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medieval torture, and I m sure it felt that way to Sam.
The bailiff, a tall young man in a green uniform, approached Sam.
Please raise your right hand.
Sam Cabot cast his eyes wildly from side to side. He sucked in some air and
spoke into the small green voice box. The voice that came out was an eerie and
unnerving mechanical sound.
I can t, Sam said.
Chapter 90
SAM S VOICE NO LONGER sounded completely human, but his young face and his
small frail body made him seem more fragile and vulnerable than any other
person in the room. The people in the gallery murmured in sympathy as the
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bailiff turned to JudgeAchacoso .
Judge?
Administer the oath, bailiff.
Do you swear to tell the truth, so help you God?
I do, said Sam Cabot.
Broyles smiled at Sam, giving the jury enough time to really hear, see, and
absorb the pitiful state of Sam Cabot s body and imagine what a hell his life
had become.
Don t be nervous, Broyles said to Sam. Just tell the truth. Tell us what
happened that night, Sam.
Broyles took Sam through a set of warm-up questions, waiting as the boy
closed his mouth around the air tube. His answers came in broken sentences,
the length of each phrase determined by the amount of air he could hold in his
lungs before drawing on the mouthpiece again.
Broyles asked Sam how old he was, where he lived, what school he went to,
before he got to the meat of his interrogation.
Sam, do you remember what happened on the night of May tenth?
I ll never forget it . . . as long as I live, Sam said, sucking air from
the tube, expelling his words in bursts through the voice box. It s all I
think of . . . and no matter how hard I try . . . I can t get it out of my
mind. . . . That s the night she killed my sister . . . and ruined my life,
too.
Objection, Your Honor, Yuki rose and said.
Young man, said the judge, I know this is difficult, but please try to
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confine your answers to the questions.
Sam, let s back up, said Mason Broyles kindly. Can you tell us the events
of that night, and please take it step-by-step.
A lot of stuff happened, Sam said. He sucked at the tube and continued.
But I don t remember . . . all of it. I know we took Dad s car . . . and we
got scared. . . . We heard the sirens coming. . . . Sara didn t have her
license. Then the air bag burst. . . . All I remember . . . is seeing that
woman . . . shoot Sara. . . . I don t know why she did it.
That s okay, Sam. That s fine.
I saw a flash, the boy continued, his eyes fastened on me. And then my
sister . . . she was dead.
Yes. We all know. Now, Sam. Do you remember when Lieutenant Boxer shot you?
Within the small arc permitted by his restraints, Sam rolled his head from
side to side. And then he started to cry. His heart-wrenching sobs were
interrupted by the sucking of air and enhanced by the mechanical translation
of his wails through the voice box.
It was an unearthly sound, unlike anything I d ever heard before in my life.
Chills shot up my spine and, I was quite certain, everyone else s.
Mason Broyles quickly advanced across the floor to his client, whipped a
hankie out of his breast pocket, and dabbed at Sam s eyes and nose.
Do you need a break, Sam?
No . . . sir. . . . I m okay, he brayed.
Your witness, Counsel, said Mason Broyles, shooting us a look that was as
good as a dare.
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Chapter 91
YUKI APPROACHED THE thirteen-year-old killer, who looked even younger and
more pitiable now that his face was red from weeping.
Are you feeling a little better, Sam? Yuki asked, putting her hands on her
knees and stooping a little so that her eyes met his.
Okay, I guess . . . considering, said Sam.
Glad to hear it, said Yuki, standing, taking a few steps back. I ll try to
keep my questions brief. Why were you in the Tenderloin District on May
tenth?
I don t know . . . ma am. . . . Sara was driving.
Your car was parked outside the Balboa Hotel. Why was that?
We were buying a newspaper . . . I think. . . . We were going to go to the
movies.
You think there s a newsstand inside the Balboa?
I guess so.
Sam, you understand the difference between a lie and the truth?
Of course.
And you know that you promised to tell the truth?
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Sure.
Okay. So, can you tell all of us why you and Sara were carrying guns that
night?
They were . . . Dad s guns, the boy said. He paused for breath and maybe
for thought as well. I took a gun out of the glove compartment . . . because
I thought those people . . . were going to kill us.
You didn t know that the police were trying to pull you over?
I was scared. . . . I wasn t driving, and . . . everything happened fast.
Sam, were you on crank that night?
Ma am?
Methamphetamine. You know ice, get-go, beanies.
I wasn t on drugs.
I see. Do you remember the car accident?
Not really.
Do you remember seeing Lieutenant Boxer and Inspector Jacobi help you out of
the car after it crashed?
No, because I had blood in my eyes. . . . My nose broke. . . . All of a
sudden . . . I see guns, and the next thing I know . . . they shot us.
Do you remember shooting Inspector Jacobi?
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The kid s eyes widened. Was he surprised by the question? Or was he simply
remembering the moment?
I thought he was going to hurt me, Sam croaked out at last.
So you do remember shooting him?
Wasn t he going to arrest me?
Yuki stood her ground as she waited for Sam s lungs to fill. Sam. Why did
you shoot Inspector Jacobi?
No. I don t remember . . . doing that.
Tell me: Are you under a psychiatrist s care?
Yeah, I am. . . . Because I m having a hard time. Because I m paralyzed . .
. and because that woman murdered my sister.
Okay, let me ask you about that. You say that Lieutenant Boxer murdered your
sister. Didn t you see your sister fire at Lieutenant Boxer first? Didn t you
see the lieutenant lying on the street?
That s not how I remember it.
Sam, you remember that you re under oath?
I m telling the truth, he said, and sobbed again.
Okay. Have you ever been inside the Lorenzo Hotel?
Objection, Your Honor. Where is this going?
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Ms. Castellano?
It ll become apparent in a second, Your Honor. I just have one more
question.
Go ahead, then.
Sam, isn t it true that right now you re the prime suspect in the
investigation of multiple homicides?
Sam turned his head a few degrees away from Yuki and bellowed in his
soul-searing, mechanically aided voice, Mr. Broyles.
Sam s voice tailed away as the air went out of him.
Objection! No foundation, Your Honor, Broyles shouted above the murmurs
washing over the room and the slams of JudgeAchacoso s gavel.
I want that question struck from the record, Broyles shouted, and I ask
Your Honor to instruct the jury to disregard
Before the judge could rule, Sam s eyes wheeled frantically.
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