matters to attend to, not the least of which is dealing with my father's money. It's financially crazy to just let it sit in the low-interest bonds, but I'm somehow not inclined to touch it yet. Maybe a shrink can tell me why that is, and I can certainly afford Sigmund Freud if he's available. And if I had the time.
Nicole has warmed up considerably, and she greets me with a glass of Chardonnay and a kiss. It feels nice, and I appreciate it, but I know that I'm not going to have the time to pay attention to her, and it gives me a pang of guilt. I talk to her about it and she understands, so after dinner I retreat to the den with Tara and get back to work.
I have to wade through the latest of Kevin's briefs, which argues that the death penalty should not be considered in this case. The main point he makes is the obviously unfair way it has been administered throughout the country. Not only has racial bias been clear, but the number of death row inmates that have been exonerated is staggering. In Illinois alone, over a fifteen-year period, more death row inmates were exonerated than executed.
Once again, Kevin's work is professional and well reasoned, a clear, concise indictment of the death penalty, and I make very few changes. Unfortunately, Kevin and I both know that it is once again destined for failure, at least as far as Hatchet is concerned. He has long been a pro-death penalty judge, and with an election coming up next year we're not likely to change his mind.
I've also given Kevin the assignment of preparing our witness list, as well as the job of going over the witness list that Wallace has provided us. As is the norm, Wallace has given us a voluminous list, with every conceivable person listed on it. There is no way he is going to call even ten percent of these people, but he wants us to use our limited time and resources looking into people that will not appear in court. It's not terribly nice, but it's the way the game is played. I've told Kevin to come to me or even to Willie with anyone on the list whose role in the case we're not sure of, so that we can be prepared for any eventuality.
So much to do, so little time. The trial date is approaching like a freight train, and we are in deep trouble. I fall asleep around two o'clock in the morning, without having accomplished much of anything except making myself even more tired.
THE ALARM GOES OFFAT SIX A.M. DID I go to school to be a lawyer or a dairy farmer? I take Tara for a quick walk, then shower and head for the office.
I'm in full work mode now, able to totally concentrate on the matter at hand. I find that when I'm in this mind-set, I can drive somewhere and not remember anything about the trip. It amazes me that I don't have accidents, but my instinct must take over.
This morning my mind is in total clutter, trying to juggle a million things that have to be done and examined. Kevin is coming in with a jury consultant for a meeting. I've never had much use for them, always trusting my instincts, but Kevin has convinced me to keep an open mind about it. After that, I'm going over to depose Victor Markham at his lawyer's office.
I arrive at my office at eight-thirty, which is too early for Edna to have gotten in, so I'm surprised when the door is unlocked. I'm also concerned that someone may have broken in during the night, but I look around quickly and don't see anything amiss.
A moment later I don't see anything at all, as either a fist or a baseball bat hits me on the side of the head. The rest is more than a little blurry, but I hear myself scream in slow motion, and fall to the ground.
I look up and see a man wearing a ski mask, and since it hasn't snowed in the office in quite a while, I instinctively cover up. That proves to be a good move, as he kicks me in the stomach and then punches me again in the chest and head.
My mind registers the fact that there is no one around to help me, that this monster can continue to kick and punch me