Dada 143

There were some titters in court as a handkerchief fell out of his sleeve onto his desk but then the prosecutor sprang to his feet. He was amazed he said at the ingenuousness of his learned friend. Could he not see that there hung between these two elements of the case a vital link a that hung together between the funeral, the pimps letter and the prisoner’s final action.’ ‘In short’ he concluded and speaking with great vehemence said, ‘I accuse the prisoner in his behaviour at all the above events that he showed he was already by his very nature, by his conversations and by his preferences to be, a murderer at heart.’ He drew himself as high as Kim Song had done and concluded ‘ a murderer of the ideals of these great islands and peninsulas.’ ‘What is more’ his voice came as little more than a whisper now. ‘ I shall demonstrate before you in the habitus of a common clerk all that is wrong in this court room today and all that is wrong with this man and all that was wrong with stain left on his poor family who only by the actions of their senior members, prevented more acute harm being done to the strong federal structure that we enjoy in Malaysia today. He continued with this narrative of betrayal and subterfuge since my Dada a communist sympathiser had led out the seaman of nearly fifty years ago and my familial links with him. This , far more important than the accusatory knife that lay before him on the table became entwined with my father’s rattan lash to encourage my acts of contrition. Blood was at the heart of it. ‘Exhibit A’ he gestured and held out the knife in its plastic folder before him, ‘is the murder weapon and ‘he pointed to me.’ There stands before you, the murderer. ’ ‘A baby taken away’