DAMNING EVIDENCE

Prosecutor Gupta held a tape up for the jury to see. "This is a recorded testimony from the victim, Emma Geller herself. She was unable to come to court in person because she is too ill to be transported from the hospital. I'll say no more, because this footage speaks for itself."

Gupta slipped a tape into the video player. The screen flickered to life. A fragile blonde little girl in a white polyester gown appeared on-screen. She sat in a hospital bed, attached to various tubes and IV bags. Her skin and the whites of her eyes were tinged yellow from the beginnings of liver failure. What little liver Dr Montgomery had salvaged after the accident, was beginning to fail Emma. Constable Vaughn's voice is heard in the background.

"Emma, how did you get that injury on your tummy?"

"I was cutted by a knife."

"How did you get cut by a knife?"

"Uncle Chandler cutted me."

"Do you know why he cut you?"

"Because I was wanted to play with him, but he didn't want to, he said no."

"What did you do when he refused to play with you?"

"I kicked and punched many times all over on him."

"What happened when you kicked and punched him many times?"

"He got mad, he was shouted real angry, says 'stop it, stop it!', and then he stabbed me with the knife."

"Where did he get the knife from, Emma?"

"The kitchen."

"What was he doing with the kitchen knife before he stabbed you?"

"He was cutted some pumpkins for Jack and Erica to eat. Then I disturbs him when he's cutting pumpkins, so he was mad."

Gasps could be heard all around the courtroom. Swayed by the footage, and instantly convinced of Chandler's guilt, the jury glared at Chandler, their lips curling downwards in disgust. They had heard it from the victim herself. This was it, it was a done deal. To the jury, all other evidence, arguments and expert witnesses, felt like mere due process this viscous bastard was unworthy of. The prosecution switched off the tape.

Chandler wore a coarse bright orange polyester jumpsuit, courtesy of NY Prison facility. Now that he had been formally charged with a criminal offence, the State was entitled to imprison him till the trial ended, unless he could post bail to the tune of US$2 million. This was standard legal procedure designed to prevent criminals absconding out of American legal jurisdiction. If found guilty of attempted murder, the time spent in prison during the trial would count as time already served.

Chandler closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temple. The blood drained from his face, he couldn't control his shivering. He knew this piece of evidence was bound to crop up. His defence lawyer had warned him as much. Prosecutor Gupta had been legally obliged to reveal the existence and nature of the tape during the discovery procedure prior trial. In fact, Chandler had read the full transcript of the video. Still, it knocked the wind out of him, seeing it and hearing it in person.

Why was little Emma doing this to him? What was she doing? Was she lying? Confused? Playing pretend? Punishing him for his neglect? Could a little girl possibly be so vindictive?

He tugged at his jumpsuit collar, desperate to loosen it. It felt like a noose choking off his air supply. In effect, the video tape was Chandler's noose. To see a video of a fragile, sickly little girl identify the man who tried to kill her, well, there's no evidence more damning than that, especially to an impressionable, emotionally-charged jury.

The four walls of the mahogany hall closed in on Chandler, caging him in. He felt a desperate urge to bust through the double doors and go running for the hills. Only he was handcuffed to the table, flanked by prison guards, and knew full well there was no escape from this blatant lie. The child had sealed his fate. He was a doomed man. In the docks, his parents wept for him, and his wife stared straight ahead, her bottom lip quivering, as she tried desperately to hold onto her emotions.