Page 12 of The Perfect Marriage

“I would never hurt Kelly. I-I-I couldn’t. I loved her.” I drop my head into my hands.

“That’s great,” Sheriff Stevens says with a hint of sarcasm. “Why don’t you follow one of these deputies and go call your wife?”

7

Sarah Morgan

Istand and take a quick, small breath. I look back at Matthew and Anne. They’re sitting front row, and they both give me an encouraging smile. I nod slightly at them, adjust the lapels on my jacket, and walk toward the jury box. Before I begin, I make eye contact with each juror.

“Senator McCallan has worked in public service for over twenty-five years. In twenty-five years not once,” I hold up a single finger on my right hand to highlight my point, “has his character or professionalism come into question. We paraded character witnesses before you, proving that very sentiment. Not once has he taken a payout. Not once has he disparaged another person, used his power for his own benefit, or caved on his principles.”

I put my hand on my defendant’s shoulder. “He is one of the rare shining beacons of public servitude in a swamp of lies, corruption, and under-the-table deals. It is this same exemplary service that has led him to the situation he is in today, for he is guilty of one thing… not backing down.” I pass him a quick reassuring look and walk back to the jury box.

“Senator McCallan is now leading the sub-committee on renewable energy, an effort praised by both pundits and the American people, but not by—you guessed it—big oil.” I point to the two men on the public benches wearing beautiful bespoke suits, topped off by garish but equally expensive jeweled bolo ties. I pass through the swinging door between the prosecution and defendant tables and stand in the aisle next to them. “This was the one man they feared in this position. The one man they knew they couldn’t brush under the carpet with a quick payout. The one man they wouldn’t be able to go dig dirt up on and blackmail into silence.”

I walk back toward the jury, pausing at the prosecution table, “So, what did they do? They created their own.” I delicately point to the lead witness. The woman who this all started from. This part I’ll need to be careful with.

“We should not be mad at this woman for her false accusations. We should not be mad at this woman for trying to drag Senator McCallan down into the mud,” I pass her a sympathizing look, trying to convey that I truly mean this part, “because she is just a pawn in the game, not the puppet master. We have proven her ties to high-ranking employees at PetroNext, we found the ‘secret’ wire transfers to her ‘brand new’ bank account, and, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, if this isn’t just a good ol’ fashioned payout-for-a-smear play, then I don’t know what is. We sympathize with her, truly we do. But you should also see this for what it is. Fake. Pure fiction. False accusations trumped up in desperation to bring down the one man they didn’t know how to bribe and twist the way they wanted. My client is guilty of many things, fighting for the American people, staying true to his word, being a man of noble character. But raping this young woman? For that, he is unequivocally not guilty, and I urge you to find him as such. Thank you.”

8

Adam Morgan

Sheriff Stevens escorts me to a pay phone hung on the wall in the center of a long corridor. Deputy Hudson is only a few steps behind the sheriff, watching my every move.

“Make it quick,” Sheriff Stevens commands as he stops in the doorway.

I pick up the phone and hold it to my ear, closing my eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. How can I tell her what’s happened? How could I have done this to her?

I open my eyes and dial Sarah’s cell phone number.

The phone rings and rings and then her voice is there. But it’s her voicemail. I consider leaving a message but decide I can’t tell her I cheated on her and I’m now a suspect for my mistress’s murder over voicemail. I turn my back toward Sheriff Stevens and Deputy Hudson. They’re chatting while keeping an eye on me.

“Hurry up, Mr. Morgan,” Deputy Hudson says.

I wave my hand at him dismissively. I redial Sarah. She doesn’t pick up.Damn it.I pull the receiver hook down, and this time I dial a different number.

“Hello,” Eleanor says with apprehension.

“Mom… I’m in trouble. I need your help.”

9

Sarah Morgan

Itake a sip of my Bollinger champagne, which I seriously earned after that case. For nearly a year, I worked nights and weekends and traveled back and forth to Texas. Anne is nibbling at naan bread, and Matthew is happily drinking his vodka martini.

“I must say, Sarah. I am impressed. I have not seen you in action since mock trials at Yale.” Matthew holds up his glass. “To Sarah’s sharp tongue.” Anne and I hold up our champagne flutes. We all clink and drink.

“Watching her in action is literally my favorite part of the job. It’s like watching the climax of aLaw & Orderepisode,” Anne says with a laugh and a hiccup. She doesn’t drink much, so one or two glasses usually gets her going. She pats the corners of her mouth with a napkin and goes back to eating her bread to soak up some of the excess alcohol.

“But are you really going to go through with the knick-knack and give up the thrill of law?” Matthew scrunches his eyes while taking a bite of rice.

“I’m not going to give up law. I can do both.” I raise an eyebrow to him.

“You sure about that?” His eyebrow matches mine.

“Yes.” I drink the rest of my champagne and refill my glass.

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