Of course, she holds your client responsible, because a mother in that situation is at her wit’s end and is at the mercy of the psychologist, who isn’t a real doctor anyway.”

So Chapman isn’t a psychiatrist but a psychologist. Amy is coming on a little strong: surely Chapman didn’t use a cattle prod. She is telling me more than she probably should, but I do not discourage her. Yet this may be already part of Jill’s after-dinner speech. I murmur, “So this fits right into her children’s-rights theme, huh?”

Amy wags a finger at me.

“Jill doesn’t mention children’s rights in her talks. Remember, they can’t vote. She simply says that these are our children whom we make into victims, sometimes by our neglect and sometimes by our deliberate actions. Who can argue with her?”

“She sounds like she has the makings of a first-class demagogue,” I say, hoping I can egg Amy on to more insights.

Know thy enemy.

“She’s not, really,” Amy says earnestly.

“Her friends say that she’s been saying the same things privately for years.

Now she’s got a public forum and wants to see if she can take the opportunity to make some changes she believes in.”

As Amy talks, I find myself wondering who the father is.

Probably one of the assistant prosecutors. There are some real pretty boys over here now.

“Do you know who’s going to try the case?”

I know her answer before she can say it.

“Jill.”

“Who will assist her?”

Amy spreads her hands.

“Why don’t you ask up front?”

I stand up, taking the hint. It won’t help Amy if anyone thinks she has been talking about the case to me. I reassure her.