Julie James - About That Night

First and foremost, I owe tremendous thanks to John and Chris, two assistant U.S. attorneys who were unbelievably generous with their time in answering my many, many questions about federal criminal procedure and life as an AUSA. Since my days as a federal appellate clerk, Ive had the utmost respect for the talented prosecutors who serve in those positions.

Special thanks as well to Special Agent Ross Rice and Assistant U.S. Attorney Russell Samborn, who opened the doors to their offices and gave me glimpses of day-to-day life at both the Chicago division of the FBI and the U.S. Attorneys Office for the Northern District of Illinois. Im grateful also to Dave Scalzo for sharing his business expertise and to Jen Laudadio for, well, you know what.

To Elyssa Papa and Kati Dancythank you so much for your wonderful feedback and insights, and for working with some really tight deadlines. Simply put, you ladies rock.

Thanks as well to my editor, Wendy McCurdy, and my agent, Susan Crawford, for their understanding, helpfulness, and patience during what turned out to be a very eventful year for me. I also want to express my gratitude to the entire team at Berkleyall of whom do such a fantastic jobincluding my incredible publicist, Erin Galloway, and Christine Masters, copy editor extraordinaire.

Finally, to my husband: I know I always thank you in my books, butwowI think I may actually owe you my first-born child after this one. Good thing hes already yours, or Id probably be in a lot of trouble with DCFS for that arrangement.

May 2003

University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign

SHE HAD SURVIVED.

Pressed against the wood-paneled wall of the bar, her chin resting on her hand, Rylann Pierce listened as her friends chatted on around her, quite content for the first time in a month to think about nothing whatsoever.

Along with five of her law school classmates, she sat at a crowded table on the second floor of the Clybourne, one of the few campus bars frequented by highbrow graduate students who demanded that their watered-down, four-dollar drinks be served in actual glasses instead of plastic. Everyone in the group was in the same section as Rylann, which meant theyd all completed their last final exam, Criminal Procedure, late that afternoon. Spirits were high and boisterousat least boisterous by law-student standardspunctuated only by occasional lows when someone realized a point theyd missed during the obligatory post-exam recap.

Someone nudged her elbow, interrupting her reverie. Hello? Anyone there?

The question came from Rylanns roommate, Rae Mendoza, who was seated at her right.

Im here. Justpicturing myself at the pool. Rylann tried to hold on to the mirage for a few moments longer. Its sunny and seventy-five degrees. Ive got some kind of tropical drink with one of those little umbrellas in it, and Im reading a bookone I dont have to highlight or outline in the margins.

They make those kinds of books?

If memory serves. Rylann exchanged a conspiratorial smile with Rae. Like many of their classmates, theyd both spent nearly every waking hour of the last four weeks outlining class notes and textbooks, taking practice exams, staring bleary-eyed at Emanuel Law Outlines into the wee hours of the night, and meeting with study groupsall in preparation for four three-hour tests that would help determine the course of their future legal careers. No pressure there.

The rumor was that the second and third years got progressively easier, which would be nicethere was this interesting activity called sleep Rylann had heard of, and she was thinking about trying it out. Perfect timing, too. She had a week off before her summer job started, during which she planned to do nothing more strenuous than roll herself out of bed every day by noon and mosey over to the universitys outdoor pool, which was open to students.

I hate to burst the bubble on your daydream, but Im pretty sure they dont allow alcoholic drinks at IMPE, Rae said, referring to the universitys Intramural Physical Education building, which housed said pool.

Rylann waved off such pesky details. Ill throw a mai tai in my College of Law thermos and tell people that its iced tea. If campus security gives me any trouble, Ill scare them off with my quasi-legal credentials and remind them of the Fourth Amendments prohibitions against illegal searches and seizures.

Wow. Do you know how big of a law school geek you just sounded like?

Unfortunately, she did. Do you think any of us will ever be normal again?

Rae considered this. Im told that somewhere around third year, we lose the urge to cite the Constitution in everyday conversation.

Thats promising, Rylann said.

But seeing how youre more of a law geek than most, it might take you longer.

Remember that conversation last night when I said I was going to miss you this summer? I take it back.

Rae laughed and slung her arm around Rylanns shoulders. Aw, you know youre going to be so bored here without me.

Rylann was overcome by a sudden pang of sentimentality. Now that finals were over, Rae and nearly all their law school friends were heading back home. Rae would be in Chicago for the next ten weeks, working double shifts at a bartending job that sounded glamorous and fun and that would pay her enough money to cover nearly a year of tuition. Rylann, on the other hand, had scored a summer law internship with the U.S. Attorneys Office for the Central District of Illinois. While the internship was a prestigious and coveted position among law studentsparticularly among first-yearsshe would be paid at the not-so-glamorous GS-5 salary, which would earn her little more than what she needed to cover her rent and living expenses for the summer. Perhaps, if she were particularly frugal, shed have enough left over for next semesters textbooks. Or at least one of them. Those darn things were expensive.

But despite the meager GS-5 wages, she was thrilled about the internship. As much as she grumbled about her student loans, she wasnt going to law school for the money. She had a six-year academic and career planshe was big on having plansand her summer internship was the next step in it. After graduation, she hoped to land a clerkship with a federal judge, and then shed apply to the U.S. Attorneys Office.

Although many law students had no clue what type of law they wanted to practice after graduation, this was not the case with Rylann. Shed known since she was ten that she wanted to become a criminal prosecutor and had never wavered in that, despite the lure of money offered by big law firms. Sure, that paid the billsand then somebut civil litigation seemed too dry and impersonal for her tastes. Corporation X suing Company Y for millions of dollars in a lawsuit that could go on for years without anyone giving a damn except for the lawyers who billed three thousand hours a year working on it. No thank you.

Rylann wanted to be in court every day, in the thick of things, trying cases that meant something. And in her mind, not much could be more meaningful than putting criminals behind bars.

A male voice coming from across the table interrupted her thoughts. Three months in Champaign-Urbana. Remind me how the girl whos second in our law school class couldnt work herself a better deal.

The voice belonged to their friend Shane, who, like everyone else at the table, had a drink in his hand and a good-humored glow about him. Rylann could guess the reason for the glow. In addition to being done with finals, summer break meant that Shane got to return home to Des Moines and see his girlfriend, with whom he was adorably smittenalthough being a guy, he naturally tried to conceal that fact.