The Final Case

In the summer of 2013 I sat in the gallery of a courtroom for weeks on end while a trial unfolded.  At the same time, my father--who'd been a criminal attorney for something like half a century--was in steep decline.  Regularly, after the gavel dropped to end a day's proceedings, I went to see him.  That fall, he passed away.

These two things--the courtroom drama and my father's demise--came together for me when I set out to write The Final Case.  If that makes it sound like a sad novel, it's not.  I think it's better described as a courtroom drama fused to a love story--love in many senses of the word, as a force that suffuses our existence with meaning.