chief with renewed interest.
“Welcome to a small town. His mother was Nelson Abbott’s sister.”
“Really,” said Tess. “And does he agree with his uncle? Does he think Lazarus was
guilty?”
“Everyone around here does,” said Jake.
As if he could hear their conversation, Rusty Bosworth turned his basketball-size
head and studied them. Tess immediately looked away and met Chan Morris’s gaze. Channing
excused himself from the governor. He loped over to where Tess and Jake were seated
and bent down to talk to them.
“Would you two like to be seated up here at the table?” Chan asked. “It seems to me
that you have as much right as these others—”
“No, really,” said Tess before Jake could give some hostile answer. “Thanks anyway.
We’ll stay put.”
“Okay,” said Chan. “Thought I’d ask.” Stepping over wires and cables, he made his
way back to the table.
“That was nice of him,” said Tess to Jake.
“Yeah, he’s a peach,” said Jake disgustedly.
“I thought it was nice,” said Tess.
“He just wants to plaster our picture on the front page to sell newspapers,” Jake
scoffed.
“Does everybody have to have an ulterior motive?” Tess asked.
Jake slid down in the chair with his feet extended and crossed, his arms over his
chest. “Yes,” he said.
The governor turned to the audience, stood up, and tapped on the microphone in front
of him, lifting it off of its stand. The noisy conversations in the room immediately
ceased and the governor invited the assembled newspeople to come in closer. “Can everybody
hear me?” he asked, speaking into the mike.
A murmur of assent passed through the crowd.
“Okay,” said Governor Putnam. “Now, we all know why we are here today. Nearly twenty
years ago in this very town, a young girl”—he stopped and clarified—“an innocent young
girl named Phoebe DeGraff, who was visiting here on a vacation with her family, was
raped and murdered. Lazarus Abbott was convicted of her murder and ultimately put
to death for the crime. His mother, Edith…” The governor leaned over and indicated
the woman in the purple suit. “Even long after her son’s execution, hoped to prove
his innocence. Her attorney, Mr. Ramsey, knew of my feelings about the death penalty.
He insisted we get together and discuss the case. He pointed out to me, very cogently
during that meeting, that Lazarus Abbott was convicted mainly on the eyewitness testimony
of a child. And it is now a well-established fact that eyewitness testimony is often
unreliable.”
Tess’s face flamed. She thought she could feel Ben Ramsey’s gaze on her, but she deliberately
did not look at him. She kept her eyes focused to a point over the governor’s head.
“Mr. Ramsey convinced me that I should order a retesting of the evidence. Fortunately,
the evidence in this case had been preserved by the Stone Hill Police Department…”
“Fortunately?” said Tess under her breath as the governor continued to explain the
course of events. She felt a little frisson of anxiety.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jake whispered. “He’s just a politician enjoying the spotlight.
He’s going to drag this out for all it’s worth.”
“…and despite their obvious reluctance to reopen this case, the police were finally
prevailed upon to produce this evidence for testing,” the governor continued.
Tess glanced over at Chief Bosworth, who was staring at the people seated at the microphones
with narrowed eyes. His face appeared to be flushed with anger and he looked as if
he were ready to explode.
Tess looked back at the governor, who was taking a deep breath.
“Now, as you know, there has never been a case to date in the United States where
a person executed for a crime was later proved innocent of that crime by virtue of
DNA evidence. But many people have walked free from death row. And those of us who
oppose the death penalty
“Welcome to a small town. His mother was Nelson Abbott’s sister.”
“Really,” said Tess. “And does he agree with his uncle? Does he think Lazarus was
guilty?”
“Everyone around here does,” said Jake.
As if he could hear their conversation, Rusty Bosworth turned his basketball-size
head and studied them. Tess immediately looked away and met Chan Morris’s gaze. Channing
excused himself from the governor. He loped over to where Tess and Jake were seated
and bent down to talk to them.
“Would you two like to be seated up here at the table?” Chan asked. “It seems to me
that you have as much right as these others—”
“No, really,” said Tess before Jake could give some hostile answer. “Thanks anyway.
We’ll stay put.”
“Okay,” said Chan. “Thought I’d ask.” Stepping over wires and cables, he made his
way back to the table.
“That was nice of him,” said Tess to Jake.
“Yeah, he’s a peach,” said Jake disgustedly.
“I thought it was nice,” said Tess.
“He just wants to plaster our picture on the front page to sell newspapers,” Jake
scoffed.
“Does everybody have to have an ulterior motive?” Tess asked.
Jake slid down in the chair with his feet extended and crossed, his arms over his
chest. “Yes,” he said.
The governor turned to the audience, stood up, and tapped on the microphone in front
of him, lifting it off of its stand. The noisy conversations in the room immediately
ceased and the governor invited the assembled newspeople to come in closer. “Can everybody
hear me?” he asked, speaking into the mike.
A murmur of assent passed through the crowd.
“Okay,” said Governor Putnam. “Now, we all know why we are here today. Nearly twenty
years ago in this very town, a young girl”—he stopped and clarified—“an innocent young
girl named Phoebe DeGraff, who was visiting here on a vacation with her family, was
raped and murdered. Lazarus Abbott was convicted of her murder and ultimately put
to death for the crime. His mother, Edith…” The governor leaned over and indicated
the woman in the purple suit. “Even long after her son’s execution, hoped to prove
his innocence. Her attorney, Mr. Ramsey, knew of my feelings about the death penalty.
He insisted we get together and discuss the case. He pointed out to me, very cogently
during that meeting, that Lazarus Abbott was convicted mainly on the eyewitness testimony
of a child. And it is now a well-established fact that eyewitness testimony is often
unreliable.”
Tess’s face flamed. She thought she could feel Ben Ramsey’s gaze on her, but she deliberately
did not look at him. She kept her eyes focused to a point over the governor’s head.
“Mr. Ramsey convinced me that I should order a retesting of the evidence. Fortunately,
the evidence in this case had been preserved by the Stone Hill Police Department…”
“Fortunately?” said Tess under her breath as the governor continued to explain the
course of events. She felt a little frisson of anxiety.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jake whispered. “He’s just a politician enjoying the spotlight.
He’s going to drag this out for all it’s worth.”
“…and despite their obvious reluctance to reopen this case, the police were finally
prevailed upon to produce this evidence for testing,” the governor continued.
Tess glanced over at Chief Bosworth, who was staring at the people seated at the microphones
with narrowed eyes. His face appeared to be flushed with anger and he looked as if
he were ready to explode.
Tess looked back at the governor, who was taking a deep breath.
“Now, as you know, there has never been a case to date in the United States where
a person executed for a crime was later proved innocent of that crime by virtue of
DNA evidence. But many people have walked free from death row. And those of us who
oppose the death penalty
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