Kate ended her day by boxing up Tate’s files: mostly crime scene reports and a psych evaluation. It was like holding Tate’s life in her hands, and she felt an urgent need to wash her hands and face. Being in the proximity of it made her feel unclean.

His case had been the toughest of her career: besides the grisly details there was the total lack of remorse that he had shown in his trial. Tate oozed evil and the jury knew it.

As she taped the box shut, symbolically using much more tape than necessary to seal it tight, she noticed a book on her desk. It was titled “Our Sweet Boy”, and she realized it was his baby book, submitted by his parents. She hadn’t seen it before.

She sent the sealed box off to Records and went home silently. She was drained and hungry, but she dropped onto the couch and began to read.

“Smiles easily at 3 months”, “Gets along with everyone”, “loves his stuffed panda”, “wants to help Momma cook”, “loves to cuddle”, “laughs all the time”.

Kate had never been more frightened.