“What’s unprintable about that?”

“Walter-” The assistant prosecutor was looking at Mr. Majestyk, marking his place with the tip of his ballpoint pen. “Camacho goes on to say: ‘One reason I allowed him to join my crew in San Antonio was because he said he was a mechanic and could fix the bus if it broke down. I hired him but was suspicious because I believed all he wanted was a free trip as far as Detroit-”

“He’s from Detroit?” Mr. Majestyk seemed surprised.

“From Highland Park,” the assistant prosecutor said. “The same thing. So then Camacho says: ‘When I asked him again to fix the bus, he picked up the bat and told me to get out of there or he would knock my head off. I told him to put down the bat and we would settle this, but he came at me with it. Before I could defend myself or disarm him, he struck me in the arm and in the face.’ “ The assistant prosecutor paused. “That’s the part, Walter. Listen. ‘Before I could defend myself or disarm him-‘ “

“He got flattened,” Mr. Majestyk said.

“ ‘-he struck me in the arm and in the face. I fell to the ground but was not unconscious. I remember many of the people there looking down at me. When the police came, they called an ambulance and I was taken to the hospital at Holden, Michigan.’ “ The assistant prosecutor went on, reading it faster. “ ‘This statement is sworn to before witnesses and bears my signature that all facts related are true and took place as I have described them.’ “ The assistant prosecutor straightened, looking at the Geneva Beach justice of the peace. “Walter, what do you think?”

Mr. Majestyk nodded, looking at the washed-out image on the screen. “I think he’s got a level swing, but maybe he pulls too much.”

Bob Rogers Jr. didn’t bring Ryan’s pay envelope until almost half past eleven Sunday morning. He told J. R. Coleman, the sheriff’s officer on duty, what it was and who it was for and Coleman said he thought it was supposed to have been dropped off yesterday; they were waiting to get rid of this guy Ryan.