Previously in "2nd Time Around":

In 1996, Sarah Griffin walked in on her neighbor, who had murdered his family.


2014:

Sitting in the back of the car, Sarah dug through her handbag for her cell phone. She found it, pulling it out from beneath her pack of Tic Tacs. It was a simple model as she had never gotten used to those fancy computer phones that everyone had these days. For that matter, she had never quite gotten used to cell phones. She did come around to seeing the value of being able to reach her friends and family while she was on the go and vice-versa. That still took a few years considering how a cell phone had done its part to screw up over a decade of her life and then some. Still, she understood the value.

True, the device's simplicity meant it wasn't exactly up-to-date with its accessible features, but Sarah didn't mind. She didn't text. There was a little bump on the number 5 key as was the case with every phone on Earth. She could use that to orient herself on the keypad. Plus, any number she needed was written in Braille on a piece of paper in her handbag. She knew half of those by heart. She didn't need her cheat sheet for this one, dialing the number and waiting for an answer. The other people in the car let her be.

The call was soon answered. His tone indicated immediate recognition.

"Hey."

"Hi, Lewis," Sarah said.

"How's everything?" Lewis asked.

Sarah proceeded to catch her brother up on everything since her arrival at Long Island's McArthur Airport in Central Islip the previous evening, where her older sister, Amelia, had met her.

"How's everybody doing?" Lewis asked. "You got a good reunion going on up there?"

"Sort of," Sarah said. "As always, it's tricky to get everyone together. How are you doing? Today's your first day on the new job, right?"

"Yeah. I'm at the station now. I got back from my first call a little while ago."

"Really? How did it go?"

"Same as always. A fire's a fire. I'm just fighting it in a different way now."

"So, how's the new way working out for you?"

"It's definitely different. It's kind of weird because the engine company's still responding every time some idiot college kids set off a smoke detector because they're too dumb to make popcorn. In all honesty, I don't miss those days."

Lewis chuckled.

"I do still look up when the alarm goes off," he admitted. "But I don't jump up or anything like that."

"Well," Sarah said, "be careful, please."

"Always am. Listen, I've gotta run. A bunch of the guys are setting up a game of darts and I've got money on this. Fifty bucks are in my pocket if Kevin doesn't even hit the board."

Hearing someone complaining in the background, Sarah laughed and said they'd chat some other time. They bid each other well and the call ended.

"How's he doing?" Grace Collins asked from the car's front passenger seat.

"He's good," Sarah replied. "He's starting in a truck company now."

Her younger brother, Lewis Donald Griffin, was a firefighter with the Baltimore City Fire Department, assigned to Battalion 4. He had been with Engine 4 for the past six Some-odd years, ever since his graduation from the fire academy. He had just transferred to Truck 29, which was coincidentally quartered in the same fire station on Cold Spring Lane.

Sarah was close with her brother. They talked on the phone all the time and he had come and visited her at Fluvanna down in Virginia as often as he could. His visits were even more frequent now that she was living in an assisted living center in Baltimore. She worked in the library at Towson University, which was near his fire station. While she was locked up, he sent money whenever he could, a gesture which was never easy given his career choice. Their older sister had been in a better financial situation and could therefore spare more. Sarah appreciated everything she had gotten and was later able to pay it back with plenty of interest.

Her older sister, Amelia Janet Kelmer, was a public relations representative. Ten years ago, she'd received a lucrative job offer with an advertising firm in New York. she and her husband, Michael, moved to Long Island with their son, later adding two baby girls to the batch. Sarah didn't resent her sister for the move as she would have probably done the same thing if the roles were reversed. But she did miss her and was thankful for the time they were able to spend together, brief as it was.

"We'll be there in about ten minutes," The driver, Doug Ernest Walker, said as he stopped at a red light. Apart from his greeting during the pickup at Amelia's house, this was the only thing he'd said. It was just his way.

Sarah nodded. Her thoughts turned to what was to come. She had been to a dozen or so events like this. All of them had her as the guest of honor and she was to talk about her life and the challenges she'd faced over the past eighteen years.

Sarah still remembered most of what happened. These days, some events were fuzzier than others. She could no longer recall the full day when the jury handed down their shocking verdict.

"We find the defendant guilty, Your Honor," The jury forewoman had stated.

That line would be imprinted in Sarah's brain forever. The forewoman, four other women, and seven men came to this unanimous decision after two days of deliberations. Sarah remembered that horrific phrase as though she were hearing it all over again. Everything else from that day remained fuzzy.

