Even though Christal had been expecting the worst, and, so she thought, had prepared herself for the moment, his words smashed against her consciousness with sledge-hammer force. All the color drained from her face, and though momentarily staggered by their jolting suddenness, she struggled to regain her composure. She looked at Rosemary and saw in her eyes a need to be comforted; to be assured that, even after having been dealt the cruelest of blows, life was still worth living. She walked to Rosemary and wrapped her tightly in her arms.
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
Squinting through the bright sunlight, Jack noticed another figure—a very small figure. He readjusted his glasses. “But who’s that with him?” They all strained trying to get a better view. Harriet, her mouth agape, watched a little girl hop out of the car and reach for the man’s hand.“Oh my God!” Harriet cried out. “A kid! He’s got a dammed kid with him!” Guard Young stood beside the car while leaning in through the open window, apparently talking to someone and making it suddenly all too apparent that there were three other children romping in the back seat.She screamed, “Holy mother of God—he’s got a whole car full of kids!”
.........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
“What’s going on, honey?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly. “This Hansen thing has me plenty worried. What’s the real story?”“It’s not looking good, Bernie,” he said. “I just got myself caught up in a crazy web of circumstances.” Boles maintained his innocence and Bernice was ready to believe him.“George, if you tell me positively that you had nothing to do with this murder, I’ll do everything I can to see that you get a good criminal lawyer to help you out of this jam.” Boles was clearly affected by Bernice’s willingness to go to bat for him, and after a moment’s thought he said softly, “I can’t do that to you, Bernie,” his voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper. “I did it.” And for the next hour, Bernice, though utterly shocked by Boles’ candid admission, listened intently as he spilled out the whole gruesome story—Santo, Perkins, Henson—everything. The police had it right.
....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
Milton Schwartz, like a sprinter coming out of his starting blocks, sprang immediately to his feet and without wasting any words on niceties, he went straight to Perkins’ record. “Mr. Perkins,” he began, “Would you please tell the court your current address.”
Perkins was clearly rattled by the sudden change in tenor; from his own lawyer’s gentle approach to the prosecutor’s aggressive, even hostile, demeanor and after a long moment’s hesitation, his answer came in a voice barely above a whisper. “San Quentin,” he said as he began to squirm uncomfortably in the straight-back witness chair.“San Quentin prison,” Schwartz emphasized, his tone as disdainful as he could possibly frame it. Turning to face the jury, he almost spat the words out. “You’re incarcerated in San Quentin Penitentiary. Is that right, Mr. Perkins?” Again, Perkins hesitated before answering and again, his answer was only barely audible above the ambient courtroom background sounds. “Yes.”