Denial

Beverley McLachlin

Image | BOOK COVER: Denial by Beverley McLachlin

(Simon & Schuster)

Jilly Truitt has made a name for herself as one of the top criminal defense lawyers in the city. Where once she had to take just about any case to keep her firm afloat, now she has her pick—and she picks winners.

So when Joseph Quentin asks her to defend his wife, who has been charged with murdering her own mother in what the media are calling a mercy killing, every instinct tells Jilly to say no. Word on the street is that Vera Quentin is in denial, refusing to admit to the crime and take a lenient plea deal. Quentin is a lawyer's lawyer, known as the Fixer in legal circles, and if he can't help his wife, who can?

Against her better judgment, Jilly meets with Vera and reluctantly agrees to take on her case. Call it intuition, call it sympathy, but something about Vera makes Jilly believe she's telling the truth. Now, she has to prove that in the courtroom against her former mentor turned opponent, prosecutor Cy Kenge—a man who has no qualms about bending the rules.

As the trial approaches, Jilly scrambles to find a crack in the case and stumbles across a dark truth hanging over the Quentin family. But is it enough to prove Vera's innocence? Or is Jilly in denial herself?

Thrumming with tension, Denial is a riveting thriller about the lengths we will go to for the ones we love and the truths we hold dear. (From Simon & Schuster)
Beverley McLachlin was the first female chief justice of the Supreme Court of Canada. She held the position for nearly 20 years. After McLachlin retired from the court, she became a writer. She has also published the memoir Truth Be Told and the thriller Full Disclosure.

From the book

"All I ask is that you talk to my wife. I've done everything I can to help her. This is my last attempt. If it works, it works. If not –"
Joseph Quentin and I are sitting in the late August sun on the marina-side patio of Cardero's Restaurant. Sustainable seafood, the menu boasts. As if, I think. Half a lifetime in the law has made me a skeptic of no-harm claims, but this is where Quentin suggested we meet for lunch. Having worked his way through his crab salad, he's moved on to what's on his mind. I lean back and wait.
"I've run out of options, Ms. Truitt," he says, fingering the stem of his glass of red wine.
I know where this conversation is headed. His wife has been charged with murdering her elderly mother by administering a lethal dose of morphine. A mercy killing, the papers say, but the law is the law and killing is killing. She doesn't need a visit. She needs a criminal defence lawyer. Quentin has decided that person is me. What I don't know is why.

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