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At 6:00 A.M. a bored guard brought Tracy a breakfast of tepid coffee and cold oatmeal. She could not touch it. Her stomach was in knots. At 9:00 a matron came for her.
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"I must make a call," Tracy said. "It's very---"
"Later," the matron told her. "You don't want to keep the judge waiting. He's a mean son of a bitch."
She escorted Tracy down a corridor and through a door that led into a courtroom. An elderly judge was seated on the bench. His head and hands kept moving in small, quick jerks. In front of him stood the district attorney,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Ed Topper,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], a slight man in his forties,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], with crinkly salt-and-pepper hair cut en brosse, and cold,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], black eyes.
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