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“The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”
Guilt was a tattoo that weighed two hundred pounds. As long as I fought for those clients I believed in, I was slowly shedding that weight. It would take time. I hoped and prayed that Christine would be waiting for me at the end.
THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS a bad case. Only a bad client. Judge Harry Ford, my mentor, had taught me that a long time ago. He’d been proven right. Time and time again. Sitting in a leather chair beside Bobby Solomon, I was reminded of Harry’s advice.
The killer had folded a one-dollar bill to look like a butterfly and put it in Carl Tozer’s mouth.
Pure gut instinct that the bill in Carl’s mouth was the key to the whole damn case.
Research at the National Registry of Exonerations tells us that out of every twenty-five people who are convicted and given a death sentence in the United States, one of them is innocent.
they call him Dollar Bill.
That’s a lame name for a serial killer
He didn’t need to feel anything for anyone because he wasn’t like anyone else. They were all beneath him. He was special.
I placed a dollar on the windowsill, stared hard at it, and read aloud the Latin phrase on the banner that fluttered across the eagle on the great seal. E pluribus unum. Out of many—one.
Three really is the magic number. It holds some kind of important place in our minds and we see it all the time in our culture and daily lives.
The number three equates to some form of truth or fact in our subconscious. It is somehow divine. Jesus rose on the third day. The Holy Trinity. Third time lucky. Three strikes and you’re out.
You have to ignore the wreckage and look beyond it for the monster.”