The jury would make an even more terrible decision a few weeks later. This would change the course of Sarah's life forever. She remembered a little more about this part ...

1998:

"... Miss Griffin," The judge said, "please rise so I may pronounce your sentence."
Sarah did so with some difficulty due to the handcuffs and leg irons now required. Ever since the jury had found her guilty of killing all four members of the Parker family, security in the courtroom had become a bigger concern. any presumption of innocence the constitution afforded her was moot and the court officers were taking extra precautions.

Next to Sarah, the defense attorney, Emily Walters, also rose and briefly locked eyes with her client. They exchanged a brief, almost indiscernible nod. For the past several weeks, they had been in court together, trying to ward off what was now inevitable. Before that, they'd spent months together as they prepared for the trial.

At the prosecution's table, the assistant Commonwealth's Attorney, Heath Knowles, sat quietly, waiting. He looked confident and this was unnerving. He'd given a strong performance when presenting his case and had already gotten his way once. Many expected he would again.

"Miss Griffin," The judge said, "Do you have anything you'd like to say before I pronounce your sentence?"

"I just want to say I'm really sorry that any of this ever happened," Sarah replied, turning her head as best she could to survey the spectators in the courtroom. "I wish things had been different ... I wish I could turn back the clock. But all I can do now is ask you for some measure of forgiveness and maybe some mercy."

She looked back at the judge and fell silent, waiting.

"Miss Griffin," the judge said. "Throughout the course of this trial, you have expressed sorrow and remorse for your actions. You have apologized for the harm you have caused and for the pain you have inflicted. However, you have never fully owned up to the crimes of which you have now been convicted in spite of the evidence against you. You have instead chosen to deny certain charges outright. You have never shown a sense of responsibility for the totality of this tragedy and the heinous and cold-blooded nature with which it was carried out. For this reason, I cannot responsibly consider any feelings of sorrow and remorse which you exhibit here today, regardless of their authenticity."

Sarah blinked. Emily had prepared her for the possibility of this rebuke, but these words still stung. It was clear the judge did not understand and wouldn't hear her out now.

Therefore," the judge continued, "by the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Virginia, I am upholding the jury's recommendation. I hereby sentence you to death by means of lethal injection or, by your own election, electrocution in accordance with the law of this commonwealth. You are to be transferred to the Fluvanna Correctional Center for Women to await execution, to be on a date set by this court once you have exhausted all avenues of appeal."

He banged his gavel, the sound reverberating throughout the room. A low murmur erupted as people discussed what they had just seen and heard.

Though she knew this was the most likely outcome of this court appearance, Sarah was still stunned. Who wouldn't be? Behind her, her sister and mother wept. She took a quick glance back at them before the court officers marched her away from the table. Words failed all three of them. She also saw her father and brother, both of whom tried to look stoic, though Lewis also looked ready to dart out of the room to cry in private.

Before the court officers pulled her along, Sarah again locked eyes with Emily Walters. The woman had tried so hard to prevent any of this. She looked crushed. She had never stated whether she believed Sarah's version of events or if she was only defending her out of a sense of civic duty. With the verdict and sentence official, any beliefs in guilt or innocence didn't matter anymore. Emily Walters looked remorseful for having failed her client.

"I'm sorry," She said.

"It's okay," Sarah told her. "It's not your fault."

She wished the woman had found some way to prevent this. There had to be something she missed. But Sarah couldn't stay mad at her. She tried. The prosecution somehow just had a better case. Sarah wanted to know how that happened. After all, she was innocent.

"Let's go," a court officer insisted.

As she was taken away, Sarah heard someone running out of the courtroom ...

2014:

"... There it is," Grace said, pointing out the building. It wasn't tough for her to recognize the Touro Law Center in Central Islip. The giant sign on the side of the road did help.

Doug turned into the building's parking lot. He drove around, looking for two adjacent empty spaces. Sarah had a placard which would allow him to park in a handicapped spot, but it was only valid in Maryland. They could probably get away with using it here, but Doug didn't want to risk it in a rental car. He didn't want to deal with the paperwork and the issue was avoided when he found a pair of spots in the far corner of the lot.

"We should exercise more anyway," Grace remarked as she and Doug got out of the car. "It's a sign."

Even Sarah knew the woman didn't have an ounce of fat on her despite her love for French fries. It really wasn't fair. Sarah wasn't overweight, but due to her physical circumstances, she had to watch what she ate or she could make herself very sick.

