In the end, Zwerling had one key decision to make. In criminal cases, jurors want to hear from the defendant. Zwerling liked and respected Balfour, but should he put her on the stand?
Have you met her? he asks.
Yes.
Then youve seen that mental girdle she puts on, the protective armor against the world, how she closes up and becomes a soldier. It helps her survive, but it can seem off-putting if youre someone who wants to see how crushed she is. Zwerling decided not to risk it.
I wound up putting her on the stand in a different way, he says, so people could see the real Lyn -- vulnerable, with no guile, no posturing.
What Zwerling did was play two audiotapes for the jury. One was Balfours interrogation by police in the hospital about an hour after Bryces death; her answers are immeasurably sad, almost unintelligible, half sob, half whisper: I killed my baby, she says tremulously. Oh, God, Im so sorry.
The second tape was a call to 911 made by a passerby, in those first few seconds after Balfour discovered the body and beseeched a stranger to summon help.
Zwerling swivels to his computer, punches up an audio file.
Want to hear it?
***
It is 60 feet to the end of the patio, then a stairwell with 11 steps down, then two steps across, then a second stairwell, 12 steps down, one more off the curb and then a 30-foot sprint to the car. Balfour estimates the whole thing took half a minute or less. She knew it was too late when, through the window, she saw Bryces limp hand, and then his face, unmarked but lifeless and shiny, Balfour says, like a porcelain doll.
It was seconds later that the passerby called 911.
***
The tape is unendurable. Mostly, you hear a womans voice, tense but precise, explaining to a police dispatcher what she is seeing. Initially, theres nothing in the background. Then Balfour howls at the top of her lungs, OH, MY GOD, NOOOO!
Then, for a few seconds, nothing.
Then a deafening shriek: NO, NO, PLEASE, NO!!!
Three more seconds, then:
PLEASE, GOD, NO, PLEASE!!!
What is happening is that Balfour is administering CPR. At that moment, she recalls, she felt like two people occupying one body: Lyn, the crisply efficient certified combat lifesaver, and Lyn, the incompetent mother who would never again know happiness. Breathe, compress, breathe, compress. Each time that she came up for air, she lost it. Then, back to the patient.