friend is making insinuations!”
“Sit down!” Havel roared. “What do you mean, Mr. Ferrati?”
“Irene Beck has testified that her former husband, the defendant, hit her on at least two occasions.”
“That was when we were separating. She hit me and I hit her back. For Christ’s sake, surely she’s not suggesting that…”
“Are you admitting or are you not admitting that you beat your former wife?”
Mitter made no reply. Rüger was on his feet again.
“My Lord, why are you allowing the prosecuting attorney to insinuate things that are completely irrelevant to the case?”
Havel’s face was now puce in color.
“I must insist that my learned friend sit down and refrain from interrupting! And that the prosecuting attorney kindly explain where he hopes his questions will lead.”
Ferrati smiled again. It seemed that he always smiled when he looked at the judge.
“I am merely trying to establish the extent of the defendant’s tendency to resort to violence.”
Havel appeared to be thinking.
“Might I request the defendant to answer the question?” he said eventually.
“What question?”
“If you did or did not beat your former wife.”
Mitter waited for several seconds before answering.
“I slapped her twice in thirteen years. Evidently that wasn’t often enough.”
His response triggered mutterings in the public gallery, but a look from Havel was enough to restore order. Meanwhile, an assistant had stepped forward to whisper something in Ferrati’s ear. The latter nodded, and stepped forward in turn to whisper something to the judge that Mitter was unable to hear. Havel seemed to hesitate, but then nodded.
Ferrati continued:
“Have you ever been violent toward your pupils, Mr. Mitter?”
“Objection!” yelled Rüger, who was beginning to look indignant.
“Overruled!” bellowed Havel. “Answer the question!”
“Never,” said Mitter.
“Is it not a fact that you were reported for striking a pupil? In March 1983, according to the information at my disposal?”
Ferrati looked pleased with himself. Mitter said nothing.
“Do you intend to reply, or don’t you remember?”
“I was reported, yes.”
“But nevertheless you claim that you have never been violent toward your pupils?”
“I was falsely accused. Declared wrongfully convicted, just as I shall be again now.”
More reaction from the gallery. This time it was so loud that Havel was forced to resort to his gavel.
“I must ask the public to remain silent during court proceedings…and to request the defendant to answer the questions put to him! Nothing else!”
Rüger obviously felt that this was the time to make a decisive intervention.
“My Lord, I really must insist that we call a halt to this line of questioning. My learned friend the prosecuting attorney has been asking irrelevant questions for far too long. His intention is clear: he is intent on maligning my client, because he has no solid evidence to support the prosecution case. If he is going to be allowed to continue, I must insist that he ask questions that are relevant to the case!”
For a moment it looked as if Havel were intent on aiming his gavel at Rüger’s skull, but in fact he turned to Ferrati: “May I ask that my learned friend come to the point!”
“By all means.”
Ferrati produced his friendly smile once more, this time directed at the jury. The two lady members were only too keen to smile back.
“Mr. Mitter, did you drown your wife?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because…because I didn’t do it.”
“You mean that you didn’t kill her because you didn’t kill her?”
Mitter allowed himself a couple of extra seconds’ thinking time before replying. Then he said, calm and restrained, “No, I
know
I didn’t kill her, because I didn’t kill her. Just as I’m sure that you
know
you are not wearing frilly knickers today, because you aren’t. Not today.”
The gallery exploded. Ferrati sat down. Havel
“Sit down!” Havel roared. “What do you mean, Mr. Ferrati?”
“Irene Beck has testified that her former husband, the defendant, hit her on at least two occasions.”
“That was when we were separating. She hit me and I hit her back. For Christ’s sake, surely she’s not suggesting that…”
“Are you admitting or are you not admitting that you beat your former wife?”
Mitter made no reply. Rüger was on his feet again.
“My Lord, why are you allowing the prosecuting attorney to insinuate things that are completely irrelevant to the case?”
Havel’s face was now puce in color.
“I must insist that my learned friend sit down and refrain from interrupting! And that the prosecuting attorney kindly explain where he hopes his questions will lead.”
Ferrati smiled again. It seemed that he always smiled when he looked at the judge.
“I am merely trying to establish the extent of the defendant’s tendency to resort to violence.”
Havel appeared to be thinking.
“Might I request the defendant to answer the question?” he said eventually.
“What question?”
“If you did or did not beat your former wife.”
Mitter waited for several seconds before answering.
“I slapped her twice in thirteen years. Evidently that wasn’t often enough.”
His response triggered mutterings in the public gallery, but a look from Havel was enough to restore order. Meanwhile, an assistant had stepped forward to whisper something in Ferrati’s ear. The latter nodded, and stepped forward in turn to whisper something to the judge that Mitter was unable to hear. Havel seemed to hesitate, but then nodded.
Ferrati continued:
“Have you ever been violent toward your pupils, Mr. Mitter?”
“Objection!” yelled Rüger, who was beginning to look indignant.
“Overruled!” bellowed Havel. “Answer the question!”
“Never,” said Mitter.
“Is it not a fact that you were reported for striking a pupil? In March 1983, according to the information at my disposal?”
Ferrati looked pleased with himself. Mitter said nothing.
“Do you intend to reply, or don’t you remember?”
“I was reported, yes.”
“But nevertheless you claim that you have never been violent toward your pupils?”
“I was falsely accused. Declared wrongfully convicted, just as I shall be again now.”
More reaction from the gallery. This time it was so loud that Havel was forced to resort to his gavel.
“I must ask the public to remain silent during court proceedings…and to request the defendant to answer the questions put to him! Nothing else!”
Rüger obviously felt that this was the time to make a decisive intervention.
“My Lord, I really must insist that we call a halt to this line of questioning. My learned friend the prosecuting attorney has been asking irrelevant questions for far too long. His intention is clear: he is intent on maligning my client, because he has no solid evidence to support the prosecution case. If he is going to be allowed to continue, I must insist that he ask questions that are relevant to the case!”
For a moment it looked as if Havel were intent on aiming his gavel at Rüger’s skull, but in fact he turned to Ferrati: “May I ask that my learned friend come to the point!”
“By all means.”
Ferrati produced his friendly smile once more, this time directed at the jury. The two lady members were only too keen to smile back.
“Mr. Mitter, did you drown your wife?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because…because I didn’t do it.”
“You mean that you didn’t kill her because you didn’t kill her?”
Mitter allowed himself a couple of extra seconds’ thinking time before replying. Then he said, calm and restrained, “No, I
know
I didn’t kill her, because I didn’t kill her. Just as I’m sure that you
know
you are not wearing frilly knickers today, because you aren’t. Not today.”
The gallery exploded. Ferrati sat down. Havel
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