Two way sex came
Here, as compensation for emotional distress, Kelli Peters wanted millions from him.
Some of Marcereau’s lawyer buddies had told him the case was a long-shot.
Peters had suffered no physical injury and had kept her role as a school volunteer.
But the more Easter tried to duck what he had done, Marcereau thought, the more the jurors would hate him.
She had grown isolated from her friends and had finally asked to change schools.
Even now, Kent Easter was still waffling on what he did, while his ex-wife showed “not an ounce of remorse,” Marcereau said. He reminded jurors that a promotional spot had appeared on You Tube, right around the time drugs were planted.
When Marcereau chatted with him during court breaks, he found him oddly affable — low-key, disarmingly polite, with a sense of humor — and had to remind himself he was the enemy.
She was now calling herself Ava Everheart, and so he began, “Good afternoon, Ms.
Everheart.” “Good afternoon.” He began by acknowledging the damage he’d done to her name.
When Easter put on his case now and called her to the stand — with a sign-language interpreter on hand for her claimed hearing loss — he did not seem angry at the woman he claimed had ruined him.
Instead, his tone seemed almost wistful, his gaze tender.