in his prep-school football uniform, holding his helmet under his arm, grinning widely. It looked like a yearbook shot.
Cindy scrolled down the page, reading the lead paragraph of the new stories, thinking that this topic of woman-on-man rape was more explosive than she had expected. It had equal billing with a contentious election, a horrific category-four hurricane in Florida, and a devastating terrorist attack in the Middle East. It was as if they were celebrities.
Even as Cindy scrolled down the Google list, new stories about Marc Christopher were being added to the queue, crossing the country, jumping the pond.
The subject of female-on-male rape was controversial, for sure. She went back to the story she had posted on her crime blog and skimmed the new comments. Opinions ranged from the assertion that men couldn’t be raped, to the dismissal that women who were charged with rape were lying, to the outlier opinion that women had been raping men for centuries and the men had never been believed.
Cindy grabbed her phone and speed-dialed Yuki.
Yuki picked up, said, “Please only good news, Cindy. I’m swamped with phone calls, e-mails, interoffice mail. It’s just crazy.”
“I called to tell you that this Marc Christopher case has struck a nerve,” Cindy said. “I’m surprised.”
Yuki said, “Me, too. If this doesn’t die down, I wonder about finding an unbiased jury. I’m worried that the defense will ask for a change of venue.”
“Yeah,” said Cindy. “Calling all people who live under rocks.”
Yuki laughed and said, “That’s not funny.” She laughed again. “Thanks for giving me the redundant heads-up.”
The two friends said good-byes.
Cindy’s computer rang out with each new alert until she turned off the sound. She had scooped other media with the story, but now The People v. Hill was taking on a life of its own.
CHAPTER 21
YUKI OPENED CINDY’S crime blog and read the impassioned reactions to the case against Briana Hill, which hadn’t yet been brought to trial.
After that she googled Briana Hill.
When she had read enough articles and commentary to gather the points of view that would very likely be reflected in the future jury, she went down the hall to the cubicle belonging to Arthur Baron. Baron was about fifty, and he had just joined the DA’s office from the in-house legal department of BW&T, a huge utility company.
When Yuki was in her late twenties, she had made a similar move, leaving a cushy corporate job for a lower-paying job with the district attorney. She had worked harder and longer for less, but this work for the people of San Francisco made her feel that her time and labor were worthwhile.
Arthur had e-mailed her this morning, saying he wanted to talk to her about the Hill case. Now she knocked on a wall of his cubicle, and Art looked up from his computer. He was wiry, average height, gray at the temples. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, a plain blue shirt, a tie, and dark slacks, and his jacket was neatly hung over the back of his chair.
“Yuki. Come in.”
“Got a few minutes, Art?”
“Sure. Thanks for coming by.”
Yuki took a seat next to the desk in the small work space and asked Arthur what he knew about the case against Briana Hill.
“What I’ve read in the press and overheard in the hallway.”
“What do you think?”
“Congrats that you’re going to trial. I’m jealous.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Let me make some room here for you, why don’t I?” Baron said, moving files and pens away from the desk next to the side chair. Then he said, “Why? Because it’s a terrific case. Are you looking for help with the trial?”
“Might be,” said Yuki.
“I hate to be presumptuous, but if you’re looking for a second chair, I’m raising my hand.” And then he did it.
Yuki smiled. She had spoken to Arthur Baron a few times since he came to the DA’s office. She knew he was smart. She knew he had a background in litigation. He was straightforward and had a sense of humor. She just plain liked him.