Sarah made sure her phone was back in her handbag while Doug popped open the trunk and removed her folded-up wheelchair. He took a minute to set it up, its metallic pieces clinking as he fumbled with them, and pushed it over to her door. The irony was that the adjacent empty space gave them more room to open the door than a handicapped spot would have.

Sarah reached out and felt for the chair as Doug put on its brakes. Last thing they needed was for the thing to just roll away on them.

Having done this so often before, Sarah slid to the edge of the seat and swung her legs out onto the pavement. Knowing they wouldn't support her at all, she grabbed the car door with one hand. With her other hand, she reached out across her wheelchair to grab the far armrest. She then pulled herself up and around, bracing herself on the armrest until she was in the right spot to let gravity take over so she'd plop down in the chair. When she was first learning how to do this, she often landed on one of the chair's armrests instead of the seat. Despite her lack of feeling anything from these impacts, they were never fun. Now, she knew how to judge her position in relation to her chair based on how her arms were bent.

When she was seated, she adjusted herself on the cushions and pulled the seatbelt across her lap. She couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't fall out and appreciated this preventative measure. She'd experienced more than enough falls in her life.

One leg at a time, she used her hands to lift her feet into the chair's footrests. Once she was settled, she stopped to catch her breath and rest her arms. Transferring in and out of her chair was always strenuous.

When she felt better again, she unfolded her white cane and indicated she was all set, keeping her handbag on her lap.

"We're gonna head over this way," Doug told her, knowing the phrase "this way" wouldn't help her on its own. "Turn right and go straight."

Following his instructions and the sound of his voice, Sarah used a joystick to operate the motorized wheelchair. She swung the cane out in front of her to check for possible obstacles.

As they reached the curb, Doug walked up the cut-in portion, stomping with one large foot to indicate its location for Sarah. She came over and ran the tip of her cane along the edge of the curb, being sure to know exactly where the ramp was before she proceeded.

Having once run for exercise, Sarah at first found it difficult to slow down. She'd use the cane to know what was around her and almost always missed something due to hasty, haphazard inspections. She'd learned her lesson when she hadn't properly determined the position of a curb cut and she and her wheelchair tipped over as she attempted to ascend it. She'd managed to get one arm up to absorb the worst of the fall and only suffered what doctors referred to as a "bone bruise". But the fall, the ambulance ride, and the brief stay in the emergency room were enough of a wake-up call. She still had a scar on her wrist from the accident and was lucky to not add more reminders.

Sarah thought about the scar on the inside of her other wrist. That injury had been much more serious and brought back many more bad memories. She pushed them away, wanting to have a good time today.

"Looks like the others are already here," Grace commented, looking ahead through the building's glass front doors.

"The ramp's coming up on your right," Doug said as he headed for the three steps in front of the building.

Sarah paused. Wasn't the ramp on the left? Had she remembered wrong?

"It's to the left," Grace said over her shoulder. "You're confusing her."

"Oh, sorry," Doug said. "I'm flipping my directions too many times. Gets confusing when I'm looking back at you."

"I knew there was a reason you kept her around," Sarah remarked as she adjusted her course and found the ramp, swinging her cane so it struck the metal railing with a dull clang.

They entered the building and met Matthew Kellie, Donna Alexandra Smith, Richard Romer, and Andrew Emil Daines.

"Glad you're all here," Matthew said. "We've got a mad rush in the auditorium. We'll just wait a minute."

Everyone murmured their agreement and Doug cleaned his sunglasses, which no one could ever convince him to remove. his colleagues understood He had good reason to refuse and had abandoned their arguments years ago.

As they all greeted one another and caught up, Sarah reflected on the diversities within their little group. It was a collection of characteristics and contradictions.

There was Doug, who, even after forty or more years, still carried the build and large stature that hinted at his college football days. While he was excellent at speaking in any professional capacity, such as making an argument in court, he was lousy at small talk and just listened as Andrew told him about a recent conference he'd attended.

Grace looked every bit the blonde-haired, blue-eyed California girl, though she hailed from North Carolina and had a slight southern accent to prove it. While she'd once been an intern, she was long-since considered an equal amongst her peers in the legal community. That seemed doubtful at the moment as she was busy admiring Donna's new shoes.

"How have I never come across those?" she was squealing. "They are gorgeous."

