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“When he came in the house by himself that time, did Jerome use the front door?”
“Oh, no, sir. He ain’t never come in the front door. He always come in the back.”
“Nothing further.”
Battle stood. “Redirect, Your Honor. Now, Mrs. Robinson, were you with him every second while he was in the house?”
“No.”
“So he could have been in the front foyer and seen the bayonet then, correct?”
“I guess so,” replied Robinson.
“Nothing further.”
“Witness is excused,” said Ambrose.
“The commonwealth now calls Linda Drucker,” said Battle.
The doors opened and a petite, mousy woman appeared in the courtroom. She was dressed in an ankle-length skirt and flat shoes. Spectacles perched on her nose. Her hair was dark and short with irregularly clipped bangs.
She walked nervously up to the witness stand and was duly sworn in.
Battle approached and said, “Miss Drucker, where are you currently employed?”
“I’m a bookkeeper, but I’m between jobs right now.”
“On June fourteenth of this year did you have occasion to ride a bus?”
“I did.”
“Which bus?”
“The bus that picks up on Tyler Street.”
“And why were you on the bus that day?”
“I had done some shopping in the west end and I took the bus to meet a friend of mine at her house.”
“About what time were you on the bus?”
“I got on at around five thirty.”
“Did you have occasion to see someone get on the bus that day?”
“Yes,” replied Drucker.
“Is that person in the courtroom?”
“Yes.”
“Could you point the person out?” asked Battle.
“That’s her,” said Drucker, indicating Pearl.
Pearl shook her head violently. “No, no, no,” she said to herself. “That ain’t true.”
Battle said, “Let the record reflect that the witness identified Pearl Washington.”
