maneuverable where cop cars cannot go, easily ditched behind a bush, and not identified by license plates.
'That was the plan, Judge. It did not work out. Senator Eddgar was not able to make it that morning. Other commitments in the state house had come up. And unfortunately, Judge, Mrs Eddgar was here. She lives in Marston, Wisconsin, Judge. Lived. But although Dr Eddgar and she divorced many years ago they remained close and she was here visiting him and her son. She came to the Tri-Cities often to do that, Judge, she was often in the county, and on this morning Senator Eddgar, when he was called away to his other business, he and the decedent, he and Mrs Eddgar agreed that she would drive down to Grace Street. As I said, Judge, Senator Eddgar's acquaintance with Mr Trent had political aspects and he did not want to offend Mr Trent by missing this meeting. He could not reach him by phone and so June Eddgar agreed to go down and apologize in person for the senator.
'And so she went, Judge,' says Tommy, 'and so she died. The evidence will show that when June Eddgar arrived in the area, when they realized that it was her in the car, not her husband, everyone - Lovinia Campbell and Ordell Trent - they tried to get her to leave quickly, but it was too late, Judge, to stop this plan that Nile Eddgar had put in motion. The zip bike came and it arrived too fast for the rider to see Ms Campbell's signals to stop. Ms Campbell was shot herself, Judge. And June Eddgar was killed. And I'm sure, Judge - it really isn't disputed - that Mr Turtle will tell you that Nile Eddgar didn't intend to kill Mrs Eddgar. Indeed, Judge, we'll offer a statement he made to the community service officer who came to inform him of his mother's death, in which Nile Eddgar all but admitted he intended to kill his father instead.'
'Objection!' Hobie booms. Both arms are raised. ' "All but admitted"? Your Honor, that's argument, clearly argument. Defendant did no such thing.'
I strike Molto's comment.
'Sorry, Judge,' he says before I can reprimand him further. Molto's tiny, darting eyes shy away, knowing he was caught. 'The point, Judge, is we acknowledge that the defendant has lost his mother, Judge, which undoubtedly has caused him some anguish and some grief. But that, as you know, is no excuse in the eyes of the law.'
With this, my attention falls again to Nile. I felt a momentary kinship with him this morning as I arrived on the bench, thinking about my mother and a childhood lived in the shadow of political commitments. But I'm struck now by a more distant perspective: Nile is simply odd. For the moment, he is occupied with his notepad. Defense lawyers often try to find a focus point like this for their clients, knowing that they are best off showing no reactions at all to the proceedings. But my sense of Nile is that he's beyond the grasp of any plan or discipline. There is an abiding ungainliness about him. He's potbellied, and when he walks he moves from the balls of his feet, in a loafing, dopey Alley Oop gait. Indeed, for someone who made his living in these courtrooms, he appears remarkably baffled. When he stood before me this morning, his head bobbed about like a barnyard hen's, and he is clearly uncomfortable in his go-to-court clothes. His tie knot is too large and askew, and his shirt collar will not stay in place. Yet Nile is my riddle to solve. What did he do? What did he intend? The most basic tasks in judging, they seem in this case frightening and enormous. Molto is winding up.
'What the evidence will show is that Nile Eddgar planned to murder, took substantial steps in furtherance of that plan, and that a murder resulted. That is the People's evidence, Judge. And once you have heard it, we expect you to find the People have proved beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant Nile Eddgar is guilty as charged of conspiracy to commit murder.' Tommy nods to me politely, convinced
'That was the plan, Judge. It did not work out. Senator Eddgar was not able to make it that morning. Other commitments in the state house had come up. And unfortunately, Judge, Mrs Eddgar was here. She lives in Marston, Wisconsin, Judge. Lived. But although Dr Eddgar and she divorced many years ago they remained close and she was here visiting him and her son. She came to the Tri-Cities often to do that, Judge, she was often in the county, and on this morning Senator Eddgar, when he was called away to his other business, he and the decedent, he and Mrs Eddgar agreed that she would drive down to Grace Street. As I said, Judge, Senator Eddgar's acquaintance with Mr Trent had political aspects and he did not want to offend Mr Trent by missing this meeting. He could not reach him by phone and so June Eddgar agreed to go down and apologize in person for the senator.
'And so she went, Judge,' says Tommy, 'and so she died. The evidence will show that when June Eddgar arrived in the area, when they realized that it was her in the car, not her husband, everyone - Lovinia Campbell and Ordell Trent - they tried to get her to leave quickly, but it was too late, Judge, to stop this plan that Nile Eddgar had put in motion. The zip bike came and it arrived too fast for the rider to see Ms Campbell's signals to stop. Ms Campbell was shot herself, Judge. And June Eddgar was killed. And I'm sure, Judge - it really isn't disputed - that Mr Turtle will tell you that Nile Eddgar didn't intend to kill Mrs Eddgar. Indeed, Judge, we'll offer a statement he made to the community service officer who came to inform him of his mother's death, in which Nile Eddgar all but admitted he intended to kill his father instead.'
'Objection!' Hobie booms. Both arms are raised. ' "All but admitted"? Your Honor, that's argument, clearly argument. Defendant did no such thing.'
I strike Molto's comment.
'Sorry, Judge,' he says before I can reprimand him further. Molto's tiny, darting eyes shy away, knowing he was caught. 'The point, Judge, is we acknowledge that the defendant has lost his mother, Judge, which undoubtedly has caused him some anguish and some grief. But that, as you know, is no excuse in the eyes of the law.'
With this, my attention falls again to Nile. I felt a momentary kinship with him this morning as I arrived on the bench, thinking about my mother and a childhood lived in the shadow of political commitments. But I'm struck now by a more distant perspective: Nile is simply odd. For the moment, he is occupied with his notepad. Defense lawyers often try to find a focus point like this for their clients, knowing that they are best off showing no reactions at all to the proceedings. But my sense of Nile is that he's beyond the grasp of any plan or discipline. There is an abiding ungainliness about him. He's potbellied, and when he walks he moves from the balls of his feet, in a loafing, dopey Alley Oop gait. Indeed, for someone who made his living in these courtrooms, he appears remarkably baffled. When he stood before me this morning, his head bobbed about like a barnyard hen's, and he is clearly uncomfortable in his go-to-court clothes. His tie knot is too large and askew, and his shirt collar will not stay in place. Yet Nile is my riddle to solve. What did he do? What did he intend? The most basic tasks in judging, they seem in this case frightening and enormous. Molto is winding up.
'What the evidence will show is that Nile Eddgar planned to murder, took substantial steps in furtherance of that plan, and that a murder resulted. That is the People's evidence, Judge. And once you have heard it, we expect you to find the People have proved beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant Nile Eddgar is guilty as charged of conspiracy to commit murder.' Tommy nods to me politely, convinced
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