[June 22, 10 NE, Sunday]

Carol shakes the rattle before Zeke, who lamely tries to grasp it. The baby's sitting on her lap in the hammock swing outside of Rachel and Henry's cabin. The young couple is "taking a nap" before Henry has to go to work at the tiki bar.

Daryl comes to a stop beside the hammock, crossbow on his shoulder. "Goin' huntin'."

"Bored?" she asks.

"Sweetheart's playin' with Gracie, 'n Aaron 'n Mitch disappeared somewhere."

"Somewhere, huh?" she asks with a smirk. Probably to their room in the guest cabin. "So who's watching the girls?"

"Just told ya. Gracie."

"Gracie's watching Sweetheart?"

"Kid's like…eight almost."

Carol shrugs. "I suppose you're right." And there are plenty of people out and about. Children wander Oceanside like little Huck Finns. It happens in Jamestown, too. They grow up fast. Carol was teaching the kids how to gut walkers at story time in the prison, after all.

Of course, Daryl is the same man who, in a moment of pent-up frustration, suppressed grief, and guilt, told her that if she'd been watching Sophia like she was supposed to, if she'd been minding her daughter's business instead of sticking her nose in everybody else's, her little girl would still be alive. "Still, I might just check on them. Have fun hunting." Carol slides out of the hammock with Zeke in her arms.

Daryl peers at her. "Ya a'ight?"

God, he can read her like a book. Sometimes it's comforting, and sometimes it's as annoying as hell. "I was just thinking of Sophia. How I took my eyes off her for just a second, and -"

"- Sophia didn't grow up in this world. 'N that wasn't yer fault."

"That's not what you told me back on Hershel's farm."

"What?" He probably doesn't remember half the words he said that night. Or maybe he does, because his face darkens and he shifts uneasily on his feet. "Was an asshole."

"You were upset. You blamed yourself for not finding her. You said she wasn't yours, but you searched for her like she was yours."

Daryl bites his bottom lip. "Nah." His lip slips from his teeth and he shakes his head. "Searched for 'er like she was me. Like, if I could find 'er…might find m'self." He looks directly at her. "But you did that."

"Did what?"

"Found me." He leans in and kisses her gently on the lips. "Go check on the girls. I'll be back by dinner."

As he struts off toward the tree line, Carol rubs Zekes back and heads off in search of Gracie and Sweetheart.

[*]

Daryl returns to the campgrounds three hours later dragging a wild boar. Cyndie is thrilled and offers him and Carol drinks at the tavern if he'll turn it over to Oceanside's smokehouse to be enjoyed on their Honor Day picnic next week. Honor Day is when they honor and remember their lost men, who were slaughtered by the Saviors.

"'S a damn big boar," Daryl tells her. "For a couple drinks? Hell no."

"What else do you want?" Cyndie asks him.

"Buy drinks for Mitch n' Aaron, too. 'N watch Sweetheart 'n Gracie while we're all at the pub."

"And pay Henry back for whatever he paid for us to rent that bed and breakfast," Carol adds. She's been feeling guilty that he sprung for that, when he's a new father, Rachel is working fewer hours, and he's trying to juggle two bars.

"Okay, but…" Cyndie laughs. "Your son is not exactly hurting for income, just so you know. That tiki bar was genius. It's probably raking in more than the pub."

"'N throw in a mason jar of candy shine," Daryl says. "For us to bring back."

"Now you're getting crazy," Cyndie insists. "One-fourth a mason jar of Candyshine. And that's my final offer. Otherwise, you can keep the boar butcher it and bring it back to Jamestown."

Daryl doesn't want to butcher the boar. It's a lot of work. Storing it for several hours outside a smokehouse will be tricky, too. And he was just hunting for something to do. He got lucky. "Fine. Fourth a jar."

[*]

There's giggling from the blanket fort in the living room that night, way past ten o'clock. "She's going to be exhausted tomorrow," Carol says as Daryl slides into bed.

"Ain't got to leave 'til ten. Sleep 'n."

Carol snuggles up to him and sighs contentedly. "That was fun tonight, at the pub. I forgot how much fun Aaron could be."

"Mhmhm. Feelin' frisky?"

She laughs.

"'S vacation," he reminds her. "Last night."

"Before we were married, I never thought you'd be so horny. You hardly notice women."

"Mhm, well…notice this woman." He slides a hand beneath her t-shirt and cups a breast. Soon they're kissing and making love slowly, and the morning comes too soon.

