement."

Nigel gulped down a mouthful of water loudly and looked for a long moment at Elizabeth and her pleadingly innocent green eyes. Finding everything that he wanted to find within them he stood from the wooden chair and walked confidently towards the jurymen. One by one he looked into each of their eyes and examined the depths of their souls. "Could you kill you family?" he asked in a calm voice. "Could any of you take a gun within your hands, and kill your family? Your Husband? Your Wife? Your Children? I don't believe any of you could. What makes that different with Elizabeth Oldin? A history of violence? No one here today has proven in this court that my client has a history of violence.

"She held her son as he died in her arms. If she were this image of a cold-blooded killer that the prosecution is trying to blind you with would she truly have held her little son in her arms as he died so painfully? And if she were that killer then surely she would have succeeded in killing Mr. Marquette, but here he sits in front of your very eyes, alive and well. Ladies and gentlemen I ask you, if you could not take that gun in your hands and do what this innocent young woman is being accused of doing, how can you find her guilty of doing it? Thank you your honour." Just as the prosecutor did, Nigel nodded his head towards the Judge and sat back down in his seat.

"Ladies and gentleman of the jury," Judge McCarthy announced in his deep and booming voice. "You have heard both the arguments of the defense and that of the prosecution on this case, you may now retire to the jury room to decide on your verdict."

Together the men and women of the jury stood to their feet and walked off into the small juror room to the right hand side of the courtroom.

The watchers and witnesses of the court waited in hushed whispers for what felt like hours. Nigel continually asked Elizabeth to stop fidgeting as she sat in her chair just waiting in frustration and getting more and more uncomfortable with every second that slowly ticked by. After ten minutes of waiting she turned to one of the policemen that was escorting her and asked quietly, "do you think you can loosen the cuffs? Please?" They had been wearing deeper and deeper into her wrists for three days and were now starting to cut away at the skin.

The younger policeman who had been the one driving earlier that day turned to face his prisoner. "The only thing I'm going to do to you Mrs. Oldin is escort you back to your cell."

With a hurt look and a building frustration, Elizabeth slumped back in the chair and exhaled in annoyance. Scratching her now long and somewhat sharp nails on the skin of her arm in irritation.

"Officer," McCarthy quietly called upon one of the court guards after an hour of waiting. "Go in there and see what's going on."

The young officer with his puffed out chest walked into the juror room and returned to the courtroom few minutes later. "I'm afraid they have not yet reached a verdict your honour."

"Very well I call for an adjournment, we will re-adjourn at oh-nine-hundred hours tomorrow morning." McCarthy raised his gavel once again and slammed it down on upon its base before standing up.

Everyone in the courtroom scrambled to his or her feet as the Judge walked out with his robes billowing behind him, everyone in the courtroom except Elizabeth that is who sat as still as a rock in her seat, completely shocked. After most of the observers and the prosecution had left the courtroom the two policemen escorts grabbed her by the arms and yanked her violently to her feet.

"No!" With tears falling down her cheeks Elizabeth screamed for the men to stop as she tried to break free of their grip. "Please don't take me back there, no, no please don't take me back there!"

"Oh stop it," one of them said with a yank of his shoulder almost dislocating hers.

Elizabeth continued kicking and screaming as she was dragged through the hallways until they opened the big heavy double doors that led through to the car park. People from the media with microphones were crowding the exit like annoying little blowflies and large camera flashes went off continuously all around them.

Again with Nigel in front of their small group all four of them pressed though the crowd with their heads bowed to the ground, Nigel repeatedly saying to anyone with a microphone, "no questions please."

"Mr. Summons, did you win?"

"Mrs. Oldin, were you convicted?"

"Mrs. Oldin, did you kill your husband and child?"

"Mr. Summons, what jail will she be going to?"

When they got to their unmarked black police car, Nigel turned and spoke to the crowd. "This is for all of you, my client did not kill anyone and she will not be going to jail. Elizabeth will be going home tomorrow after a not guilty verdict is served. Thank you."

The older policeman with the sweet cologne again slid into the backseat of the car beside the now shaking Elizabeth and closed the door behind him. The other officer yelled over the car to Nigel so every media man in the crowd could still hear what he was saying, "you don't really believe all that shit you just tried to sell to them do you? All that innocent and going home bullshit I mean."

Nigel shook his head at the inappropriateness of the young officer and climbed into the passenger seat glaring ice-cold daggers at the officer and closing the car door before saying any more. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe it now would I?"

"You're a criminal defense lawyer. I personally don't think that there would be much that you wouldn't say," the officer scoffed with a shake of his head and started the car.

"Just take us back to the precinct."

Together the four of them drove back to the local police station in dead silence.

Elizabeth sat quietly sobbing in the back seat, her knees drawn up to her chest with her arms hugging around them. She was shaking her head and mumbling about nothing, mindlessly scratching the back of her arms with her sharp nails until they bled.

Nigel watched her in silence from his rear-view mirror feeling utterly helpless and not knowing what more he could do to help Elizabeth out of this terrible mess she had somehow landed herself in.