"I don't know," Robey said, 'but it does seem like that's what the defense's driving at."

"Well, they've still got a lot of work ahead of them," she said. "Far as I'm concerned anyway. There would've been a clue. Something you could look at now and say: "Hey that was kind of strange. Someone should've noticed that. Taken his car keys away from him. Had him put away, or at least put him to bed. Given him some mood-elevators; jacked him up on feel-good pills."

"There is no such clue. He got up that morning down in Suffield, self-destruction on his mind, showered and dressed like he always did; had a good breakfast after that. Again: just like he always did. Man's almost fifty, same age I am now. By the time you've reached this stage in life, made something of yourself -this is a successful man here, came from modest circumstances and did pretty well for himself you've developed a full set of habits. A lot of the things that we do are repetitive, have to be done again every day, over and over again.

Habits simplify your life. You know what to do, it's automatic. Don't have to do so much thinking.

"That's what our Nicholas did that last day; he followed his regular habits. He seemed to be in good spirits. Showers and gets dressed and eats. He goes out of his ten-room house on an acre-plus of prime land, so we're told, got to be worth at least three or four hundred thousand dollars, in the neighborhood it's in. This looks like one happy guy.

He gets into his bright-yellow Saab convertible, drives himself up to Barnes Airport in Westfield; he's signed up for a gorgeous summer Sunday of sky-diving. Several times before he's done this without any mishap whatsoever, not even a sprained ankle. But this time it's going to be different. Today he's going to kill himself.

"If you think that, then there wasn't any accident or any negligence involved here. When he stepped out of that airplane, in his mind he was doing a perfectly normal, rational thing.