Page 72 of Matlock
But this time was different.
This time, it mattered more than anything I’d ever done.
Because this time it was for Simon.
I stopped in front of the jury and let my gaze move across their faces. Meeting their eyes. Letting them see me. Lettingthem see that I wasn’t afraid of what Rosalind had just said.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” I began, my voice calm, steady. “Ms. Winthrop just told you a story. A compelling story. A story designed to make you believe that my client, Simon Nelson, is a murderer.”
I paused, letting that sink in.
“But here’s the thing about stories,” I continued. “They’re only as good as the truth they’re built on. And the story Ms. Winthrop just told you? It’s built on stereotypes. On insinuations. On a narrative that fits her case, but not the facts.”
I turned slightly, gesturing toward Simon without looking at him.
“Simon Nelson is not a murderer. He’s a brother. A son. A respected business owner. A man who has lived his entire life in this community, openly and honestly, without shame or apology. A man who, when his sister was being attacked, did what any of us would do—he defended her.”
I let that hang in the air for a moment.
“The prosecution wants you to believe that Simon killed Alan Sanders out of jealousy. Out of some twisted obsession. Out of shame about his own sexuality.” I shook my head slowly. “But that’s not what happened. And over the course of this trial, the evidence will show you the truth.”
I moved closer to the jury box, my voice dropping slightly, becoming more intimate.
“The truth is this: Simon Nelson did kill Alan Sanders. But he was legally justified in doing so. Because at that moment Simon acted, Alan Sanders was attacking his sister. Sadie Nelson was in imminent danger of serious bodily harm. Or worse, death. And Simon had the legal right to use necessary force to protect her.”
I could see some of the jurors leaning forward now, their attention shifting.
“This is a case about self-defense. Not Simon’s self-defense, but defense of another person. Under the law, when someone you love is being unlawfully attacked, you have the right tointervene. You have the right to use reasonable force to stop the attack. And that’s exactly what Simon did.”
My voice hardened.
“Alan Sanders was a predator. A man who targeted vulnerable women, isolated them, controlled them, and hurt them. He had a pattern of escalating violence. He was a dangerous man who knew exactly how to manipulate and destroy the women he claimed to love.”
I turned to look at Simon now, letting the jury see him. Letting them see the man Rosalind had tried to paint as a monster.
“Mercedes Nelson, Sadie, was Alan’s latest victim. For over a year, she endured his abuse. His isolation, his control, his verbal degradation. And his physical violence. She hid it from her family because that’s what abuse victims do. They hide. They protect their abusers. They blame themselves.”
I turned back to the jury.
“But on the night Alan Sanders died, the violence escalated. Alan attacked Sadie. And when Simon arrived, he found his sister in mortal danger. He found Alan Sanders actively assaulting her. She was fighting for her life. And Simon did what the law allows, what the law expects. He intervened to stop the attack.”
I could see it now, the shift in some of their faces. The doubt creeping in. The realization that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this story than Rosalind had told them.
“The prosecution will present evidence,” I continued. “They’ll show you the knife. The blood. Simon’s confession. We aren’t disputing any of that. Simon confessed.”
I shook my head.
“The prosecution will have you focused on means. The knife. We aren’t disputing that Simon stabbed Alan Sanders. There is no question Simon Nelson used force proportional to the threat, force allowed by the law in the state of Nebraska to protect someone he loved from imminent harm.”
I paused, letting that sink in.
“Ms. Winthrop talked a lot about motive. About Simon’ssupposed jealousy. About his sexuality. His relationship with his sister.” My voice took on an edge. “She wants you to believe that being gay makes Simon unstable. That his sexuality makes him a deviant who is promiscuous and incapable of genuine love. That loving his sister makes him possessive and perverted. She’s asking you to accept the stereotype that gay men are inherently predators obsessed with control. That their relationships, whether romantic or familial, are twisted and sick.”
I let the silence stretch for a beat, letting the weight of those words settle.
“The prosecution is relying on you to believe that loving someone of the same sex makes you inherently dangerous. But ask yourself, what would you do? If you arrived to find your sister being attacked by a man who had spent over a year systematically destroying her? A man who was, at that very moment, threatening her life? What would you do?”
I could see some of the jurors nodding slightly now.
