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MY TRIAL BEGINS

furniture was wooden. The prosecutor, known as the fiscal, sat on one side of the room and the judge's desk was up the front, in front of a Bolivian flag hanging on the wall. Everyone else, including my lawyers and I, sat in the middle of the room on uncomfortable chairs that made a terrible noise when you moved them. For my first appearance, there weren't enough chairs, so the police had to go out and borrow some from other courtrooms.

When I first saw the judge coming in, I was hopeful.

'Please stand,' called one of the court officials. Everyone bowed as the judge took his seat. He had a nice face. It looked like the face of someone who had children. I know that doesn't sound important, but when it's your trial, the judge's face is something you notice.

The proceedings began very slowly. Everything that was said had to be typed using an old-fashioned typewriter. The typist was fast, but it was impossible for him to keep up with everyone, especially when they all talked at once. Often he had to interrupt in order to get people to repeat what they had just said. On top of that, whenever anyone spoke, they had to wait for my interpreter to make the translation into English.

I watched the judge closely. I found it hard to believe that this man had received fifteen thousand dollars from my lawyers and was now sitting there, pretending he hadn't. At first, this made me feel confident; I thought he was a good actor. However, he kept his performance up for so long that I began to doubt whether he was corrupt at all.

In the whole time I was there, the judge looked at me only once, when the prosecutor said my name and pointed to me. When the judge's eyes met mine, his expression was completely blank and there was no hint of softness in his face. I began to wonder whether the two bribes had reached him. By the end of the afternoon, I was convinced that they hadn't.

No significant developments occurred during that first hearing. I had been hoping that the judge would dismiss the charges immediately, but it had become obvious that this was not his intention. Reaching a finding of inocente was going to take longer than expected. My second court appearance was scheduled for three weeks later.

'How did it go?' asked Ricardo, when I arrived back at San Pedro. He had been waiting for me at the gates.
'I don't know. It's hard to say.'