“On the Broadway line?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be sure you were at 66th and not 28th?”
“I happen to remember. I was at 28th Street first. But someone was there. Sleeping in my spot. I didn’t want to wake him. So I caught the train to 66th.”
“And what did you do there?”
“Went to my usual spot. No one was there, so I lay down and went to sleep.”
“And where is your usual spot?”
“North end of the uptown platform. There’s a dumpster there. A little alcove behind it. That’s where I sleep.”
“And you went there that day?”
“That’s right.”
“And what did you do?”
“Like I said. I went to the alcove on the platform. No one was there. So I lay down and went to sleep.”
“Did you wake up at any time that day?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Tell us about it. How did that happen?”
“There was someone moving around. I heard voices. And someone stepped on my foot.”
“That woke you up?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The witness snuffled. Frowned. “Danger. That’s why. People mean danger. Have to be alert. I got nothin’ to steal, but even so. Some people wish you harm. I sleep light. Someone there, I know.”
“So, in any event, you woke up?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did you see?”
“First thing I saw was scary. Woke me up more.”
“Scary? And why was that?”
“’Cause it was strange. It was a kid with green hair.”
“Green hair?”
“Yes. And it wasn’t just that it was green. It was cut funny.” Joseph Bissel ran his hands along the side of his head. “You know. Like an Indian.”
“You mean a mohawk?”
“That’s right. Mohawk.”
“I see. That does sound scary,” Dirkson said. “So that terrified you, because you didn’t know what it was?”
Bissel shook his head. “No. I knew what it was. A teenager. They wear their hair like that. I knew. That’s why I was scared. Teenagers scare me.”
“I see,” Dirkson said. “Tell me. This teenager-the one with the green hair-was he alone?”
“No, sir.”
“There was someone with him?”
“Yes, sir. There was an old man.”
“And did you know the man?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And who was he?”
“Jack Walsh.”
“Jack Walsh? Then you knew Jack Walsh?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Where did you know him from?”
“From the subway. He was one of us. He used to sleep down there.”
“You’re sure it was Jack Walsh?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“No, but he spoke to me.”
“What did he say?”
“Just something like, It’s all right, Joe, go back to sleep.’”
“I see. And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Go back to sleep?”
Joseph Bissel shook his head. “Not right away.”
“What did you do?”
“I watched them.”
“Jack Walsh and the kid with green hair?”
“That’s right.”
“And what did they do?”
“They were talking.”
“Could you hear what they were saying?”
“Some of it I could.”
Dirkson looked up at the judge. “Some of this may be hearsay, You Honor, but I believe what Jack Walsh said at the time would be part of the
“So far there’s been no objection, Counselor,” Judge Grimes said. “Why don’t you proceed, and we’ll argue this if and when there is one.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. And what did you hear Jack Walsh say?”
“I only got the gist of it.”
Dirkson smiled. “The gist is all we want. What was it?”
“Something about how the boy had done him a favor, and now Jack was gonna do one for him.”
“Was that all?”
“That’s all I remember. There was some talk about a pen.”
“A pen?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what it was?”
“No, I don’t.”
“All right. And what did you see them do?”
“Well, they sat down on the platform.” Joseph Bissel frowned. “Actually, I think I heard this after they sat down on the platform-what I just told you, I mean. If that matters.”
Dirkson smiled. “I don’t think it does, but thank you for pointing it out to us. And did you see them do anything else?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what was that?”
“Well, he-Jack Walsh-he took some paper out of his pocket and started writing on it.”
“Do you know what he was writing?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Did you see
“Yeah. He spread the paper flat on the platform, and was bent over writing on it.”
“And the boy with green hair?”
“He was watching him write.”
“I see,” Dirkson said. “And the man who was writing on the paper-this was Jack Walsh, whom you’ve known personally for some time?”
“That’s right.”
