Reynolds was a butcher. He’d go for the max, ignore the drug problem that had warped Julian’s judgment, and paint him as a hardened criminal. Julian would be broken on the wheel of a system that had no room for the word mitigation .
“Neither,” she said. “I’m here to prosecute you.” the prosecutor
Her secret wasn’t theatrics or a photographic memory for case law. It was a single, unnerving belief she held from her first day as a junior ADA: Everyone leaves a fingerprint. Not on the evidence, but on the truth. Reynolds was a butcher