Killer Nurse Read Free Page A

Saenz’s behalf. . . . he crossed the line by berating the state’s witnesses as ‘crazy’ and ‘liars.’”
    However, if Deaton had raised doubts about the prosecutor’s evidence, and if his scapegoat theory about Fortune 500 DaVita held sway in the minds of the jury of working-class East Texans, then how he’d come across in closing arguments was moot. His job was to get his client off, and if he accomplished that, he would be a hero, at least to some.
    The jury began deliberations at one thirty and the hours dragged. Little clusters of people—prosecutors, investigators, family members of the victims, and friends of the defense attorney there to support him—gathered all around the second floor of the courthouse.
    Close to five in the afternoon, the normal time that the jury left, a note came from the Saenz jury that they planned to deliberate until seven that night, but when seven came, the jurors left without having yet reached a verdict. Family members and friends of Saenz said this was the longest night in their lives.
    At nine the next morning, the jury reconvened, but the morning dragged by with no verdict. The same conversations as the day before swept through the groups: “Do you think she’s guilty?” “Will the jury let her go?” But most of all, “How long do you think the jury will take?”
    Although no one had an answer to this question, most believed that the jury would have a verdict by that evening, but this was more of a desire than outright knowledge.
    After lunch on Friday, word passed from one group to another that the jury had taken care of three of the six charges. This seemed to revive the spirits of those waiting, until someone mentioned that it may not mean anything—it depended on which charges they’d done. The person pointed out that one of those charges contained five murders. In order to convict Saenz of the capital murder charge, the jury would have to find her guilty of at least two of the five murders.
    Time passed like watching a turtle race. Some people attempted to work or read, but they, too, didn’t fare well with their tasks. People’s nerves were tottering on the edge, and those emotions weren’t conducive to anything that required concentration.
    Finally, at three thirty, word swept through the second floor that the jury was almost done, which sparked a mass of cell phone calls to pass on the news. Still, it wasn’t until Saenz, her family, and attorney showed shortly thereafter that real hope began to thread its way through the gathering.
    Anticipation rose even higher when a long line began to form outside the courthouse doors. TV reporters with camera crews crowded close, or stood on the steps out of the way, where they had a better view of the people waiting to get into the courtroom. Sheriff’s deputies were again on hand blocking the doors with their handheld metal detectors.
    Anticipation crackled up and down the line that reached all the way to the end of the second floor. The news began to leap from mouth to mouth. The jury had reached a verdict.
    Suddenly, the courtroom doors opened, and the noise in the hallway vanished.
    As the line inched forward, the only noise became the loud beeps from the metal detectors, which had been turned to their most sensitive settings.
    Saenz’s immediate family took up their stations in the first two rows behind the defense table on the left; just behind them sat Lesa and Vann Kelley, the husband and wife investigative team hired by the defense. Along with them were friends of the defense attorney and friends and supporters from Saenz’s church.
    The right-hand side, behind the prosecution table, filled with spectators and people who had assisted in the prosecution, but most of the seats were taken by the true victims in this case—family members of the people Saenz was accused of killing. Their faces showed the strain