Stories: All-New Tales - By Neil Gaiman & Al Sarrantonio Page 0,140

Young taught. If there’s any way to put your location on record, it’s to be a middle-aged man parked outside a middle school. Eight concerned citizens gave the police his tag number.

The busboy at Etta’s Diner gave some very helpful testimony with the help of a Spanish translator.

As for Kobel himself, sitting at the defense table, his hair was askew and his suit didn’t fit right. He frantically filled notebook after notebook with writing like ant tracks.

Son of a bitch, thought Hollow. It was pure performance, orchestrated by Bob Ringling, Esq., of course, with Martin Kobel in the role of schizophrenic. Hollow had seen the police interview video. On screen the defendant had been well scrubbed, well spoken, and no twitchier than Hollow’s ten-year-old Lab, known to take naps in the middle of tornados.

Any other case, the trial would’ve been over with on the second day—with a verdict for the People, followed by a lengthy appeal and an uncomfortable few minutes while the executioner figured out which was the better vein, right arm or left.

But there was more, of course. Where the real battle would be fought.

Ringling’s expert psychiatrist testified that the defendant was, in his opinion, legally insane and unable to tell the difference between right and wrong. Kobel honestly believed that Annabelle Young was a threat to students and her son because she was infested by a neme, some spirit or force that he truly believed existed.

“He’s paranoid, delusional. His reality is very, very different from ours,” was the expert’s conclusion.

The shrink’s credentials were good, and since that was about the only way to attack him, Hollow let him go.

“Your Honor,” Ringling next said. “I move to introduce defense exhibits numbers one through twenty-eight.”

And wheeled up to the bench—literally, in carts—Kobel’s notebooks and self-published treatises on nemes, more than anybody could possibly be interested in.

A second expert for the defense testified about these writings. “These are typical of a delusional mind.” Everything Kobel had written was typical of a paranoid and delusional individual who had lost touch with reality. He stated that there was no scientific basis for the concept of neme. “It’s like voodoo, it’s like vampires, werewolves.”

Ringling tried to seal the deal by having the doctor read a portion from one of these “scientific treatises,” a page of utterly incomprehensible nonsense. Judge Rollins, on the edge of sleep, cut him off. “We get the idea, Counselor. Enough.”

On cross-examination, Hollow couldn’t do much to deflate this testimony. The best he could do was: “Doctor, do you read the Harry Potter books?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, yes, I have.”

“The fourth was my favorite. What was yours?”

“Umm, I don’t know really.”

“Is it possible,” the prosecutor asked the witness, “that those writings of Mr. Kobel are merely attempts at writing a novel? Some big fantasy book.”

“I…I can’t imagine it.”

“But it’s possible, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. But I’ll tell you, he’ll never sell the movie rights.”

Amid the laughter, the judge dismissed the witness.

There was testimony about the bizarre autopsy, which Hollow didn’t bother to refute.

Bob Ringling also introduced two of Kobel’s patients, who testified that they had been so troubled by his obsessive talk about these ghosts or spirits inhabiting their bodies that they quit seeing him.

And then Ringling had Kobel himself take the stand, dressed in the part of a madman in his premeditatedly wrinkled and dirty clothes, chewing his lip, looking twitchy and weird.

This idea—insane in its own right—was a huge risk, because on cross-examination Hollow would ask the man point-blank if he’d killed Annabelle Young. Since he’d confessed once, he would have to confess again—or Hollow would read the sentence from his statement. Either way the jury would actually hear the man admit to the crime.

But Ringling met the problem head-on. His first question: “Mr. Kobel, did you kill Annabelle Young?”

“Oh, yes, of course I did.” He sounded surprised.

A gasp filled the courtroom.

“And why did you do that, Mr. Kobel.”

“For the sake of the children.”

“How do you mean that?”

“She was a teacher, you know. Oh, God! Every year, thirty or forty students, impressionable young people, would come under her influence. She was going to poison their minds. She might even hurt them, abuse them, spread hatred.” He closed his eyes and shivered.

And the Academy Award for best performance on the part of a crazed murder suspect goes to…

“Now, tell me, Mr. Kobel, why did you think she would hurt the children?”

“Oh, she’d come under the influence of a neme.”

“That’s what we heard a little about earlier, right? In