Alex looked uncomfortable in his suit, nervous under the courtroom lights. He avoided looking at Valentino entirely.
"Mr. Park," the prosecutor began. "You're a journalist, correct?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And you were friends with Mr. Russo?"
"We were. Since journalism school."
"Can you describe your friendship?"
Alex shifted in his seat. "We were close. Talked regularly, grabbed coffee, discussed work. He was one of my best friends."
Past tense. I felt Valentino flinch beside me.
"When did you notice changes in Mr. Russo's behavior?"
"Around February. He became different. Secretive. Stressed all the time." Alex finally glanced at Valentino, then away. "He'd jump at his phone notifications. Check behind him like he thought someone was following him. He seemed scared."
Exactly what the prosecution wanted the jury to hear. Valentino acting like someone under duress.
"Did you ask him what was wrong?"
"Many times. He always brushed it off. Said he was fine, just busy with work. But I could tell something was wrong."
"Did his work change during this period?"
"Objection," Emilio said. "Calls for speculation about Mr. Russo's professional capabilities."
"I'll rephrase. Did you notice any changes in the types of stories Mr. Russo published?"
"Yes. He'd always focused on corruption and misconduct. But suddenly he was writing these... softer pieces. About organized crime families going legitimate. Positive coverage of the Vitale organization specifically." Alex looked uncomfortable. "It was out of character."
The prosecutor pulled up printouts of Valentino's articles, showing them to the jury one by one. Each headline, each positive spin on my organization's activities.
"Did you discuss these changes with Mr. Russo?"
"I tried. He got defensive. Said I didn't understand his sources, that the stories were legitimate." Alex's voice dropped. "But I could tell something was wrong. He wasn't himself."
Under the table, I found Valentino's hand and squeezed it. He was trembling.
"When did your friendship end?"
"April. I confronted him at a coffee shop. Told him I was worried about him. That his work seemed compromised." Alex looked directly at Valentino now. "He got angry. Told me to stay out of his business. Then he just... walked away. That was the last real conversation we had."
"Did you try to contact him after that?"
"Yes. Multiple times. He ignored my calls, my messages. It was like he'd cut me out completely."
"Why do you think he did that?"
"Objection," Emilio said sharply. "Speculation."
"Sustained."
But the damage was done. The jury had heard it all—Valentino scared, stressed, writing compromised articles, cutting off friends. Classic signs of someone under coercion.
And it was true. All of it. At the beginning, Valentino had been scared. Had been stressed. Had been under my control.
