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JACK NEXT CALLED HERMAN TILL back to the stand. “Mr. Till, we’ve heard how big and strong Mr. Washington is, correct?”
“Yes.”
“But looks can be deceiving, right?”
“I don’t follow.”
Jack picked up the autopsy report from his table and brought it back to Till. “Now, you described for the jury the attack on the Randolphs when Mr. Battle was questioning you. You said it was like someone was swinging a tennis racket? You described it the same way for me and my co-counsel when we met with you.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Jack picked up the murder weapon, still wrapped in plastic, and handed it to Till. “Could you step out here and demonstrate for the jury exactly what you mean?”
Till took the bayonet and stepped out of the witness box. He squared his shoulders, and said, “The blows were delivered by a right-handed person, like I am. And, I believe, like this.”
He rotated his hips, pivoted his left foot, putting most of his weight on that leg and then swung the bayonet up and then forward and down with his right hand, bringing it across his chest. Jack noted that Till raised his right heel as he did so.
“Just like that, then, you’re sure?”
“Pretty darn sure, yes. Though with Mr. Randolph it was an upstroke. The depths of the wounds demonstrate they were administered with considerable force and velocity. No matter how big you are, you’d have to get your body into it. And no one will stand rigid when wielding a weapon like that.”
“Okay, you can step back into the witness box. Hang on to that thing for now. Your Honor, I request permission to have Mr. Washington assist me in a little experiment right here in the middle of the courtroom. Only take a minute.”
“Be quick about it,” groused Ambrose.
Jack rolled up the autopsy report and held it out to Jerome. “Now, Jerome, you just saw what Mr. Till did. I want you to stand up and copy his movements exactly, with this paper serving as your weapon.”
Jerome said gamely, “Okay, Mr. Lee, I give it a try.”
“Come on out here in the center of the room so the jury can see you.”
Jack watched the jury closely as Jerome used the table to lever himself up and then limped heavily out to where he was standing in front of them. Jack could see that several of the jurors looked surprised at the big man’s limited mobility and weak leg.
“Okay, Jerome, go ahead. Swing it just like Mr. Till did,” instructed Jack.
Jerome raised the paper, took a breath, and tried to move his legs. But the instant he put all his weight on his bad leg, he fell heavily to the floor.
He cried out in pain and grabbed at the limb.
Till and Jack rushed to help him up, as did the bailiff. The three of them managed to get the big man back on his feet.
“Sorry,” said a shamefaced Jerome as he hopped over to the table and used it to support himself. “I ain’t able to put all my weight like that on my left leg. Stupid to try.”
Till looked stunned. “You got that injury in the war?”
“Yes sir.”
A puzzled Till glanced over at Battle, who caught the man’s look and frowned.
Jack thanked Jerome and helped him back to his seat.
Till returned to the witness stand, and Jack said, “Okay, after seeing all that, is it your professional opinion that the defendant could have wielded the murder weapon in such a way as you described to kill the Randolphs?”
“Well, I don’t see how,” said Till. “You’d have to move your feet like I showed you or something close to it. You’d have to put your full weight into it to inflict the sorts of injuries that were on the bodies.”
“Now, in your report, you said the blows on Mrs. Randolph were delivered above to below, like this, correct?” Jack lifted his arm and then brought it downward.
“Yes.”
