Published by Grand Central - 534 Pages, $30

I admit it: I am a Scott Turow fan. As a first-year law student, I happened to be in law school the year after Turow’s memoir One L was published. While the University of Missouri–Kansas City School of Law was not Harvard Law School, many of the experiences he described felt familiar. Over the years, I have read most of Turow’s novels and enjoyed each one. His latest, Presumed Guilty, continues that tradition.

Turow reunites readers with Rusty Sabich, the protagonist of his landmark 1987 novel Presumed Innocent. Nearly forty years after being acquitted of murdering his mistress, Rusty is living quietly in the Midwest with his longtime partner, Bea. Also living with them is Bea’s adopted son, Aaron, a young man struggling to rebuild his life while on probation for drug possession.

When Aaron suddenly disappears, concern quickly turns to crisis. If he fails to report to his probation officer, he faces a return to jail. Aaron eventually reappears with a vague story involving a camping trip and an argument with his troubled girlfriend, Mae. When Mae fails to return and is later found dead, Aaron becomes the prime suspect and is charged with first-degree murder.

Faced with few options, Bea implores Rusty to return to the courtroom one last time to defend her son. For Rusty, the central question is not merely whether Aaron is innocent, but whether a justice system to which he has devoted his life can truly deliver justice to someone who is already presumed guilty.

Over the course of Turow’s novels, Rusty has served as prosecutor, judge, and now defense attorney. In Presumed Guilty, he brings all of those experiences to bear as he represents Aaron. In classic Turow fashion, law and politics intersect throughout the investigation and trial, each influencing the search for truth and the administration of justice.

The novel also devotes significant attention to Rusty’s personal life. Long-buried secrets emerge, loyalties are tested, and relationships are strained. Rusty has evolved considerably since readers first met him decades ago. He remains imperfect, but age and experience have given him greater compassion and empathy, qualities that shape his defense of Aaron and make him a more accessible and relatable protagonist.

The murder case itself may not be as intricate as some of Rusty’s earlier legal battles, but it remains compelling throughout. Turow’s courtroom scenes are, as always, authentic and engrossing. While experienced lawyers may occasionally encounter explanations of legal procedures they already know, these moments are brief and do little to interrupt the narrative’s momentum.

The novel explores a range of contemporary issues, including addiction, racial bias, discrimination, infidelity, and complex family dynamics. Turow skillfully balances the legal thriller elements with the interpersonal relationships that drive the story. The mystery unfolds through Rusty’s first-person perspective, with enough twists, red herrings, and surprises to keep readers engaged until the end.

One of the book’s strengths is its cast of flawed and believable characters. Aaron, a recovering addict with a criminal record, is far from perfect, yet Turow makes it easy for readers to sympathize with him and question whether he is being judged more for who he has been than for what he may have done. Bea’s complicated relationship with her father, Joe—a former alcoholic and abusive parent who has become a devoted grandfather—adds further emotional depth to the story.

The trial takes place in a predominantly white community where Mae’s body was discovered, raising difficult questions about race and perception. Aaron, who is African American and was adopted at birth by Bea and her late husband, faces challenges that extend well beyond the evidence presented in court. Turow handles these issues thoughtfully, allowing them to enrich the story without overwhelming it.

As the trial unfolds, Rusty squares off against an ambitious prosecutor while aided by a talented investigator whose discoveries repeatedly challenge the prosecution’s case. The judge, refreshingly, is portrayed as fair and even-handed rather than as an obstacle or caricature. 

At more than 500 pages, Presumed Guilty may appear intimidating, but readers should not be deterred. Turow provides enough background on Rusty and the supporting characters that newcomers can easily follow the story, while longtime fans will appreciate revisiting one of legal fiction’s most enduring protagonists.

For lawyers, judges, and anyone who enjoys a well-crafted legal thriller, Presumed Guilty is a rewarding read. Turow once again demonstrates why he remains one of the finest writers in the genre. While the verdict may not come as a complete surprise, the novel’s final resolution is both satisfying and memorable—one of Turow’s best endings in years.