Chapter 11May 26th
“Does the defense wish to cross-examine the witness?” Judge Gillis asked, sounding almost bored. Court procedure was much more exact than it seemed in movies and on television, just as Haywood had warned me. It was structured almost like a play, with lines that every person was expected to know and perform from memory.
“I do, Your Honor,” answered the defense council, a stout, dark-haired woman by the name of Jolana Kovač. She stood about my height, but stockier, in a pencil skirt and suit jacket that only accentuated the boxiness of her figure. I hated her on principle. My mother was right: she was a tidal wave.
“You may proceed when ready.” The judge shuffled some papers on his desk, and Kovač did the same. I wiped my wet palms on the handkerchief Haywood had never
