Alicia hung up. She stared at the photo on her mantle: her, Peter, Zach, and Grace, taken the day Peter was sworn in as Governor. Peter was in prison now—a different kind of fraud. Her son hadn’t spoken to her in two years. Her daughter had moved to Zurich.
"Diane—"
She walked away. Diane did not call her name. alicia florrick states attorney
The jury deliberated for four hours.
"He is now. He’s been running dark-money super PACs for the last three years. The indictment alleges he falsified ballistic reports in exchange for campaign contributions. Specifically, a report that exonerated a Chicago cop who shot an unarmed teenager. That cop’s father is a major donor to the same PACs McVeigh runs." Alicia hung up
"He falsified one report. One. He said the bullet trajectory was 'inconclusive' when it was damning. He did it because the cop’s father promised to fund a youth ballistics lab at Northwestern. Kurt saw it as a trade-off: one ambiguous footnote for a generation of trained forensic scientists."
The room was silent. Kurt McVeigh was her husband’s best friend. He was the man who had saved her son, Zach, from a car accident. He was also the man whose wife, Diane Lockhart, had given Alicia her first job back from the ashes. Her son hadn’t spoken to her in two years
Diane met her eyes. "He said, 'Then I suppose I’ll have to live with that.'"