Stella knows about Peggy's brief return home, and the things that had taken place while she was there. In many ways it's not totally dissimilar to what's happened to her, and she's been here long enough to posit the idea that maybe what Peggy experienced hadn't been real. A hallucination, maybe. Her mind hasn't jumped ahead to the simulation idea yet.
She hasn't yet applied that theory to herself, either. While the outcome of the investigation had been exactly the opposite of what she'd wanted, the events had occurred in a logical, sensible order and in a realistic fashion. Dreams don't make sense, and she thinks it lasted too long to be a hallucination. Stella is treating what she'd experienced as real unless she finds proof to the contrary.
"Yeah," she says. A pause, wondering how much she should tell Beverly — how much she feels like telling her. The story is long and complicated, after all. But really what matters is the end result, awful as it is— "He's dead. He committed suicide before we could get him to trial."
It's easier saying that, the third time round. Stella has to close her eyes for a few seconds and just breathe, but she feels steadier now, not like the anger is going to shatter her.
"I needed justice," she says, looking back up. "For the women he killed, for everyone else he hurt. I needed him in prison. We had him, but it wasn't enough."
Her voice is steady, almost conversational, but it's clear in her eyes this was a blow to her, emotionally. Stella has a tendency to throw herself into cases like this wholeheartedly — especially when the victims are women — and to fail this badly is something taken very, very personally.
no subject
She hasn't yet applied that theory to herself, either. While the outcome of the investigation had been exactly the opposite of what she'd wanted, the events had occurred in a logical, sensible order and in a realistic fashion. Dreams don't make sense, and she thinks it lasted too long to be a hallucination. Stella is treating what she'd experienced as real unless she finds proof to the contrary.
"Yeah," she says. A pause, wondering how much she should tell Beverly — how much she feels like telling her. The story is long and complicated, after all. But really what matters is the end result, awful as it is— "He's dead. He committed suicide before we could get him to trial."
It's easier saying that, the third time round. Stella has to close her eyes for a few seconds and just breathe, but she feels steadier now, not like the anger is going to shatter her.
"I needed justice," she says, looking back up. "For the women he killed, for everyone else he hurt. I needed him in prison. We had him, but it wasn't enough."
Her voice is steady, almost conversational, but it's clear in her eyes this was a blow to her, emotionally. Stella has a tendency to throw herself into cases like this wholeheartedly — especially when the victims are women — and to fail this badly is something taken very, very personally.