A Matter of Conviction

“I read in the newspapers that you had received a note warning you against testifying. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you’re afraid?”

“Yes.”

“But you have just sworn to tell this court the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Will you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Despite the note?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Did you see those three boys on the night of July tenth?”

“Yes. I saw them.”

“Take a good look. Are you sure it was those three boys?”

“Yes.”

“What were they doing?”

“They were running.”

“From where?”

“From across Third Avenue. They were coming from the west side.”

“Were they carrying anything?”

“Yes.”

“What were they carrying?”

“Knives.”

“How do you know?”

“They gave the knives to me.”

Hank walked to his table, picked up three knives and then said, “If the court please, I would like these knives marked as evidence.”

“Mark the knives as evidence,” Samalson said. “Exhibits Two, Three and Four.”

“Would you mind looking at these knives, Miss Rugiello?”

“Yes?”

“Are these the knives those three boys gave you on the night of July tenth?”

Angela Rugiello studied the knives. “Yes. Those are the ones.”

“Do you remember which boy gave you which knife?”

“No. It all happened so fast. I just took the knives from them and then brought them home.”

“Was there blood on these knives?”

“Yes.”

“On all these knives?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do with the knives when you took them home?”

“I put them in a paper bag at the back of my drawer.”

“Did you do that as soon as you got home?”

“Yes.”

“Did you wash the knives first?”

“No.”

“You did not wash these knives?”

“I did not wash them.”

“Not even one of them?”

“None of them. I just put them in a paper bag and put them at the back of my drawer.”

“Let me understand this clearly, Miss Rugiello. You did not wash any of those knives, is that correct?”

“That’s right.”

“You did not wash one of those knives?”

“No... I told you.”

“Then the way you turned those knives over to the police later, they were in the same condition that you’d received them, is that right?”

“That’s right. I didn’t do anything to them.”

“But you do not know which of these knives came from which boy, is that also true?”

“That’s true.”

“I have no further questions.”

“You may proceed with the cross-examination,” Samalson said.

Randolph, one of the defense attorneys, approached the witness chair. “Miss Rugiello,” he said, “are you certain that the three boys who gave those knives to you were Arthur Reardon, Anthony Aposto and Daniel Di Pace?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I know them, don’t I?”

“Yes, but wasn’t it dark that night?”

“It wasn’t so dark that I couldn’t see them.”

“But it was dark, wasn’t it?”

“It wasn’t nighttime yet. It wasn’t that kind of darkness.”

“But it was dark.”

“Only because it was raining.”

“And in this darkness, couldn’t you have mistaken the three boys who allegedly gave you those knives?”

“No. I didn’t make any mistake. It was the three of them. I talked to them, so how could I have made a mistake?”

“I see. Who gave you the first knife?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Was it Reardon?”

“I don’t remember. It all happened so fast.”

“Was it Di Pace?”

“I told you, I don’t remember.”

“But you do remember that it was these three boys who gave you the knives? You’re sure of that. But you’re not exactly sure who gave you the knives, are you?”

“Objection! Defense counsel is attempting to distort the witness’s testimony. She has already stated that the knives were given to her by Reardon, Di Pace and Aposto. She simply does not remember the order of presentation.”

“Sustained. Strike the question.”

“I have no further questions,” Randolph said.

“Call Daniel Di Pace.”

Danny rose from where he was sitting. He glanced at the defense attorneys, received their nod and then walked hesitantly toward the witness stand. He wore a dark-brown suit. His red hair caught the rays of the sun which streamed through the long windows lining the courtroom. The clerk swore him in and he took the chair, wiping the palms of his hands on his trousers. Hank approached him. Silently, they surveyed each other.

“You are Danny Di Pace?”

“Yes.”

“You know, don’t you, Danny, that you’ve been accused of murder in the first degree, and that if this jury finds you guilty, you can go to the electric chair? You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes. I know.”

Hank picked up the knives and held them up to Danny.

“Recognize these knives?”

“No.”

“You’re under oath, Danny!” Hank snapped. “Don’t add perjury to the charge against you.”

“Is that any worse than first-degree murder?”

“Look at these knives. Do you recognize them?”

“No. I don’t recognize them.”

“Tell me the truth, Danny.”

“Objection!”

“These are the knives that were used in the murder of Rafael Morrez. Now, you recognize them, so don’t lie to me. I don’t want to hear lies.”

“Objection! Witness is being intimidated.”

“Overruled.”

“Do you recognize these knives, or don’t you?”

Danny hesitated. “Okay,” he said at last. “I think maybe I recognize them.”

“Never mind thinking maybe. Yes or no? Do you or don’t you?”

“All right, yes. I do.”

“Which one is yours?”

“I don’t know.”