Presumption of Innocence

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Brunelle examined the note taped to the impressive front door of the Montgomerys' suburban home. Its neatly penned letters were bathed in the red and blue strobe of the cop cars the neighbors never thought they'd see in their subdivision.

"The parents went inside, didn't they?" Brunelle asked without taking his eyes from the warning.

"Of course they did," answered Detective Chen. "The poor fools. Now they'll never get that sight out of their heads."

Brunelle shook his head. "That's too bad," he said. "You and I get paid to forget, at least once the case is over. Forget and move on to the next one."

Chen put a hand on Brunelle's shoulder. "You're gonna have trouble forgetting this one, Dave."

Brunelle frowned. He was a prosecutor with the King County Prosecutor's Office. He'd been there nearly twenty years, working his way up from shoplifting, through drug possession and burglary, to robberies and assaults, and finally homicides. He'd tried over a hundred cases and handled literally thousands more. He had to forget the details of each, at least a little bit, to be able to prosecute the next. He didn't want to get his facts mixed up in front of a jury.

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