[June 23, 10 NE]

When the water taxi docks at Jamestown in the late afternoon, Sweetheart is asleep on Daryl's lap, lounged back against his chest, exhausted from a vacation full of hard playing and a late night with her new idol Gracie. Sheriff Earl Carter is waiting on the dock. As soon as Carol steps off, he says, "The court's about to reconvene for closing arguments."

"Already?"

"Well, you've been gone almost four days. They read your sworn testimony in court. Be glad you weren't here to be raked over the coals the way the defense attorney did me. He kept going on and on about destroyed evidence, and how convenient that was. And then he grilled Nick about whether he was sure it was a gunshot and not a thunderclap he heard. And then he called Andrew."

"Oh no."

"Andrew did not hold up well on the stand." Earl jerks his head toward the trail leading to the Old Fort and courthouse. "Want to sit in?"

Carol glances back at Daryl, who is rousing Sweetheart from her sleep. He nods, and with a sigh, she follows Earl to the courthouse.

[*]

"The facts of the case are these," announces the prosecutor, Marc Washington, to the jury. Carol, who sits next to Earl in a pew filled with deputies, glances at the jury in the pew across the aisle. It's heavy on women, which was probably the working of the defense attorney. Jim must have thought women would be more sympathetic and perhaps have their own resentments against the men in their lives.

But Norma, the butcher's wife, at least, is happily married. Not quite so for Rebekah. She's the wife of the ex-councilman and bird hunter Barry Borrowitz. They have a marriage full of squabbles, Carol knows, but they also stick together. Barry's annoying and chauvinist, not the most attentive father, but he's also no cheat and a good provider. If Rebekah's ever thought of poisoning his tea, it probably wasn't for long.

Then there's one of the dairy girls, married to a farmhand. Carol knows nothing about their marriage, except that it doesn't stop the woman from flirting with Daryl. There's one of the two women with a bigamist marriage, except this is the one who divorced her second husband and settled for just the first, so she knows what it's like to want to be rid of at least one husband.

The last two jurors are men. There's Chris, a journeymen carpenter who is 18 or 19. But the worst for the prosecutor is Daniel - the inmate who once helped his rapist brothers to escape and was banished himself but earned his way back to Jamestown by alerting them of an impending raid and helping to fight off the would-be conquerors.

"On the night of June 2," the prosecutor continues with his summation, "Susan Lawson," he points to Mrs. Lawson sitting on the side pew of the altar stage next to the defense attorney, "murdered her husband, in cold blood, in a premeditated fashion, while he slept in his own, separate bedroom. She did it for his fortune in ammunition, which he had kept secret from her, and which he would never have let her spend had she known about it. She did it knowing she would continue to receive his pension of 15 hours a week of rations. She did it knowing it would free her not only to spend his fortune, but also to seek another husband who would bring in 20 or 30 or 40 hours of rations a week. Her husband had no history of stroke or heart condition, and no one in his family had any history of stroke or heart condition. He was only sixty-four years old."

Carol glances at the jury and realizes that, except for Norma and Rebekah, they skew young and may consider sixty-four old.

"The facts of the case are these." The prosecutor takes a few steps closer to the jury pew and faces them more directly. "On the night of June 2, at approximately 11 PM, while all the good little children were asleep in their beds, Susan Lawson shot her innocent and slumbering husband at close range through the chest. The evidence says as much. First, the guard, Nick Delatano, heard the shot at that hour. Secondly, Dr. Ahmad has testified that the shot must have occurred at less than two feet range, Thirdly, former Deputy Andrew Davies has testified he found the body flat on its back. Fourthly, Lieutenant-Commander Alvarado fished a bullet out of the center of the mattress, which suggests the shot was not made while the victim was out of the bed or climbing out of the bed but while the victim was sleeping on his back. There was also no bullet hole found anywhere in the walls of the cabin, as Sheriff Earl Carter has testified."

The prosecutor paces the stage slightly, looking contemplative. When he returns to the jury he asks, "What happened next? The evidence says Susan Lawson waited for her husband to transform into a cannibal, because the second shot was not heard until 15 minutes later. It was heard both by the guard, Nick Delatano, and by the Lieutenant-Commander, Carlos Alvarado. After the victim transformed, before he could even rise to attack her, Susan Lawson shot his cannibal body in the head, and there it continued to lay, on its back. When former deputy Andrew arrived on the scene approximately four minutes after the second shot, Mrs. Lawson feigned hysteria, told him her pre-fabricated story, and begged for the body and bloody sheets to be removed immediately so she wouldn't have to continue to consider the horror of her unfortunate experience. But the experience was not unfortunate. It was planned. In calculation. With premeditation. And it was executed in cold blood."

