The first time I met Lacey, she was in an orange jumpsuit with tears streaming down her face. Now we’re in a small windowless room waiting to hear the verdict. If the media had it their way she’d be locked away for life. They didn’t know her as I do. “How long do you think it will take,” Lacey asks pacing around the long conference table until she’s behind me. “It could be a while. Longer the better.” Lacey rubs my should...