Richard was the know-it-all of the group, a title he unfortunately justified by seeming to know everything. Being the tallest while remaining as slim as a telephone pole, he also seemed to see more than others. Sarah sometimes compared him to prison guard towers. It wasn't a far-off comparison as his expertise was in prisons and the death penalty.

"What do you think?" he was asking Matthew, referring to a case from Florida which would be argued in front of the Supreme Court next month. "I hope they change the discretion given to states on this. I mean, a person scores a seventy-one instead of seventy on an IQ test and we're supposed to think he's on par with a normal person's intelligence and let him be executed? Its nuts."

Matthew was nodding and murmuring at this. His stance on the death penalty wasn't as passionate as Richard's, but Richard made a living defending those facing execution.

There was Donna, whose skill set differed so much from everyone else, she having never been involved in criminal litigation before meeting Sarah. She was nevertheless invaluable from the beginning. With her elegant glasses and simple ponytail, she looked like that quiet but friendly neighbor whom everyone could just somehow count on when they needed to. Even Sarah was quick to trust her.

Her value and dependability had its mysteries. Despite her professionalism and legal competence, Donna was often described as "timid" and the others almost needed to strong-arm her into coming today. She was not a fan of public speaking and would prefer to be home, reading a book or reviewing documents for a case. Unlike Doug, who just didn't talk much, she couldn't bring herself to say much. But she came and smiled shyly as Grace continued adoring her shoes.

Andrew was the legal nerd, baring the physical characteristics of a thin, glasses-wearing geek who had excelled in Ivy League schools and as a Civil Rights attorney. Nevertheless, he was known to have a joke to share whenever the timing seemed right. But sometimes, the joke was stupid.

"What does a ghost wear when it's raining?" he asked. "Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooots!"

Sarah rolled her eyes. Thank God his legal expertise was far above his comedic talent. He wouldn't survive on any stage in any club.

Matthew was the local, having been brought on when his geographic proximity became an important asset. He also looked kind of nerdy, though he claimed to be out of Andrew's league.

"I played JV soccer in high school and college," he always said by way of defending this contrast.

He was however the shortest in the group, which included Donna, who was five-foot-six in heels. And, according to Grace, he had the thickest hair Sarah had ever come across, though she'd never touched it to verify the claim.

Sarah rounded out the group. Before she lost the use of her legs her height would have made her a little taller than Grace but shorter than Doug and Richard. She had long red hair, though it wasn't as long as Grace's and instead more like Donna's mousy brown mane. She formerly had green eyes but had changed them to blue when ocular prostheses became a necessity. While her nose had once been straight, it was now slightly crooked due to her breaking it in a fall several years ago. According to others, it "didn't look bad." Sarah wasn't sure but couldn't see for herself.

Over the years, everyone had described themselves, and sometimes each other, for Sarah's benefit, leading to the weird physical traits and comparisons in her head. She'd only ever seen Doug before going blind. She doubted he'd ever change. No, he'd be that same big, dark-haired, clean-shaven, quiet man until the day he died, even if he claimed to be developing a few gray strands. He'd never get rid of those sunglasses ... that was for sure. In fact, could he get rid of those?

The group chatted amongst themselves, catching up on their lives. Normally, when they were invited to various organizations and schools to talk about Sarah's case, only Sarah and one or two others were able to make it. However, since Matthew had been part of the team, they all always made the extra effort to achieve a perfect attendance record when they visited Touro.

Spotting the group, the school's dean came over to greet them. Darleen Wesley had been the dean for eight years and had known Sarah for five of them. She'd also been an interested observer during Matthew's involvement in the case.

"Great to have you all here again," she said. "Traffic in the auditorium is dying down. If you want to head in, we'll get started in just a few minutes."

With Doug once again giving Sarah verbal directions, the group followed the dean into the auditorium. Some people watched Sarah make her way towards the stage and up a ramp erected next to it. Many of the upper-level students and nearly the entire faculty knew who she was, so most of the gawkers were first and second-year students with an occasional new professor mixed in.

Sarah made her way to the end of a long table set up on the stage, locked her brakes, and folded up her cane. Grace helped her set both it and her handbag on the floor while everyone else took their seats.

Darleen Wesley stepped to a lectern which stood near the table and greeted the students. Knowing how this part of the program ran, Sarah waited, running her thumb across the tips of her fingernails.

"We're quite honored to have this group of extraordinary individuals visit us once again," Darleen Wesley was saying. "To make the introductions, I will turn it over to Professor Kellie."