For Wendall Rohr and the plaintiff’s team, the weekend had brought no rest. They’d traced Marlee’s fax back to a truck stop near Hattiesburg, and obtained an unclear description of a young woman, late twenties, maybe early thirties, wearing a fishing cap, with a face half-hidden by dark glasses. It was the opinion of the eight principal plaintiff’s lawyers that this was something new. No one could recall a trial in which a person outside had contacted the lawyers with hints of what the jury might do. They all agreed that she’d be back and that she’d probably ask for money. A deal—money for a verdict.