Imagine, the nerve of me telling my attorneys what to do! Never called a judge at night in my life." Ted expected that he would get a fair trial in Aspen, and that it would not be difficult to pick an impartial jury in Pitkin County. He encouraged me to come for that trial if I could, and thought that the trial date would be set for sometime in early summer. As I read this letter, this letter where Ted seemed so in control, I remembered the young man who had cried "I want my freedom!" from that first jail cell in Salt Lake County. He was no longer afraid; he had acclimated to his incarceration and he was reveling in the prospect of the fight ahead. The letter closed with, "We are looking at a trial date in late June or early July-God willing and the D.A. doesn't shit in his expensive trousers." Yes, Ted had changed radically from the outraged, desperate man who wrote to me from jail in Salt Lake City eighteen months before. There was an asperity, a caustic bitterness now. I detected it in his phone calls to me.
