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The Oliver Weddinghouse trial was the event of the year for anyone who had followed the grisly murder story. The crowds were massive. You’d think there was a red carpet leading up to the courthouse the way people spilled out into the streets. Everybody wanted to see or be seen. Inside, every inch of space was taken by spectators. Several of the front aisles were roped off and reserved for those involved in the trial and others who had a direct interest. It was standing room only, and to secure one of those spaces you had to arrive early. A steady murmuring hum resonated among the press, sketch artists, teams of lawyers and their assistants who churned up enough energy to fly a plane from one side of the country to the other, if science knew how to harness it.
Carrie and I were drawn t
