No Defense - Prologue

I hurried down the wide marble hallway of the new county courthouse planned by and named after my father; the clicking of my high heels on the marble floor echoed behind me, skipping a beat when I hesitated in front of the massive wooden doors of Courtroom G. I took a deep breath, bracing myself, then I firmly grasped the brass handle on the right and pulled the door open.

Once inside the spacious courtroom, I tried to stare straight ahead and ignore the blur of people watching me. I willed myself not to bite my lip, a nervous habit I'd had as long as I could remember, one that had been mentioned by some reporter in one of the articles about my family after my father, Newell Hagerdorn, the mayor of Tallagumsa, Alabama, and the leading candidate for governor, was indicted for murder.

The courtroom spectators seemed to be seated according to their sympathies, reminding me suddenly and absurdly of a wedding celebration where the bride's family and friends take the left section and the groom's family and friends the right. The organizing principles here, however, were my father and the crime with which he was charged.

The first three rows on the right side behind the prosecutor's table were occupied by the dead boys' mothers and their supporters, a rectangle of black in a sea of white.