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jabbed into her side. I was terrified that it would go off.”
    “So, would it not be accurate to say that for most of the duration of this event you were looking at the gun, not at the perpetrator’s
     face?”
    Jagoda’s gaze left the attorney’s face and swept out a semicircle across the floor, coming to rest on a far wall. Barely audible,
     he said, “Perhaps. I can’t be sure.”
    Herrera nodded gently, as though he and the witness had arrived at an understanding. Then he moved a few steps closer to him.
     “Now, sir, is it correct to say that you identified the defendant first from pictures shown you by the police and then from
     a lineup of six people?”
    “Yes.”
    “What did Detective Swayze say to you as you prepared to view the lineup?”
    “Objection. Your Honor, you’ve already ruled that the speaker is the best source—”
    “In this instance,” Herrera interrupted with a touch of indignation, “the speaker has already said he doesn’t remember.”
    Judge Quinn looked from Herrera to Johnson to Jagoda, then pursed his lips and said, “Overruled. The witness may answer.”
    Jagoda nodded. “He instructed me to view each of the men carefully and select the assailant.”
    “‘Select the assailant.’ Were those his exact words?”
    “I don’t believe so, but—”
    “Let me put it another way. Did he say, in effect, ‘Is it one of them?’ or did he say, ‘Which of them is it?’”
    “The latter is closer.”
    “Let’s clarify that. He asked not
if
one of them did it, he asked
which
of them did it. Is that correct?”
    “Yes.”
    “Now, Mr. Jagoda, you said that shortly after your first sight of Mr. Vekt’s picture you suddenly remembered that the robber’s
     hair had seemed to shift as your wife pulled it. Why did you not say this in your first statement to the police, when you
     described the person as having shoulder-length blond hair?”
    “I didn’t remember it at the time. You must realize, I was in a state of shock.”
    “Yes,” Herrera said softly, “tell us about that.” Vekt looked up at him, puzzled.
    Jagoda, focused inward, continued. “The police had found me sitting on the ground, in a complete daze, with Annabelle in my
     arms. I didn’t realize that I had also been shot. They took me to the emergency room, where my arm was treated, then to the
     intensive-care unit to see her.
    “As we entered I heard a doctor say to the detectives, ‘She’s still alive, barely. Frankly, with that wound, we don’t know
     why.’
    “I looked through a glass partition at a mass of technology: tubes, machines, all attached to this papier-mâché creature:
     yellowish-gray skin, concave cheeks—surely not my Annabelle.”
    Vekt stared at Herrera. Why was he permitting, even encouraging, this ploy for sympathy?
    He drew a huge question mark on the yellow pad, but Herrera either failed or chose not to see it.
    “The doctor was explaining to me,” Jagoda was saying, “that all her functions were being mechanically supported, but his words
     floated by me, carrying their meaning away. The electronic beeps speeded up, and there was a great deal of to-ing and fro-ing,
     but then the sound changed to an unmodulated signal, and everyone suddenly stopped moving. The doctor looked at his watch
     and”—Jagoda inhaled deeply—“pronounced Annabelle dead, at two forty-six a.m.
    “Very soon afterward, the police took my statement. So you can see why I might have left something out.”
    Herrera sighed, as though moved. “So what you mean to tell us, Mr. Jagoda, is that because of trauma you had forgotten about
     seeing the hairline shift, but that on a later occasion you suddenly recalled it?”
    “Yes.”
    ____
    T WO CORRECTION OFFICERS escorted Vekt to the defense table at 10:15 a.m.; everyone else, except the judge, was in place.
    Herrera looked at him. Vekt straightened his tie. “How are you?” the lawyer asked.
    “Slept lousy. That tear-jerking stuff—the jury ate it