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Brown nodded. “Nobody has proved anything. Let's go in.”

“How are you doing?”

“My wife reports all is still quiet. Of course when I return, I may get the bad news then.”

“You're a pessimist,” I said, knocking the ashes from my pipe. Brown didn't bother answering as he held the door open for me. The courtroom was filling up rapidly but we had our choice of seats. However, Brown suddenly whispered, “It isn't good for us to be seen together in public so often, Norm,” and sat in an empty single seat between two couples.

I felt like kicking the old guy smack in the behind, but then, he was supposedly doing it all for my own good, or something. I found a seat up near the front. Jackson was wearing a change of pace suit—a conservative blue serge, white shirt, blue knitted tie. But he hadn't forgotten his key, beaded belt or moccasins. He sat at his table and looked over some notes, his face very solemn—at one time I almost thought he was praying. Matt, dressed in his casual sports-coat-and-slacks deal, looked very fit and confident. He carefully piled a ream of paper in front of him, spread out a number of pens and pencils. He ran his eyes over the jury faces, making notes after each. Wagner looked his usual cold fish as he whispered to an assistant. Kolcicki was a spectator on the other side of the court, happily chewing gum.

After we stood up for the judge, the court got down to business. When Jackson was asked if he was ready to sum up, he said he was, his great voice sounding very grave. Matt was writing away as Jackson walked slowly to the jury box. Leaning on the rail for a moment he said nothing. He had his man-to-man smile on, but his eyes seemed to burn into each juror, forcing most of them to turn away. “Mr. Foreman, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he began softly, “you will shortly face a great responsibility—probably the greatest you will ever have to face in your lives: a man's life will be in your hands for judgment. You may recall I said in my opening address that you and you alone are the true judges in this trial. It is a solemn duty and a most important one, for trial by jury is indeed the very spine of our democracy. For my client's sake I am pleased that you are to judge him, for I know you to be honest and decent people.”

Jackson stood up, tall and straight, began walking slowly back and forth before the jury box, his voice projecting now. “A case like this is embarrassing to all of us, for we have to look into the very heart of a person's private life, beyond the personal walls of a marriage. It's like the fabled Pandora's box, one never knows what will come out—and some of it is far from pretty. Matt Anthony's wife is dead. That's a fact, and not a pretty one. The Grand Jury indicted Mr. Anthony for first degree murder. His Honor has denied my motion to dismiss both the first and second degree murder counts of the indictment. Now his Honor will give you the law in his charge, but let me point out that a man is innocent until proven guilty. Proven! Neither the indictment or his Honor's decision not to dismiss the charges can be taken as proof. The fact is, not once in this trial has Mr. Wagner offered the smallest shred of proof that Matt Anthony ever planned to murder his wife. There has not been a single bit of evidence of intent or premeditation. Mr. Wagner's entire charge of murder is actually based on three words, that Matt Anthony in the heart of argument told his wife, 'I'll kill you!' Mr. Wagner has taken upon himself, although he was not present at the scene, to interpret these words as a real threat. Yet you will recall that Mr. and Mrs. Hunter, who were witness to the scene, stated they did not consider the words a threat at all, but merely a figure of speech. Ask yourselves how many times in either jest, or anger, you have told someone, perhaps even your wife or husband, or your child, something like, 'If you don't bring me the paper this minute I'll wring your neck!' It is obvious that to gather the true meaning of words we must recognize the intent behind the word,. Certainly when you tell a person to 'go to the devil,' you actually don't mean for them to die and be sent to Hell. Yet that it what the prosecuting attorney would have you believe. If you told somebody, 'Oh, go jump in the lake!' and hours later that person did fall into a lake, on the basis of his logic, Mr. Wagner would claim you must have pushed him, therefore you are guilty of assault.”

Jackson smiled. Most of the jury grinned.

“Actually, the State's entire case is based on Matt Anthony's alleged 'threat' to his wife, his saying, 'I'll kill you.' But there really wasn't any such threat. If you recall the exact words he said, they were, 'If you ever say a single out-of-the-way word to Hank, I'll kill you.' Let us concentrate on that first word, IF. The fact is that Francine Anthony never saw Prof. Brown again, never had a chance to say a word to him! So no matter what interpretation one gives Matt Anthony's words, the fact remains there was no reason for him to carry out such a threat—and I do not consider it a threat. Two letters, i... f, wipe out the entire basis of the State's case!

“Let us forget interpretations and come down to the known facts of the case. You have heard the only—I repeat, the only witness to Francine Anthony's death, her husband, state under oath that in the boat they got into an argument about skin-diving, that in a moment of blind, insane rage, he struck her. The subject of their earlier argument, a friend of Matt Anthony's, had left the house, so that family spat was over, finished; probably forgotten. Matt Anthony was out to play a practical joke on his wife, yank at her fishing line. His oxygen tank failed and he surfaced, causing a new argument. If the tank hadn't failed Matt would have returned to shore and later Francine Anthony would have returned with stories about the one that got away. Obviously there wasn't, there couldn't have possibly been under those circumstances, any premeditation or intent.

“As to second degree murder, which—as his Honor will tell you, means killing with design to effect death but without premeditation, Matt Anthony didn't pick up a weapon that would have caused death. He didn't even pick up an oar and strike his wife while he was in a fit of blind rage. No, indeed, he hit her with his hand. Certainly the hand can not be considered as a 'design to effect death.' Actually, the cause of Mrs. Anthony's death was an accidental fall.

“Let us consider the testimony of Detective Kolcicki, a trained and veteran police officer. Certainly the possibility of first degree murder must have entered Detective Kolcicki's trained mind. Remember, he has stated that he had secured hundreds of confessions. Yet nowhere in the confession did you hear any mention of planning on Matt Anthony's part, any hint of intent or deliberation. Obviously, if Detective Kolcicki had the slightest suspicion of murder, he would not have accepted the confession, hammered away until he secured one of murder. But to Detective Kolcicki's trained mind, the confession sounded truthful. Premeditation and intent must not only be proven, but proven beyond any reasonable doubt!” Jackson's voice hit me with force, it must have stunned the jury. Even Matt looked up from his writing. Clair thundered, “Where has a single iota of such proof been offered during this trial? When? The answer is simple: there has been none!

“Mr. Wagner read some lively sentences from Mr. Anthony's works. We each have our own tastes in literature. Frankly, I don't understand his purpose in reading excerpts from these books to the court. Although I must admit Mr. Wagner reads well, and that's about all he proved. As Mr. Anthony said, he wrote detective books only because they made more money than any other kind of book. I take it Mr. Wagner would have you believe that a man writing about crime must have a practical knowledge of crime. This is nonsense. How many writers of westerns can win a rodeo, as their fictional heroes do? In fact how many writers of cowboy stories have ever ridden anything but a library chair as they did their research? Millions upon millions of Americans read Matt Anthony's books for relaxation and enjoyment. Nobody forces them to, they do it out of free choice. Mr. Wagner would have us believe that America reflects Matt Anthony's books. In reality, it's the other way around, his books merely reflect America. We are a rather violent nation, quick to fight and anger. This is the reason we make such good soldiers in time of war, that our athletes are among the world's best.”