A Matter of Conviction

“Yes, yes. I don’t want to answer no more questions. I don’t want to—”

“How many times did you stab him?”

“Four, four.”

“Why?”

“I told you. He...”

“Why, Danny?”

“I don’t know!”

“You knew it was a harmonica, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

“No!”

“You knew! You knew! Tell me the truth, Danny!”

Randolph leaped from his chair. “Just a minute here! Just a—”

“Tell me the truth! You knew it was a harmonica. You saw it!”

“Yes, yes, I knew,” Danny shouted. “All right? I knew.”

“Then why did you stab him?”

“I... I...”

“Why? Why, Danny? Why?”

“The... the... the others. Because the others... the others...”

“The others stabbed him?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“And so you stabbed him, too?”

“Yes. I stabbed him four times! What do you want from me? I stabbed him, I stabbed him, I stabbed him!”

“You didn’t stab him!” Hank shouted. “You’re lying!”

“What?” Danny said. “What?”

And then, before anyone fully realized what was happening, before the shock of Hank’s hurled words had worn off, he whirled to his table, snatched a blue folder from its top and thrust it at the court clerk. “I want this marked as evidence,” he said rapidly. “It’s a report from the New York City Police Laboratory on the weapons used in the Morrez slaying. The report states that the blades of only two of the knives were stained with blood. The blade of the third knife was clean. Only the handle of that knife had any blood on it.” He whirled back to Danny. “That was the knife you identified as yours, Danny! You turned the knife around, didn’t you? You only pretended to stab Morrez. You only struck his body with the handle of your knife!”

“No, no, I stabbed him!”

“Don’t lie, Danny! What the hell are you afraid of?”

“Order! Order!”

“I stabbed him, I stabbed him!”

“You’re lying!”

“I... I... I...”

And suddenly Danny Di Pace went limp. He slumped back into the chair, utterly resigned now, shaking his head over and over again, beginning to cry gently and quietly like a whimpering animal.

“Did you stab him?” Hank asked. His voice was almost a whisper.

“I never stabbed anybody in my life,” Danny mumbled through his tears. “Never, never, never. I never hurt nobody. Never, oh, Jesus, never, never.”

“All right, Danny,” Hank said gently.

“But I... I didn’t want them to think I was afraid. How could I let them know I was afraid? How could I do that?”

The reporters, led by Mike Barton, had already started their rush for the back doors. Mary Di Pace, sitting with her husband in the first row of benches, got to her feet and made an involuntary move toward her son.

“Order!” Samalson said quickly. “We will recess until two o’clock this afternoon. Will the district attorney and the defense counselors join me in my chambers immediately?” He rose.

“All rise!” the clerk shouted, and as Samalson swept out of the room, the court suddenly disintegrated into a rushing swirl of moving figures and raised voices.

On the witness chair, Danny Di Pace sobbed silently. Hank pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and said, “Here, son. Dry your eyes. It’s all over.”

“I shouldn’t be crying,” Danny said, trying to hold back the racking sobs. “Crying is for cowards.”

“Crying is for men, too,” Hank said, and he was grateful when Danny took the handkerchief.

He was stopped by Mary and her husband, stopped by the defense attorneys, stopped by the reporters who had made their rush calls and then hurried back into the courtroom. And finally he reached the side of his wife and daughter, and he held them to him, and Karin kissed him swiftly and cleanly and then looked up into his face, her eyes sparkling.

“You were wonderful!” she said.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Jennie said, and she squeezed his hand.

“I’ve got to go back to see Abe,” he told them. “Will you wait for me? We’ll have lunch together.”

“Hank, will there be trouble?”

“Maybe. I may lose my job, Karin.”

“There are other jobs,” she said.

“Yes. There are other jobs.” He paused. “I was scared stiff, Karin. Did it show? Could you tell my knees were trembling?”

“No, darling. You looked very brave — and very magnificent.”

“I was scared,” he said again. He paused. “But I’m not scared any more.” He laughed suddenly. “Damnit, all I am is hungry.”

“Hurry,” she said. “You mustn’t keep Abe waiting.”

“No.” He hesitated, clinging to her hand. “Karin?” he said.

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be all right.”

“I’m not worried,” she said.

“Good. Listen, wait for me, will you? I’ll be right back.” He paused again. “I love you both. Very much.”

And then he turned and walked toward the paneled door to the left of the judge’s bench. The sunlight covered his back for a moment, touched the erectly held head. He hesitated at the door. And then he pushed the door open purposefully and strode out of the courtroom.