During the interim we learned the sad news of the death of the Alabama Deputy Sheriff who was shot multiple times after stopping the kidnapper of eight year old Jennifer Morley.
"The man responsible for the abduction and murder of Marcia Stonehurst in Delaware, Jennifer Morley and Deputy Sheriff Baxton in Alabama was wounded in Ohio recently," I blurted out.
Dean hadn't even managed a last name for bitch-Jennifer, much less the details of Dawkins v. Dawkins.
She might have been a fellow juror, but Dean sensed that he was watching Jennifer Radisson in his rearview mirror.
Jennifer Radisson continued to intimidate.
I am Jennifer Radisson.
It was as if Jennifer hadn't heard.
It said, 'this is Paul and his wonderful wife Jennifer whom I'll love forever,' blah, blah, blah.
Jennifer paused so long before answering that Dean thought she'd not heard his question.
Jennifer Radisson, not Dawkins.
Once again they lapsed into silence, but again Jennifer Radisson made no move to leave.
Dean arranged to pick up Jennifer Radisson at her hotel later that afternoon, after the parade and the water fight.
Jennifer Radisson, in spite of her height and eye catching blonde hair, was quickly lost in the happy crowd that clogged the sidewalks.
He wanted to tell her about meeting with Jennifer Radisson, but as soon as he started to speak, Fred O'Connor rushed up, a look of panic on his face.
The couple changed into shorts and boots, more satisfactory attire for their mountain drive with Jennifer Radisson.
Jennifer Radisson had changed to jeans and a sweatshirt advertising Ouray, and carried a day pack slung over her shoulder.
I'm Jennifer Radisson, the gold-digging bitch!
Jennifer leaned all the way back, her head tilted to the heavens.
Jennifer breathed deeply as she looked downward.
She promised they'd take Jennifer there another time, but then added, "Your property is equally beautiful, with far fewer visitors."
Jennifer began snapping her small camera at the first vista until she realized she'd used more than half the roll.
"I can hardly wait," Jennifer answered.
While Jennifer didn't complain, Dean could see her hands gripping the sides of the vehicle tightly as they moved steadily upward.
Jennifer gasped at the sight and stood, hands on the roll bar, and drank in the works of nature's paintbrush.
Jennifer, forced to husband her limited shots, took more time with hers as well.
Jennifer said as she bent on hands and knees to look closer.
Jennifer dismissed her concerns, expressing a wish that she had Cynthia's ability to capture this mountain beauty.