Less than two years after Adnan Syed was released from prison, Maryland’s top court has ordered a redo on the very hearing that freed him.

On Friday, the Maryland Supreme Court upheld an appellate court’s decision from 2023 to reinstate Syed’s conviction. That ruling was based on the argument that the murder victim’s family did not receive adequate notice about the hearing that led to Syed’s release.

Now, the case will head to a new lower court judge, who will determine the fate of Syed’s conviction. The Maryland Supreme Court said Syed can remain free in the meantime.

The 43-year-old spent 23 years in prison for the murder of his former high school girlfriend, Hae Min Lee. His case drew national attention after being the main focus of the Serial podcast’s first season. The episodes raised doubts about some of the case’s evidence and led to calls for a new trial. Syed was originally facing life in prison until a Baltimore judge vacated his conviction in 2022.

Syed went on to work for Georgetown University’s Prisons and Justice Initiative. But his case is far from settled. Here’s what to know.

A recap of Syed’s criminal case

In 1999, Baltimore high school student Hae Min Lee’s body was discovered in a city park, a few weeks after she had gone missing. Her autopsy determined that she had been strangled to death.

Syed, who had previously dated Lee, was charged with her murder and in 2000, he was sentenced to life in prison. At the time, he was 18 years old.

Syed had long maintained that he was innocent but his case received renewed attention in 2014 after it was chronicled in the debut season of the Serial podcast. Over the course of 12 episodes, Serial probed at the details in Syed’s case and exposed flaws in the legal system. One poignant question from the podcast was about the reliability of cellphone tower evidence.

Syed’s lawyers raised similar concerns and in 2016, Syed was granted a new trial. The state appealed the ruling and his case went through various courts. In 2019, the U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear his case.

Things took a turn in 2022 after a year-long investigation resulted in new information about two possible, alternative suspects. In September of that year, Syed was released from prison and prosecutors later decided to drop all cases against him.

Why Syed’s murder conviction got reinstated

In 2023, Lee’s family urged the Appellate Court of Maryland for a redo of the hearing that won Syed his freedom. The family argued that Lee’s brother, who lived in California, received about three days notice about the hearing and therefore, was unable to attend in person — violating Maryland victims’ rights, the Associated Press reported at the time.

“We’re not on a campaign to have Adnan Syed put back in jail,” attorney David Sanford, representing Lee’s family, said in 2023. “This is about respecting victims and their representatives.”

The appellate court ruled in favor of Lee’s family and reinstated Syed’s murder conviction. The court also a ordered a new hearing in the case. That ruling was upheld by Maryland’s highest court on Friday.

“In an effort to remedy what they perceived to be an injustice to Mr. Syed, the prosecutor and the circuit court worked an injustice against Mr. Lee,” Maryland’s Supreme Court wrote in an opinion on Friday.

What’s next

Baltimore’s state attorney’s office said it was reviewing the high court’s decision and had no further details about next steps forward.

In a statement, Lee’s family’s attorney, Sanford, applauded the court for reaffirming crime victims’ rights and giving the family the chance to be heard properly in court.

“If there is compelling evidence to support vacating the conviction of Adnan Syed, we will be the first to agree,” Sanford said.

Syed’s attorney, Erica Suter, said she disagreed with the court’s decision, adding that it will put an emotional toll on both Lee and Syed’s family.

“Though this latest ruling is a roadblock in the way of Adnan’s exoneration, we have faith that justice will prevail, and will work tirelessly to clear his name once and for all,” Suter said in a statement.

John Cho in Afraid.

Glen Wilson/Sony Pictures

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Glen Wilson/Sony Pictures

John Cho in Afraid.

Glen Wilson/Sony Pictures

The new movie Afraid is latest in the well-established genre of “the computer is alive” stories. John Cho plays a dad who has a chance to try out a very advanced AI system at his home — and it does a lot more than talk back.

I am an 81-year-old widow with shaky balance. But friends have told me that I have a face and outlook as those of a younger woman. Not too long ago, after I finished breakfast, a strange feeling came over me. My whole body, mind included, felt numb and spaced out. Seated at my dining room table, I felt my body lean to the right, then to the left.

I struggled to keep my eyes open. Through all of this, I was aware my body was still swerving. Afraid I’d fall to the floor, which I have done before, I stood up, hoping to shake off whatever had taken control of my body.

