Best Girl Read Free

entry:
    November 19, 1994
    Hey, Universe, No one will ever believe I’m innocent; I have to accept that. I’ll never see little Mandy again, I have to accept that too. I have to move on. I’ll never stop loving Freddy. The only thing I have left of him is his guitar. I keep seeing us when we were teenagers and he taught me the chords. I hold it close to me and I can almost smell him in the wood. The women here like to listen to me play. They say it calms them down. Christmas is coming, and they want me to give a little concert. Maybe a sing-along. They hum the songs when I practice. I’m trying to figure out the chords to some carols. Maybe after Christmas we can put together a choir! Wouldn’t that be rich? I’d be teaching music again.
    Another musician! I had genes on both sides.
    Diane said they found the notebook under her mattress. That meant she didn’t want anyone reading it. So when she said she was innocent, it was like she was talking to herself. Didn’t that mean she was telling the truth?
    I found at least twenty notes from the women in another manila envelope, some scrawled and childlike, some neat and carefully written.
    Dear Mandy, The cops should burn in hell for putting your mom in here. She was no killer. Patty.
    Dear Mandy, Your mom was the best. Rest in Peace. Lottie.
    Dear Mandy, If it wasn’t for your mom and the choir, I’d be dead. There was nothing to live for till I started to sing. I owe her. Dale.
    Dear Mandy, Your mom shouldna been here. It was wrong cause she didn’t kill no one. Her music helped me go on. Vi.
    There was a business-sized envelope in the bag. The letterhead said it was from a lawyer named Randall Webb. I pulled out a single page.
    Dear Carol,
    I’m afraid I have bad news. Our appeal was turned down. In his explanation, the judge said there was no new evidence, so no new trial. I’m very sorry. Sometimes the justice system isn’t fair. I know you’re innocent but have no way to prove it. I will keep in touch.
Randy
    The lawyer thought she was innocent! His opinion meant more than Diane’s and the other prisoners’, didn’t it? Maybe I wasn’t the kid of a murderer. I looked at the lawyer’s letterhead. It had his phone number. The letter was dated May 1995. Fifteen years ago, but what the heck. I hesitated, then punched in the numbers.
    A woman answered. She asked my name and, to my surprise, put me through.
    â€œHello.”
    â€œMr. Webb, I hope I’m not bothering you, but you were my mother’s lawyer years ago…”
    â€œWho’s this?”
    â€œCarol Allan’s daughter.”
    â€œIt’s Amanda?”
    â€œUh, yeah…”
    â€œI’m so sorry. I heard about her… passing. She was a class act.”
    I took that in for a second. “I hope you don’t mind—I wanted to ask you something.”
    He didn’t interrupt to tell me he was too busy.
    â€œI know it was a long time ago. But— why did the jury convict her?”
    â€œOh. That was a long time ago.” He paused and I half expected him to beg off. But then he went on.
    â€œI was straight out of law school, just finished articling. She called me first because we went to high school together.”
    â€œYou did?”
    â€œShe couldn’t afford a real lawyer.” He smirked into the phone. “She was assigned a legal-aid lawyer who didn’t give a crap. I worked with him, but it was hopeless. She lost because I didn’t know what I was doing and the real lawyer didn’t care.”
    â€œSo she didn’t do it?”
    â€œEvidence was circumstantial. The steak knife was like a million others made in China and sold by Canadian Tire. Every house had a set just like it.”
    â€œWell then…?”
    â€œThe jury didn’t like her. She wasn’t soft like some women. She came across gutsy, didn’t apologize for herself. They misread