✏️ Legal Pad
The trial of Zachary Hughes drew intense attention across South Carolina, not only because of the death of Christina Parcell, but because the case was layered with digital evidence, conflicting narratives, and a defendant who took the stand to explain his intent in a way that few defendants ever do.
Hughes admitted to the killing. That fact alone consumed most of the headlines. What didn’t make the headlines, but will now take center stage on appeal, is the question of intent, the legal distinction between a murder carried out with malice and a killing carried out under a sincerely held belief that a child was in danger from the one person who should have protected her the most- her mother.
Whether the jury was properly equipped to navigate that difference is one of the central issues raised by my business partners in the appeal filed this week. They are two of the best lawyers I know, and their commitment to their client is a humbling reminder of how important our profession is as a bulwark against a stacked deck.
Appeals are not about relitigating facts. They are about ensuring that the law was followed, that the jury was correctly instructed, and that constitutional protections were honored. Nowhere is that more important than in emotionally charged cases where public sentiment runs ahead of legal nuance. And this case had nuance in spades.
The real battle starts now, and everything hangs in the balance. The stakes could not be higher for Zach, who’s life will be determined by the outcome of this appeal. Like most things in law, it’s a gamble, but I would not be betting against Andy Moorman and Mark Moyer.
💡 Sidebar
There’s a moment in every trial prep where the digital exhibits hit the printer. PDFs turn into paper. Tabs get placed. Pages are flipped, reordered, and flipped again. It feels archaic, but it’s essential.
Printing exhibits is where theory meets reality. What made perfect sense on a computer suddenly looks different when it’s in your hands. A timeline feels crowded. A photo needs context. A document that seemed powerful now needs explanation. Paper has a way of exposing weak spots that screens politely ignore.
There’s also something grounding about the ritual itself. The clatter of the printer, the feel of warm paper, and the slow work of tabbing and labeling, forces you to slow down and engage with the case in a physical way. No shortcuts. No swipe gestures. Seeing the case as the jury will.
In a profession racing toward the digital, this analog step still matters. Trials happen in real rooms, with real people, making real decisions. And before any of that happens, the work shows up quietly, one printed exhibit at a time.
⚖️ Closing Arguments
Thanksgiving didn’t go according to plan this year. Trial prep took over the calendar, the house was sick, and what should have been a peaceful holiday blurred into outlines, rulings, and late nights. It wasn’t restful. It wasn’t picturesque. But it mattered. And when the case finally went to the jury, the work showed and we got a good result.
That may be the thing I love most about trying cases. When you’ve done the work, when you know the file, the witnesses, and the law, you can roll with the punches. You seize ground on the rulings you like and adapt to the ones you don’t. You pivot. You keep your footing and your poise. Preparation buys you that steadiness. It’s the difference between being forced to react to an adverse situation and simply responding to one that you’ve already run through your mind thousands of times.
This morning was very different. I took my daughter for a walk along the beach, and I told her, confidently, that we weren’t going to get dirty. We were just going to walk and then run errands while Mom worked. About 12 seconds after that proclamation, both of us were sitting in the sand building castles- exactly where she wanted us to be.
In court, preparation gives me control. With her, I have none, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Fishing pocketfuls of sand out of my jeans is a healthy reminder that she doesn’t care about courtroom victories, she just wants me to shovel faster.
Here’s to humbling resets and a promising new career as my daughter’s subcontractor.
Court is in recess- see you next Friday
