"This picnic will include entertainment."

"They always do. In the form of ants."

"This entertainment I'm speaking of is better than any episode of Doctor Who in the history of Doctor Who."

"That's not possible."

"Get your coat. It's chilly outside."

An hour later Henry and I were seated on a wool blanket just outside the fence of the organic garden in which Rae was doing time. While the inspector and I dined on sustainably-grown nourishment, our afternoon's entertainment was the pained expression on Rae's face as she dug ditches, planted zucchini, and watered the tomato plants. The frozen look of disgust on her face carried an uplifting comedic edge. In fact, we both lost our appetites because we were laughing so hard. I hoped that as long as her probation lasted, she would rail against her punitive assignment. Henry, on the other hand, simply enjoyed the fact that Rae was forced out of her comfort zone and into a job that served society rather than manipulated it.

As we gathered our picnic remains, our spirits were considerably elevated, I imagine in the same way someone leaving a great theater production might feel.

"That was the best show ever," Henry said, smiling. He doesn't smile all that often, so it was a surprise.

"I know. I came here the other day, out of curiosity. Stayed an hour. Figured I shouldn't keep it all to myself."

"Kind of you," Henry replied.

On the car ride back to the precinct, Henry said, "Okay, what do you want?"

"I need to look at police files from when Harkey was on the job. Preferably before DNA evidence had really evolved and for anything that was a potential capital offense."

"I gather this is in regard to the Merriweather case?" Henry asked.

"You gathered correctly."

"Is this about freeing Merriweather or taking down Harkey?"

"Tomato, tomahto."

LAWYER DATE--.

THE FINAL CHAPTER.

If you found my relinquishment of choice in the lawyer-date matter suspicious, you were on the right track. I was simply making sure that when my final lawyer date went down in flames, Mom would take the brunt of the fallout.

In truth, I had kept the secret long enough. My mother had few weapons left beyond her knowledge of Prom Night 1994. It was time I took that sword away from her. But I get ahead of myself. First, may I introduce you to Jason Berendt, Lawyer #5, RIP?

We met at some swanky bar in the financial district. I wore my JUSTICE 4 MERRIWEATHER T-shirt, a corduroy jacket, and a knee-length skirt with boots. I ordered a whiskey on the rocks and waited at the bar.

[Partial transcript reads as follows:]

JASON: Isabel?

ME: Jason, the lawyer?

JASON: Yes. But Jason is just fine.

ME: Have a seat.

JASON: Thank you. Bartender, can I get a Budweiser?

ME: My mother didn't tell me you drank piss beer.

JASON: [long pause] I guess I never mentioned it to her.

ME: Interesting.

JASON: Who is Merri-- ME: Merriweather. Demetrius Merriweather. Wrongly convicted for murder twenty years ago.

JASON: I see. You want justice for him.

ME: Now that I know you can read, tell me something else about yourself.

JASON: I'm a lawyer.

ME: That I know. It's in the rule book.

JASON: Excuse me?

ME: Nothing. So what do you do for fun?

JASON: Golf. Snow sports. I'm a total gym rat.

ME: Why is it all you people play golf?

JASON: "You people"?

ME: You know, white, male lawyers.

JASON: I don't think we all play golf.

ME: Most of you do.

JASON: [hostility creeping in] What do you do for fun?

ME: I don't have as much fun as I used to.

JASON: What did you use to do for fun?

ME: Rebel.

JASON: What were you rebelling against?

ME: What have you got?1 JASON: You're not like your mother described.

ME: Especially not today.

JASON: I'm beginning to doubt we have much in common.

ME: We have nothing in common.

JASON: This wins as the weirdest blind date in the history of my blind dates.

ME: Thank you.

JASON: Not a compliment.

ME: Did you know that in the Ice Age, giant beavers the size of grizzly bears roamed the earth? Can you imagine that?

JASON: No.

[End of tape.]

I studied my mother as she listened to the recording. Her scowl took a shape that only Botox could fix, and fortunately I have the kind of mother who won't submit to torture for her looks. Sadly, I knew that scowl would vanish the moment our conversation came to a close.

"You know this doesn't count," my mother said. "Why waste your time sabotaging a date when you know you'll only have to redo it?"

"I'm done with all the secrets," I said.

"Really?" Mom replied skeptically.

"There's something you should know. Connor and I broke up."

"I'm sorry," Mom said, and she put her arm around me.

"You already knew, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Did you know he was cheating on me?"

"I did."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You know why," Mom replied.

"Is that why you made me go on these lawyer dates?"

"That and I thought it would be fun."

"For whom?"

"Me, mostly."

"So, no more lawyer dates, Mom. I'm done."

"Are you?" Mom said, thinking she still held all the cards.

"I'm going to tell Dad what happened that night."

My mother suddenly became speechless. I could see her mind spinning, various scenarios playing out in her head.

"No, you're not," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because it's not just your secret anymore."

PART IV.

SENTENCING.

PROM NIGHT 1994.

If I really stretched the truth, I could blame the whole thing on Petra. She had come to school the week before junior prom with a Cheshire cat smile on her face.

"You are not going to believe what I discovered in the back of my mother's closet."

"What's its resale value?"

"We're not selling this shit."

Petra then handed me what appeared to be her lunch. Inside was a dime bag of marijuana.

"Smell it," she said.

I opened up the baggy inside and my sophisticated nose told me we were dealing with some prime Humboldt County weed.

"Oh my god," I said.