As I neared the kitchen, my body gave way and I fell. Hard. Twice I tried to get up but couldn’t. I was alone, in shock, with no way to get help.

My first thought was to call 911, but my cell was on the dining table where I always kept it.

Scooting on my butt, I made it to the counter. Reaching up as far as I could, I grabbed my phone and dialed 911. I remembered I had given a key to my neighbor and friend Rodney, so I gave his number to the firefighter who answered my call.

The ambulance came quickly. It was 9:30 a.m. when I arrived, and Long Beach Memorial Medical Center was eerily quiet. A nurse came into my room and asked me some questions, took my blood pressure, pricked my finger and withdrew a tiny amount of blood, then said the doctor would be in soon. I had nothing to do but lie there and wait. And listen.

I heard a nurse asking questions of her patient in the “room” to my right. It was not difficult to hear since these rooms were divided only by drapes.

“How tall are you?”

“Six-six,” a deep masculine voice responded.

Six-six? Wow! That got my attention.

“Do you drink?” she asked.

“Every day,” he said jokingly.

“What is your cell number?” I heard the numbers, and for some crazy reason, I wrote them down.

“When was the last time you had a drink?”

“Last night I went out with my buddies and had a few beers.”

So, he’s single! Great! He seemed so convivial that instead of being repulsed, I was turned on.

I had a strong urge to talk to him, but that would be weird, right? I reminded myself we were in a hospital, not at a social event. Still, my desire to connect with him was more powerful than my good sense.

“Hi, neighbor,” I called out before saying, “You sound so clever and cute that I had to say hi.” Oh, my God, I did it!

“Hi, neighbor,” he replied warmly.

Excited, heart racing, I anticipated he’d continue the conversation. But he didn’t. So I figured that was that, but I wondered why.

Then I heard a female voice different from his nurse. His wife. He’s married. Damn.

The doctor finally came in to see me. He said my blood pressure was normal, and the blood test was fine.

“I just want to get a CT scan of your head. I’m not expecting to find anything but just in case.”

A tech pushed aside the drapes and entered my tiny space with a gurney. We happened to go in the direction of my neighbor’s room. A strained glance through the small opening in his drapes was all I needed. He was attractive!

On my way back from the scan, I again peeked into the narrow opening to his room. This time I caught sight of a youngish woman and two gray-haired men I assumed to be his buddies. I was shocked! Gray hair? My neighbor had light red hair from what I could tell.

Back in my room, I waited for the doctor. That my neighbor (I wished I knew his name) was married threw a wrench into the possibilities. Then I heard another female voice, low, kind of sexy, also scratchy and highly annoying.

“You know, guys, if Dad had given me any reason for worry, I would have called you right away.”

Daughter? So not married. Single! Still single. No wonder he didn’t say more.

My doctor finally returned. “Everything is fine. You can go home.”

After nine hours at the hospital, I got dressed in the only piece of clothing I had with me: my nightgown. A tinge of sadness swept over me.

I stepped out of the room and paused to take one last look toward my neighbor’s room and saw a gurney transporting him somewhere. CT scan? MRI? Surgery? I watched him being wheeled away until the gurney was out of sight. Then I left.

I replayed the experience in my head. I was kind of proud that I had the chutzpah to do it. It was a little adventure and a welcome diversion.

After I got home, I called a close girlfriend, Beverly, to tell her about my fun fantasy and that I wrote his phone number down, but that I would never contact him.

She said, “I think you should.”

“I’m not going to do it. He’d think I was a stalker.”

We had several back-and-forths about this. The last thing I said to her was, “Why should I?”

“Because you never know.”

“Not doing it,” I said loudly, hoping the subject would finally be dropped. But what she said stuck in my head.

A few days later, throwing caution to the wind, I texted him. He texted me back: “Hi, neighbor.” Several texts and pictures later, he said, “I want to meet you.” Oh, my God.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’m a spontaneous guy. How about today? 5? El Torito in Long Beach.”

“I can be spontaneous. El Torito is perfect. See you at 5.”

My fantasy was becoming a reality!

Then Beverly called me. “How are things going?”

“I can’t talk. I’m meeting him in an hour.”

“Good luck! And don’t forget …”

“I remember.” We said it together, “You never know!”

I hung up and finished getting dressed, my heart racing — in a good way — at what I was about to do.

The author is a freelance writer who wrote a memoir, “My Sexual Awakening at 70,” published on Amazon. She also has written three psychological suspense novels, which are available for representation.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.