“Biblia pamoja na historia vinatwambia kuwa mitume kumi na wawili wa Yesu Kristo waliamua kufa kinyama kama mfalme wao alivyokufa, kwa sababu walikataa kukana imani yao juu ya Yesu Kristo. I'd even be able to claim for myself, I hope, that if I'd truly wanted to gouge a deep or vengeful wound I could or would have made a better job of it.” Only a tendency to paranoia or to all-explaining theories could suggest the contrary. That could not possibly have been true, especially in his cross-examination of Blumenthal, if he knew he had an ace in his vest-pocket all along. But every other fragment of Blumenthal's evidence and description shows-even boasts-that Congressman Graham was essentially punching air until the last day of the trial. I probably should have colluded with them, if my intention was to land a blow on Clinton (which it was) let alone to plant a Judas kiss on Blumenthal (which it was not). Why should my denial be believed? It's not as if I care. Feebly bridging the gap between sheer conjecture and outright conspiracy, Rogan is quoted as saying: 'Hitchens may well have called Lindsey.' I did not in fact do any such thing. Employing the confusing and confused testimony of Jude Wanniski (who he also describes as a political nut-case, if not a nut-case flat-out, and to whom he introduced me in the first place) Blumenthal suggests that I concerted my testimony in advance with the House Republicans, notably James Rogan and Lindsey Graham. “This brings us to the crux moment in the supposed 'Show Trial' melodrama. I tell the world the one true thing I know: If my son is in Hell, then there is no Heaven-because if my son sits in Hell, there is no God.” The world tells me that God is in Heaven and that my son is in Hell. On the day of my son's birth I was infused with a love beyond all measure and understanding. I loved my son every day of his life, and I will love him ferociously long after I've stopped breathing. I remember holding my son, and looking over at my own mother and saying, "Now I understand why the sun comes up at day and the stars come out at night. The moment the midwife placed him in my arms, I was infused with a love beyond all measure and understanding. I remember the morning my son was born as if it was yesterday. And though my heart keeps beating only to keep breaking-I do not question why. I was not able to finish burying him before sundown, and I'm not sure if that affected his fate. I discovered his body alone, I dug his grave alone, I placed him in a hole, and covered him with dirt and rock alone. It is not in the natural order of things.