CHAPTER 19
The next morning, we returned to court for the opening arguments. Too nervous to eat breakfast and afraid of being late, I found myself at the courthouse nearly half an hour early. I texted Tara from a bathroom stall, afraid of running into Eric or a juror outside the courtroom. Finally, though, I couldn’t delay any more—time to start.
I forced my legs not to shake as Meili and I walked together to our table. She squeezed my hand, a gesture hidden by the backs of our chairs. A peek at Eric showed him in another ill-fitting suit. The gray plaid jacket clashed horribly with the horrid yellow shirt, which gave him a sallow complexion, and a lime green tie. He certainly wanted the jury to think he had no money. If I got lucky, Juror No. 9 wouldn’t find him nearly as appealing in s
