Enter Innocent America, an organization based in Los Angeles dedicated to freeing Americans wrongly convicted of crimes. “There are other organizations dedicated to exonerating, almost exclusively through DNA testing, wrongly convicted individuals,” said Lisa Higgleby, staff attorney for IA. “We’re here for all the rest. Barring DNA proof, it’s very difficult to get a conviction overturned, but a far greater percentage of people are faced with this type of case than one that can be cleared through the use of science.” According to Higgleby, the primary causes of wrongful conviction include witness misidentification, an incompetent or inadequate defense, the use of jailhouse informants and prosecutorial/police misconduct or mistakes.

For Skinner, however, it was the testimony of the one person he should have been able to trust—his mother—that sealed his fate. “If not for the way my mother protected my uncle, and herself, my brother would not have gone to prison and lost such a big chunk of his life,” said Laurel Hodges, Skinner’s sister, a divorced mother of two who has fought diligently for her brother’s freedom. It was Hodges who contacted Innocent America and convinced them to take a look at his case.

“Laurel’s faith in her brother was unyielding. I absolutely couldn’t tell her no,” said Higgleby. “But this case would never have reached a happy resolution without Geraldine Lawson.” Ex-wife to Skinner’s uncle, Lawson came forward with information about the night Crawley was killed that caused police to reopen the investigation.

Gary Lawson has since been charged with Martin Crawley’s murder and is being held without bail in Los Angeles while awaiting trial. Skinner’s own mother is suspected of asking her brother to carry out the murder, but no charges have yet been filed against her.

Comfortably dressed in sweats again now that she was back from taking Virgil to the motel, Peyton read the article twice, then searched the internet with Ellen Crawley and Ellen Lawson, in case she’d gone back to her maiden name, Geraldine Lawson, Martin Crawley, Virgil Skinner, even Laurel Hodges as keywords. But other than a short piece in the L.A. Times mentioning Ellen and Gary’s implication in the fourteen-year-old shooting, she came up empty-handed. During regular business hours, she could probably get hold of someone in the federal system who might agree to run his prisoner ID number. But since he’d been released, that might not give her much. She already knew where he’d been incarcerated, at least at the end of his sentence, and for how long. What she wanted was the rest of Virgil’s story….

Leaning back, she glanced at the clock. Nearly nine. Not terribly late. She wondered if she’d be able to reach Wallace. She hadn’t planned to tell him that she knew Bennett wasn’t who she’d been told he was. But now that Rick had left Crescent City, maybe they could have a private conversation. She had Wallace’s cell number in her electronic phonebook. He’d given it to her more than a month ago, when they’d met for dinner to discuss the growing gang problem. He hadn’t suggested anything like what they were doing with Virgil, but she guessed he’d been thinking about developing Operation Inside even then.

She brought up his contact information while walking into the living room, where she could pace in front of the wall of windows that looked out onto the dark ocean.

He answered almost immediately. “Don’t tell me something’s wrong.”

She realized what he must’ve thought, hearing from her so late and so unexpectedly. “No, nothing.”

“Then what’s up?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“At nine o’clock on a Saturday night?”

“Sorry, but I’m glad you’re available.”

“I’m not…not really. I’m at the airport, waiting in the security line. You’ve got maybe ten minutes. So what’s going on? Is it Bennett?”

“Don’t you mean Skinner?”

He went silent. Then he said, “How’d you find out?”

Being purposely vague to avoid an outright lie, she kept it simple. “I did some research.”

He didn’t question her further. Was it because he knew he hadn’t put any work into that sketchy bio? “Skinner’s the one who wanted to use a false name,” he explained. “I was just trying to accommodate him, for safety reasons.”

His safety wasn’t worth doing a better job?

“Otherwise, I would’ve told you.”

She stared up at the stars, which seemed far brighter here on the coast than they ever had in Sacramento. “I see.”

“Are you…upset?”

“No, but I do feel entitled to some answers.”

Obviously relieved that she was taking his deception so well, he became less stressed and more congenial. “What do you want to know?”

“Why don’t we start with this—why was he tried in the federal system? Was it only because of tougher sentencing? Or was there more?”

“As far as I know, that was it.”

As Virgil had indicated. “That was a consideration for an eighteen-year-old boy?”

“A kid who’d murdered his stepfather in cold blood. Or so they believed.”

“It sucks to be wrong when you’ve thrown the book at someone, doesn’t it?” She knew it wasn’t Rick’s mistake, but she couldn’t help blaming him because she could tell he didn’t really care what had happened to Skinner.

“Cut the sarcasm, Peyton. How about feeling sorry for the victim and the victim’s family for a change?”

The typical security announcement came over the PA in the background. She waited before continuing, so he’d be able to hear her. “Why do I have to choose between them? In this case, the ‘perpetrator’ was as much a victim as anyone else.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not social workers. And if it makes you feel any better, the fact that Skinner was charged federally could turn out to be very fortunate for him.”

Only Wallace could shrug off so many years of someone else’s pain. “How can any of this turn out to be fortunate for him?”

“When it’s over, he’ll stand to receive $700,000.”

Rick was referring to the Justice for All Act, which provided settlements to those proven to be falsely imprisoned. But $700,000, as large as it sounded in a lump sum, wasn’t a lot. Time served was one thing; the experiences Virgil would never forget and how they’d shape his future was another.

“If he’d stayed in the state system, he’d get quite a bit less,” Wallace was saying. “At one hundred bucks a day, California pays more than most states. But that’s still a couple hundred thousand less than what he should get from the feds.”

He’ll stand to receive… Should get from the feds… Wallace wasn’t making any promises, and Peyton knew why. A lot could happen before that sum was ever paid. Even without all the complications of Virgil’s current predicament, even if he’d never acted out in prison, there was a possibility the money would never come. The government could appeal it, force him to fight an extended legal battle. She’d seen compensation funds tied up for years. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“Oh, shit. You drive me nuts, you know that?”

She wanted to ask, Why? Because I have a conscience? but knew that would be going too far. Instead, she tried to remain on topic. “I’m just saying Skinner’s sister could probably use the money.”

“You’re saying it to the wrong person. I have no power in the federal system. You know that.”

“Whoever negotiated this deal—the director or the governor—might be able to grease the way.”

“Maybe they’re not too inclined to stick their necks out. He went in an innocent boy, but he didn’t play nice with others while he was inside. He’s a loose cannon. The only reason he’s remotely pliable is because of his sister.”

The stab of defensiveness she felt further irritated Peyton. “Wouldn’t you be bitter?”

“Hey, I’m touched by your desire to champion the underdog, but I don’t have time for it today. I’m the facilitator, not the decision maker.”