Keith Morrison

Even Nancy's divorce attorney could see that.

Nancy knew it was true, but in those bitter months before the hit packet surfaced,

Nancy just hadn't been able to stop.

She couldn't stop collecting evidence of her husband's affair, couldn't stop throwing zingers his way at depositions, couldn't pass up an opportunity to shame him.

Things got so bad at one point, Chris sent a memo with her photo to the bank security officers, instructing them to evict her if she entered bank property for a non-banking purpose, or if she started making a scene, which she did, frequently.

And during one of those days at the bank, she bumped into a woman she knew sitting in the lobby.

The woman's name was Coco Latham.

All that was before she learned about the plan to have her killed.

Before she and her girls went into hiding.

Before anybody was arrested.

Just Nancy making Chris' life difficult.

There was another night when she drove by Chris' beach house and noticed Wendy's Durango parked in the drive.

Nancy decided to take a quick picture as further documentation for her divorce case.

That's the way it is sometimes with ugly divorces.

Competent, mature adults regress, let loose their inner ten-year-old.

The giggling didn't last long.

The very next day, Nancy learned that Chris had filed a trespassing complaint against her with the Sullivan's Island police.

The summons said he was seeking a protection order from Nancy.

Not so funny now.

Nancy didn't like the direction her little photo escapade had taken.