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Unformatted text preview: al. Well, he tried to explain, someone either stained his shirt with Rhoda's blood, a theory that lightened up the crowd considerably, or, it was more likely that some mysterious person who examined the shirt was simply lying, all in an effort to convict him. Ernie had a field day with both scenarios, but he landed his heaviest blows with a series of brutal questions about why Danny, who certainly had the money to hire the best lawyers around, didn't hire his own expert to come to court and explain the tainted blood exams to the jury. Perhaps no expert was found because no expert could reach the ridiculous conclusions Padgitt wanted. Same for the semen. If Danny had been producing it over at Lydia's, how could it arrive at Rhoda's? No problem—it was part of a broad conspiracy to nail him for the crime. The lab reports were fabricated; the police work was faulty. Ernie hammered him until we were all exhausted. At twelve-thirty, Lucien stood and suggested a break for lunch. "I'm not done!" Ernie yelled across the courtroom. He wanted to finish the annihilation before Lucien could get his hands on his client and try to rehabilitate him, a task that seemed impossible. Padgitt was on the ropes, battered and gasping for air, and Ernie was not going to a neutral corner. "Continue," Judge Loopus said, and Ernie suddenly shouted at Padgitt, "What did you do with the knife?" The question startled everyone, especially the witness, who jerked backward and quickly said, "I, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html uh,—" then went silent. "You what! Come on, Mr. Padgitt; tell us what you did with the knife, the murder weapon." Danny shook his head fiercely and looked too scared to speak. "What knife?" he managed to say. He could not have looked guiltier if the knife had dropped out of his pocket onto the floor. "The knife you used on Rhoda Kassellaw." "It wasn't me." Like a slow and cruel executioner...
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- Spring '10