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  She turned her attention to Katie, measuring her in silence before she spoke to the county attorney. "If the prosecution's ready, you may begin."

  George Callahan strolled toward the jury box, as if he'd long been friends with every member. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "This is a trial for murder--so where's the accused? Surely that little Amish girl sitting over there, wearing her apron and her little white cap, couldn't have killed a fly, much less another human being." He shook his head. "You all live in this county. You all see the Amish in their buggies and at their farm stands. If you know nothing else about them, you at least have picked up on the fact that they're a highly religious group that keep to themselves and don't make waves. I mean, really-- when was the last time you heard of an Amish person being brought up on felony charges?

  "Last year, that's when. When the idyllic bubble of Amish life was burst by two of its youth, peddling cocaine. And today, when you hear how this young woman cold-bloodedly killed her own newborn infant."

  He ran his hand along the rail of the jury box. "Shocking, isn't it? It's hard to believe any mother would kill her own child, much less a girl who looks as innocent as the one sitting over there. Well, let me put your mind to rest. During the course of this trial you'll learn that the defendant is not innocent--in fact, she's a proven liar. For six years, she's been sneaking off her parents' farm to spend nights and weekends on a college campus, where she lets down her hair and dresses in jeans and tight sweaters and parties like any other teenager. She lied about that--just like she lied about the fact that she'd gotten pregnant during one of these wild weekends; just like she lied about committing murder."

  He turned toward Katie, pinned her with his gaze. "So what's the truth? The truth is that shortly after two A.M. on July tenth, the defendant awakened with labor pains. The truth is that she got up, tiptoed to the barn, and in silence gave birth to a live baby boy. The truth is that she knew if the baby was discovered, life as she knew it would be over. She'd be thrown out of her home, out of her church, and out of her community. So the truth is, she did what she had to do to keep the lie intact-- she willfully, deliberately, and premeditatedly killed her own baby."

  George flicked his eyes away from Katie and turned back to the jury. "When you look at the defendant, look past the quaint costume. That's what she wants you to see. See instead a woman smothering a crying baby. When you listen to the defendant, pay attention to what she has to say. But remember that what comes out of her mouth can't be trusted. This so-called sweet little Amish girl hid a forbidden pregnancy, murdered a newborn with her bare hands, and fooled everyone around her while it was happening. Don't let her fool you."

  The jury was made up of eight women and four men, and I vacillated between thinking that worked for or against us. Women would be likely to feel more sympathy for an unwed teen--but more contempt for someone who killed her newborn. What it all boiled down to, of course, was how willing this particular mix of people was to look for a loophole.

  I squeezed Katie's trembling hand beneath the defense table and stood. "Mr. Callahan would like you to believe that a certain party in this courtroom is an expert when it comes to not telling the truth. And you know what? He's right. The thing is, Katie Fisher isn't that person. Actually, it's me." I raised my hand and waved it cheerfully. "Yep, guilty as charged. I'm a liar and I'm rather good at it, if I say so myself. So good that it's made me a pretty accomplished attorney. And although I'm not about to put words in the county attorney's mouth, I bet he's bent the facts a time or two himself." I raised my brows at the jury. "You guys hear all the jokes--I don't have to tell you about lawyers. Not only do we lie well, but we get paid a lot to do it."

  I leaned against the railing of the jury box. "Katie Fisher, on the other hand, doesn't lie. How do I know this, for a fact? Well, because I wanted to use a defense of temporary insanity today. I had experts who were going to stand up here and tell you that Katie didn't know what she was doing the morning she gave birth. But Katie wouldn't let me. She said she wasn't insane, and she hadn't murdered her baby. And even if it meant risking her conviction, she wanted you, the jury, to know that."

  I shrugged. "So here I am, a lawyer armed with a novel weapon--the truth. That's all I've got to contradict the prosecution's allegations: the truth, and perhaps a clearer eye. Nothing that Mr. Callahan will show you is conclusive proof, and for good reason--Katie Fisher did not murder her newborn. Having lived with her and her family now for several months, I know something that Mr. Callahan does not--that Katie Fisher is Amish, through and through. You don't 'act' Amish, like Mr. Callahan is suggesting. You live it. You are it. Through the course of this trial, you'll come to understand this complex, peaceful group, as I have. Maybe a suburban teenager would give birth and stuff the baby in the toilet, but not an Amish woman. Not Katie Fisher.

  "Now, let's look at some of Mr. Callahan's points. Did Katie sneak away repeatedly to a college town? Yes, she did--see, I'm telling you the truth. But what the prosecutor left out is why she was going there. Katie's brother, her only remaining living sibling, decided to leave the Amish church and study at college. Her father, hurt by this decision, restricted contact with this son. But family means everything to Katie, as to most Amish, and she missed her brother so much she was willing to risk anything to see him. So you see, Katie wasn't living a lie. She was maintaining a love.

  "Mr. Callahan also suggested that Katie needed to hide the illegitimate pregnancy, or else suffer being kicked out of her faith. However, you will learn that the Amish are forgiving. Even an illegitimate pregnancy would have been accepted by the church, and the infant would have grown up with more love and support than is found in many homes in our own communities."

  I turned toward Katie, who was regarding me with wide, bright eyes. "Which brings me to Mr. Callahan's final point: why, then, would Katie Fisher kill her own baby? The answer is simple, ladies and gentlemen. She didn't.

  "The judge will explain to you that to convict Katie, you have to believe the prosecution beyond a reasonable doubt. By the time this trial's over, you'll have more than a reasonable doubt, you'll have a whole wagon full of them. You will see that there's no way for the prosecution to prove that Katie killed her baby. They have no physical witnesses to the fact. They have nothing but speculation and dubious evidence.

  "On the other hand, I'm going to show you that there were a number of ways that baby might have died." I walked toward Katie, so that the jury would be staring at her as well as me. "I'm going to show you why the Amish don't commit murder. And most importantly," I finished, "I'm going to let Katie Fisher tell you the truth."

  THIRTEEN

  Lizzie Munro would never have laid odds on the fact that one day, she'd be testifying against an Amish murder suspect. The girl was sitting at the defense table next to that high-powered attorney of hers, head bowed and hands clasped like one of those godawful Precious Moments figurines Lizzie's mother liked to litter her windowsills with. Lizzie herself hated them--each angel too calculatedly cute, each shepherd boy too doe-eyed to be taken seriously. Similarly, looking at Katie Fisher gave Lizzie the overwhelming urge to turn away.

  She focused instead on George Callahan, dapper in his dark suit. "Can you state your name and address?" he asked.

  "Elizabeth Grace Munro. 1313 Grand Street, Ephrata."

  "Where are you employed?"

  "At the East Paradise Township Police Department. I'm a detective-sergeant."

  George didn't even have to ask her the questions; they'd been through this opening act so often she knew what was coming. "How long have you been a detective?"

  "For the past six years. Prior to that, I was a patrol officer for five years."

  "Can you tell us a little bit about your work, Detective Munro?"

  Lizzie leaned back in the witness chair--for her, a comfortable place. "For the most part, I investigate felony cases in East Paradise Township."

  "Roughly how many are there?"

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