Wine and Gun

After Armalite finished his defense, the entire gallery was boiling, and the judge had to strike the gavel twice to keep everyone quiet.

By the time Amalette was taken away from the courtroom by the police, every journalist was frantically pressing forward, trying to pry a useful sentence or two out of the mouth of the incomprehensible suspect, but they were caught by the police. Relentlessly separated.

It was at this time that Amarette suddenly looked at a certain position in the auditorium—Professor Olga Molozze, who had just woken up from a deep coma, was sitting there. Seriously, this lady could appear in the auditorium. In the courtroom, I was also very surprised.

It was obvious that Amalette had something to say, so the tumultuous crowd fell silent, waiting for him to speak. I saw the bailiffs shove him roughly on the shoulders, trying to get him out of the courtroom, and Amarette raised her voice slightly and said something I couldn't understand—

"Nine," he said to Olga Molozze, "now it's nine."

I heard that these two were old friends, maybe it was some code between them, so Ms. Molozer gave him a knowing smile.

"Thank you for your willingness to work on that one," she replied.

This was the scene of Herstal Amalet's last public appearance before he was held at the New Takr Federal Prison awaiting his upcoming trial.

The trial is scheduled for next Wednesday -- the 28th, and by then we'll know exactly how Armalette intends to conduct his defense and whether he can escape a first-degree murder charge. I believe this is a very ironic example, we all know that Slade deserves what he deserves, but he is now getting away with it (sources say that his life is out of danger, transferred from ICU to single ward, although the hospital The extent of his brain damage was not disclosed, but he undoubtedly saved his life), and the killer of such a demon could have been in the electric chair.

Was Herstal Armalette really a Westland pianist? If Amalet is convicted, he may not escape the death penalty. In that case, the truth might also be buried six feet below, and ultimately unknown.

It was nearly ten o'clock on Saturday night, and Father Anderson was still sitting in the cubicle on the side of the confessional. Soon, his work for the day will be over. At this time, there are no people praying in the church. The light of the crystal lamp is silently lit, casting a veil-like light on the entire nave of the church.

Father Anderson is not young anymore. An hour or two in the confession room is enough to make his back sore. Just as he was about to get up and leave, there was a grid of wooden bars on the other side of the confession room. The door opened, and a man with chestnut-colored hair pulled it open and sat in. So the priest could only suppress a sigh in his heart and straighten his back slightly.

"Father, I'm guilty." The other party started this confession with such a lawful beginning.

So the priest asked, "My child, what crime have you committed?"

Across the wooden fence, through that faint light, the priest saw the man slightly lift the corner of his mouth, as if it was a smile—he didn't say the usual reason for penitents, what? "I haven't come to pray for many days", "I don't have enough relationship with my family", "I am unfaithful to my wife", for these confessions, Father Anderson can give his own advice smoothly in his sleep.

On the contrary, the man spoke vaguely and digressed, saying: "I believe this sin is called 'bào anger' - Father, you must be familiar with the story of Hagar in the Bible?"

Father Anderson, at a loss as to the direction of the conversation, responded slowly: "…Yes?"

"Abraham drove Hagar and her sons away, and gave them only some water and food," the other party's voice sounded very calm, a tone suitable for storytelling, "they were in the wilderness of Beersheba. Lost in the middle of the road, the water in the water bag was all drunk, and Ishmael fell into a coma because of thirst. At this time, the power of God opened Hagar's eyes, and she found a well in the wilderness, Hagar He saved Ishmael with the water from this well."

The other party paused for a while, and Father Anderson didn't speak. Based on his understanding of the people who came to confess, there must be something else behind this inexplicable remark, and that was the focus of this person.

"Assuming there is a word of God in this world, then He directed me to a well," the confessor continued, as if reciting a bland fact, "It's like the fountain of youth in fairy tales, the only thing you can think of that can be called It's something miraculous."

Father Anderson's lips parted silently. After all, it would be too impolite to say "Assume there is a God in this world" in a Catholic church.

But obviously the silence brought about by his good manners did not bring a turn for the conversation. The other party continued: "But since there is no god in the world, I guess that all this can only be attributed to my own efforts."

Father Anderson finally couldn't help but say, "Sir—"

Search [Book Reading Assistant] official address: www.kanshuzhushou.com Millions of popular books are free to read for life without advertisements!