Marc Washington takes another step forward. "Given these facts," he tells the jury, "you must convict. Given this charge of first-degree murder, your sentence cannot be light. You have before you two sentencing options – banishment or execution. It is no easy duty to sentence a human being to either, and your sympathies may be even further pricked because Mrs. Lawson is a woman. But it is your duty to protect Jamestown by ridding murderers from its midst and by establishing your clear and unshakeable commitment to law and order. Because in these times of scarcity and regular threats, what is a community without consistent law and order? It's nothing but a playground for tyrants, murders, rapists, and thieves. Do your duty this day, however unpleasant it may be. Do your duty, for the love of your community."

When Judge Annette calls the defense attorney to make his closing remarks, Jim half-laughs as he rises. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his tan dockers as he comes to the center of the altar stage and turns toward the jury pew. He stands there casually. "Well, that was quite the pretty speech the prosecutor just gave you, wasn't it? Duty and law and order and if you don't kill this poor woman, or banish her, which is killing just the same…" he looks back at Susan Lawson and then turns forward again "why Jamestown is going to be flooded with evildoers." He makes a scoffing sound. "We know that's not true." He looks directly at Daniel in the jury pew. "Sometimes, the convicted turn their lives around. Sometimes, they make amends. Sometimes, they help to save the community from tyrants, rapists, murders, and thieves." He nods in Daniel's direction, and the rest of the jury glances at Daniel while he grins.

Jim pulls his hands from his pockets, rubs his chin, and looks contemplative for a moment. "How would any of you like to be convicted on such paltry evidence? Executed or banished with no physical evidence whatsoever? Executed or banished when all the physical evidence had, in fact, been destroyed." He practically roars the word destroyed as he points to Andrew in the deputies' pew. Andrew slinks down. "The bloody sheets that could have exonerated Susan Lawson by revealing only cannibal blood were burned. The bloody mattress that could have exonerated Susan Lawson by revealing the bullet hole was not precisely where Lieutenant-Commander Alvarado remembered it being was burned. The body that could have perhaps told us something more about the timing of the shots – " No, it couldn't have, Carol thinks " -was buried and rots in the grave. You heard Nick Delatano on the stand. Once exposed to rigorous questioning, he wasn't quite so sure that first sound wasn't a thunderclap after all, was he? If the two shots were very close together at 11:15 PM, he might have thought they were just one shot. And the lieutenant-commander was awoken by he doesn't know how many shots, really, does he? Who knows when being roused abruptly from a deep sleep what is quite going on? Yes, Lawson was shot at close range, of course he was. Almost anywhere you stand in that cabin and stretch out your arms is about two feet from anywhere else."

The defense attorney walks all the way over to the jurors and turns to face them directly. "It's well known Lawson was in poor health. He took a health retirement from the Navy after all. He had severe gout, which is known to cause heart conditions. Mr. and Mrs. Lawson were married for nearly eight years. Eight years! That's practically a record in this day and time. How many couples do you know who have stuck beside one another for eight years? There's no evidence they hated or resented one another, that they were unhappy together, that Lawson ever abused her or cheated on her. She had no incentive whatsoever to kill him. Sure, she didn't lose his pension, but she lost the ten hours of rations he earned from his light work." Lawson would have consumed those rations, Carol thinks. He would have consumed at least twelve hours of rations alive. She wishes the defense lawyer didn't get to be the last to give his closing statement.

"Have you heard of Ocman's razor?" the defense attorney asks. "It's the problem-solving principle that entities should not be multiplied unnecessarily. In other words, the simplest answer is usually the correct answer. And in this case, the simplest answer is that Jeffrey Lawson died in his sleep, of heart attack, and turned in his sleep. Mrs. Lawson, hearing him hiss, scrambled form the bed, grabbed her handgun from the desk as the cannibal monster was sitting up to come at her, and shot the creature twice, back to back, once in the chest, and once in the head. That's the simplest solution. And it's your duty not to read too much into this occurrence. Especially not without physical evidence. Especially with such uncertain testimony. A woman's life rests in your hands, and it is your duty not to take it if you have any doubt whatsoever about the very tenuous case the prosecutor has presented here over the past three days. Do not take your duty lightly." Jim nods to the judge and returns to the side pew.

Judge Annette issues her instructions to the jury, pounds her gavel, and announces, "This court is adjourned. We'll reconvene when the jury has a verdict."