The Reversal

to him about it?”
    “I don’t know why. I never talked to him about it. It just never happened again and he tried to act like it had never happened in the first place.”
    “But for you, all of this—your stepfather, your sister’s death—it took a toll, didn’t it?”
    “Yes.”
    “In what way, Sarah?”
    “Uh, well, I started getting into drugs and I ran away again. I ran away a lot, actually. I didn’t care about sex. It was something I used to get what I needed.”
    “And were you ever arrested?”
    “Yes, a bunch of times.”
    “For what?”
    “Drugs mostly. I got arrested once for soliciting an undercover, too. And for stealing.”
    “You were arrested six times as a juvenile and five more times as an adult, is that correct?”
    “I didn’t keep count.”
    “What drugs were you taking?”
    “Crystal meth mostly. But if there was something else available, I would probably take it. That was the way I was.”
    “Did you ever receive counseling and rehabilitation?”
    “A lot of times. It didn’t work at first and then it did. I got clean.”
    “When was that?”
    “About seven years ago. When I was thirty.”
    “You’ve been clean for seven years?”
    “Yes, totally. My life is different now.”
    “I want to show you People’s exhibit thirteen, which is an intake and evaluation form from a private rehab center in Los Angeles called the Pines. Do you remember going there?”
    “Yes, my mother sent me there when I was sixteen.”
    “Was that when you first started getting into trouble?”
    “Yes.”
    McPherson distributed copies of the evaluation form to the judge, clerk and defense table.
    “Okay, Sarah, I want to draw your attention to the paragraph I have outlined in yellow in the evaluation section of the intake form. Can you please read it out loud to the jury?”
    “Candidate reports PTSD in regard to the murder of her younger sister three years ago. Suffers unresolved guilt associated with murder and also evinces behavior typical of sexual abuse. Full psych and physical evaluation is recommended.”
    “Thank you, Sarah. Do you know what PTSD means?”
    “Posttraumatic stress disorder.”
    “Did you undergo these recommended evaluations at the Pines?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did discussion of your stepfather’s sexual abuse come up?”
    “No, because I lied.”
    “How so?”
    “By then I’d had sex with other men, so I never mentioned my stepfather.”
    “Before revealing what you have today in court, did you ever talk about your stepfather and his having sex with you with anyone?”
    “Just you and Detective Bosch. Nobody else.”
    “Have you been married?”
    “Yes.”
    “More than once?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you didn’t even tell your husbands about this?”
    “No. It’s not the kind of thing you want to tell anybody. You keep it to yourself.”
    “Thank you, Sarah. I have no further questions.”
    McPherson took her pad and returned to her seat, where she was greeted with a squeeze on the arm by Haller. It was a gesture designed for the jury to see but by then all eyes were on Royce. It was his turn and Bosch’s measure of the room was that Sarah Gleason had everybody riding with her. Any effort by Royce to destroy her ran the strong risk of backfiring against his client.
    Royce did the smart thing. He decided to let emotions cool for a night. He stood and told the judge that he reserved the right to recall Gleason as a witness during the defense phase of the trial. In effect he put off her cross-examination. He then retook his seat.
    Bosch checked his watch. It was four-fifteen. The judge told Haller to call his next witness but Bosch knew there were no more witnesses. Haller looked at McPherson and in unison they nodded. Haller then stood up.
    “Your Honor,” he said. “The People rest.”

Thirty-five
    Wednesday, April 7, 7:20 P.M .
    T he prosecution team convened for dinner at Casa Haller. I made a thick Bolognese using a store-bought sauce for a base and boiled a box of bow tie pasta. Maggie chipped in with her own recipe for Caesar salad that I had always loved when we were married but hadn’t had in years. Bosch and his daughter were the last to arrive, as Harry first took Sarah Ann Gleason back to her hotel room following court and made sure she was secure for the night.
    Our daughters were shy upon meeting and embarrassed by how obvious their parents were about watching the long-awaited moment. They instinctively knew to move away from us and