Everyone was angry about that verdict. And I do mean everyone.
Excluding the time she wrote the tell-all article about me that got me arrested, Rebecca had never shown that she was really angry with me. And in this situation, her anger seemed largely misplaced—in direct contrast with my usual form, I hadn’t had any influence on those verdicts. I had played by the rules, let Brianne make our cases, and that was it. No bribing jurors, no falsifying evidence. The jury had found me guilty of ¼ of my charges, and Rebecca guilty of all of hers.
Brianne was angry. She didn’t understand why Rebecca would be counted as an accomplice, but I wouldn’t. Despite the fact that I had been invited to the scene by Rebecca, who had shown up voluntarily and then asked me to help—conveniently leaving out what I was to be helping with until I arrived.
The media were angry. Talk shows theorized about how I must have bribed the jury, YouTube conspiracy theories popped up everywhere, and I’m pretty sure #kennedysguiltyparty trended on Twitter and Instagram. Ironic.
I wasn’t angry. I was the only one.
And then came the sentencing.
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