Page 108 of Monk
Photographic evidence of injuries (bruising, lacerations)
No witnesses to the alleged assault
Defense Strategy:
I paused, my jaw tightening. This was a classic “he said, she said” case. The kind that could go either way depending on the jury, the prosecutor, and how well I could dismantle the victim’s credibility, but there was one thing that could end this before it ever went to trial.
DNA. If the DNA recovered from the rape kit didn’t match John’s, the case would collapse.
But if it did... I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe.
It won’t match. It can’t match.John had admitted to sleeping with Ruby before—weeks ago, at the clubhouse party. But he’d sworn he hadn’t touched her the night she claimed he raped her.
I believed him. I had to believe him, but belief wasn’t enough in the courtroom. I needed evidence. I needed proof, and I needed to find out what the hell was really going on.
I opened my email and started a new message.
Subject: Need a favor
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keys.
Nicola Tripplethorne, also known as “Mischief,” to those who knew her well enough, was one of the best investigators I had ever worked with. We met during my time at the San Francisco DA’s office, back when I was still green and idealistic and thought the system actually worked.
Mischief had been the one to show me how the systemreallyworked. How to find the truth buried under layers of lies, corruption, and bureaucratic red tape.
She was brilliant. Ruthless. And she didn’t ask questions she didn’t need answers to.
If anyone could help me, it was her.
I started typing.
Mischief,
I need your help. I’m defending someone on a rape charge in Oklahoma. The case stinks. The victim’s story has holes, the timing doesn’t add up, and I think someone’s pulling strings behind the scenes. I need you to dig into the victim’s financials, phone records, anything that might show she was paid or coerced into making the accusation.
Victim’s name: Ruby Cooper. DOB: 03/15/1996. Last known address: Lawton, OK.
Let me know what you find.
—L
I hit send before I could second-guess myself, then I sat back in my chair and took another sip of coffee, staring at the screen as I waited.
Mischief was usually quick to respond—she lived on her computer, her fingers always flying across the keyboard, chasing down leads and unraveling conspiracies, but I couldn’tguarantee she wasn’t away, working a case. So I forced myself to be patient.
I opened another tab and started researching Oklahoma’s rape shield laws, the rules of evidence for sexual assault cases, and the precedents that might help or hurt John’s defense.
I was three pages deep into a case summary when my laptop chimed.
