They seemed to think they owed me an apology for not being able to get food into the dark cell until the second night, explaining in great detail how they had to get two gay cats moved out of the cell above me and have two members of the “Johnson family” put in it, who would attend to the matter. I was instructed by them to ask for an immediate trial; the captain had declared that he would keep me in the cooler till I either got acquitted or went to work pumping.
The next morning the man from Judge Powers’ office was in court and told me to plead not guilty. When this formality was done with, he asked for a trial on the earliest possible date, saying that it would not take more than two hours to try the case.
“Two hours,” said the judge, looking over his calendar, “how would the day after to-morrow do?”
There was no objection from either side. The case was set for trial. I went back to the prison and into the cooler. That evening my rations came down as usual. The guard gave me my blanket, but I couldn’t sleep. Everybody was confident I would be acquitted, but I was afraid. I remembered my experience in Denver when the judge gave me fifteen days without a hearing, and at Port Costa when Casey gave us ten days. I imagined the procedure would be about the same in this case and was very uneasy.
The next evening I was sent back to my cell. I found plenty to eat waiting me, and after a good supper my case was tried by my cellmate lawyers. They threshed it out from every conceivable angle, and declared that if I got convicted I would have to do it myself on the witness stand. They were so sure I wouldn’t come back that George gave me a ten-dollar bill.
“Take that, Kid, you’ll need it. You can send it back when you feel able.”
I promised to write them, and we agreed on a fictitious name for me to use. They all shook hands, bade me good-bye, and sent me away in high hopes.
Judge Powers himself was in court the next morning. A fine, tall, gray, elderly gentleman, he patted me on the back in a fatherly manner.
“Young man, I am going to put you on the witness stand and ask you one question: ‘Are you guilty or not guilty of this charge?’ You answer ‘No,’ and don’t answer any other questions from anybody unless I tell you to.”
The jury was drawn in ten minutes. The witnesses that testified at the police court came on in the same order and gave the same testimony. Judge Powers asked the veiled woman we were preparing to rob if she had seen me at her house on the night in question or on any other night. She answered that she saw but one man, the one she shot. The detectives confined themselves to the truth. Powers looked at his watch with the air of a busy man being detained over a trifling matter, and dismissed them without cross-examination. He waved the landlord off the stand without questioning him. When the prosecutor said: “That’s our case, Your Honor,” Powers looked at him, and then to the jury.