Even though they went out for part of the time that Stern was seeing Brossard, this woman said she never heard mention of her.
“He took the first bullet in the head, he got up, and then he fell,” Brossard recounted after confessing to the killing.
And when police seized an old letter her lover had written promising marriage, Brossard asked them for a copy.
Brossard walked over to the dressing room where Stern kept his sex toys—and, as he had shown her, his three pistols.
On the first day, Brossard told the court through tears that she still loves Stern.
There in the doorway stood Brossard, bigger and darker and more threatening than he had ever seemed before.
His trembling excuse was interrupted by Brossard, who had seized him by the arm.
"I tell thee it is thy fault," cried Brossard's angry voice, drawing nearer the barn.
Altogether the performance probably did not last longer than a minute, but each of the sixty seconds seemed endless to Brossard.
He begged me not to tell, for Brossard said you would likely drive him away, as you did your brother and sister.
