alice’s court date fast approaches with maria in custody. despite elle, freddie and emmett being on her legal team and the confidence she has in them, alice cries quietly for the majority of the time she’s questioned. her story is consistent: she argued with caleb, left through the front door, walked around the club to the cab station at the rear and got into a cab that took her home. she did not speak to caleb after their argument had ended, and did not see anyone else before getting into her cab.
eventually, it’s time to call maria to the stand.
she sits bolt upright, silent and sticken, makeup smudged on her face -- the picture of horror and shock. she trembles as she takes the oath. unfortunately for her, she’s dealing with professionals, not just sympathetic onlookers. when freddie talks to her, it’s as if they’d never met before today.
“miss harding,” he begins, in that same powerful voice he’d used when conducting the search of her apartment, “can you tell me what you saw the night of the murder?”
“alice and caleb fought,” she says, voice whispy and gentle, “and alice left because he upset her. caleb followed her out-”
“but miss dubois says that she didn’t see the victim once she left the club,” emmett interjects, crossing his arms over his chest tightly.
“i--” maria looks a little hopeless, glancing between the lawyers with her doe’s eyes. “i--”
“and we have a statement from one sonny merriweather, who tells us that the victim left through the back exit. how could you see the victim follow miss dubois when he left through the opposite exit?” freddie pushes, clearly fighting the urge to pace. it’s a statement given to him by jake and not one he expects to uphold, but it seems the court has other concerns.
“objection,” maria’s lawyer stands, paper in her left hand. “that wasn’t an official statement given to police, so--”
“overruled,” the judge says shortly, face stony, “if woods, redchester and forrest can provide substantial evidence of this claim, i’ll allow it.”
elle smiles, glancing over her shoulder -- the bouncer from the club is sat in the fourth row. “we can provide that.”
“so, miss harding,” emmett begins, overtaking freddie smoothly. they work like a well oiled machine, flickering back and forth between the three of them with no competition or desire to cling to the spotlight. “can you explain the evidence we found at your address?”
“the gun is my dad’s,” she says, running both hands through her hair. everyone in the courtroom that’s been spending any time with maria knows that this is a nervous tick, and that isn’t lost on any lawyer, “and the shoes and gloves are mine. i wore them the night caleb was shot.”
“so, did you come into contact with the body at all?” elle asks, head tilting very slightly to the left.
“then why,” freddie begins, voice commanding, “was the dna of the victim found in trace on your shoes, miss harding?”
maria seems to shut down, shoulders slumping uselessly.
“and why,” emmett picks up, “did we find fabric from your torn gloves on the weapon?”
“and why,” elle finalises, regarded with as much awe as her male counterparts, “are miss dubois’ prints missing from the aforementioned weapon?”
she seems to have no answer.
“objection,” her lawyer barks again, looking furious. “the evidence they’re referring to was obtained without a warrant--”
“overruled. woods, redchester and forrest were invited onto the premises by miss harding. they then granted entry to officers of the law once the evidence was uncovered, and were supervised by lieutenant robert burns, sfpd, at the time. if he vouches so, the proceeds were completely legal. continue.”
freddie turns to lock eyes with the lieutenant, jaw squared and ticking.
“the gun we found at your address was a .357 magnum, correct? six chambers for six bullets. the victim was shot seven times, with a short period between the penultimate and last shots fired, with a .357 magnum. were you armed, the night of the murder, miss harding?” elle asks.
maria has begun to cry, openly, freely. “i can’t believe--”
“the media called this act a crime of passion,” emmett interrupts, gesturing to a newspaper clipping on the table before them, “but i don’t think that’s quite true. i think the assailant took the time to reload her weapon, because she greatly overestimated how difficult it would be to watch someone bleed to death.”
“i think it’s safe to assume that you followed the victim out of the club under the guise of going to the bathroom,” freddie says, now allowing himself to pace back and forth. “i think you followed him out and shot him in the back as he stood in the alleyway behind midnight tease. i think that you emptied that gun into his chest and struggled with watching him cling to life, and so you reloaded with the bullets in your purse and put one last bullet between his eyes. that’s why there are five bullets still in that gun, which is covered in the fibres from your torn gloves, isn’t it, miss harding?”
elle flips a file in her hands, drawing out a still from the cctv footage and holding it in the air. “you snuck back in with these two girls and hid out in the bathroom until you heard someone else come in. you then spoke to them, planted that you had been trying to contact alice after her departure, and rejoined your friends.”
once she knows she’s lost, maria’s entire face changes. her tears stop, the tracks still glistening on her cheeks. looking almost feral, she snarls, jutting out her chin defiantly. “you’re so sure i planned this whole thing? that i shot caleb because i wanted him dead?”
alice cries out, though it’s muffled by her hand.
“i didn’t want to shoot caleb. he was my friend. alice was just already gone by the time i got out there.”
murmurs ripple through the courtroom, though no one moves. maria harding’s confession is not over.
“when you’re a ballerina, it’s -- i wanted her out of the way. i’m her understudy -- i was told, and i quote, ‘if anything happened to alice, it would be you replacing her’, and you can write that down in your fucking minutes. nothing was going to happen to her, so i was going to make it happen.”
it’s like a car crash -- no one wants to watch, but no one can look away, least of all alice. she’s crying violently, both hands pressed over her mouth, but her gaze doesn’t waver from her collegue’s face.
maria just keeps going, fueled by that same intense passion that had caused her to wield a gun. “caleb was a dick to alice. i knew that. our friends knew that. it wasn’t a secret, but no one was going to do anything about it.” her attention turns to the court, the jury. “you all just let it happen. i knew that if he was hurt, alice would look like she had motive.” she leans forward, and, to the horror of everyone in the room, she begins to smile. “if you think about it, i stepped up. i saved her.” for the first time, maria’s eyes turn on alice, stare piercing and intense. “you’re welcome, ally.”
with that, she’s handcuffed, escorted from the room as the judge adjourns the court. alice slumps in her chair, still crying, almost breathless with fear and relief and sorrow. freddie sits by her, stunned into silence, patting her shoulder reassuringly.
there’s so much dead air in the room it’s as if caleb himself is standing over them. there are two things that alice dubois knows for sure, in this weightless, otherworldly moment after her trial: one, she is free to go. two, as sick as it makes her feel, maria harding was right.
