Dada 142

He was about to finish but muttered something of ‘bad blood’ as if passing a covert message around the court room. ‘We cannot be too careful’ he said. Iskra began to splutter and I could see his hairy arms bunch tight. My lawyer also expostulated. They were told that the prosecutor must be allowed to finish his remarks. ‘I have nearly done’ the prosecutor said in a tone of mock weariness. He then turned again to Iskra. ‘Was the prisoner your friend?’ ‘Certainly, we were the best of pals as they say. ‘ The prosecutor then put the same question to me. I looked hard at Iskra and he did not turn away but looked me direct in the eye. ‘Yes’ I said. The prosecutor turned with a glance to the bench but with his full face to the jury. ‘Not only did the man before you in the dock indulge in the most shameful of acts , of which we shall hear later, but on the days following his grandfather’s funeral, he killed two men in a furious cold blooded act. This no doubt, in pursuance of some sad vendetta that he had built in his head concerning the history of this island and his unhappy family in the formation of this land we now call the nation. His voice rose. ‘He conducted these acts in the underworld hell of iniquity of drugs and clubs and pimps and prostitutes. A life that is foreign to 99% of Malaysians. That my learned friend is the type of man that this court is set to try before you today.’ ‘ That, gentle people of the jury is the type of man who stands before you today. You shall know him by the category of his friends.’ No sooner had he sat down than my lawyer out of all patience and frustrated, raised his arms so high that the sleeves of his gown fell back to reveal the full length of his shirt cuffs and gold cufflinks. ‘Is my client on trial for having buried his grandfather or for killing two men’