The only impressions I have of the trial are the fantastic images and scenes I invented in my dreams. The only facts I know are the ones I gathered from Denny’s retelling of events; my only idea of a courtroom, as I have said before, is what I learned from watching my favorite movies and television shows. I pieced together those days as one conjures a partially completed jigsaw puzzle—the frame is finished, the corners filled in, but handfuls of the heart and belly are missing.
Okay, so this is me using my writerly license to basically do anything I want, including have Enzo use Stephen Hawkings's voice generator. I mean, I got myself into a place where, narratively, there's no way I can have Enzo see things he can't possibly see. So how do we get out of it? A little writer's magic!
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