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Alexandra swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Let’s talk about that. Let’s talk about the damage the McIntosh Police Department did to you.”
Garrett walked back to the podium.
“Alexandra, can you tell the court how old you are?”
“Eighteen.”
“And how old were you on the night of January fifteenth?”
“Seventeen.”
“You turned eighteen a week later, correct?”
“Yes. January twenty-second.”
“So, that made you a senior in high school at the time this all took place?”
“Yes.”
“After you were released from juvenile detention and all the charges against you were dismissed, did you go back to school for the spring semester?”
Alexandra shook her head. “No, I didn’t go back.”
“Why not?”
“I tried but there were too many news cameras and reporters waiting for me at school each day.”
“News cameras and reporters? Waiting at your high school each morning to ask you about the night your family was killed?”
“Yes.”
“Accusing you, in fact, of getting away with murder.”
“Some of them, yes.”
“And other students at your high school, how did they treat you?”
“I lost all my friends because . . . I guess it was too hard to hang around with me. Kids called me Empty Eyes.”
“Empty Eyes. Where did that name come from?”
“The reporter who was there that night . . . the night the police walked me out of my house . . . she captured this image of me and in it my eyes look hollow and . . . empty, I guess. So she started calling me Empty Eyes during her reports.”
“Lovely. Was it difficult to be labeled that way?”
“It was.”
“Too difficult, in fact, for a teenaged high school student who had just lost her family to handle,” Garrett said, looking at the jury. “So you stopped going to school?”
“Yes.”
“But you did complete your senior year and graduate, correct?”
“Yes. I completed the spring semester through home schooling and tutoring.”
“But you never went back to school?”
