Sarah Koenig

Marilyn Mosby, Baltimore State's attorney, started to give a statement to the dozens of TV cameras and microphones massed on the sidewalk outside the courthouse.

From the people who've been arguing for his release, some of them for decades, the pent-up strain of years' worth of rage and frustration suddenly loosed on the sidewalk, spilling onto Calvert Street.

How do you feel, man?

Thank you.

Anand didn't say a word, just kept his cool while sheriff's deputies hurried him through the scrum and into a white van.

Anand and I have talked on and off over the years.

More recently, it seemed like he was trying to tamp down his hopes, not get ahead of himself.

A couple of his old attorneys, though, the guys who tried to get him out on bail when he was 17, I caught them out on the sidewalk, hugging.

I don't know if I would have been able to hack it if she said so.

I don't know if I could have.

I was in the courtroom for the hearing.

More than 100 people, at times shockingly quiet, as if no one was breathing.

At the beginning, Young Lee, the brother of Hayman Lee, whose murder was about to be unsolved, spoke via Zoom directly to Judge Melissa Finn.

Young Lee tried to keep it together, but he couldn't.

When I think it's over, he said, it always comes back.

A real-life living nightmare for 20-plus years.

But he also told the judge he believes in the justice system.

He's not against a new investigation.

He said to Judge Finn, make the right decision.

Then the prosecutor read the highlights of her motion into the record.