“Yes.”
“What you really saw was a person at a bulletin board and a white company truck. What you told people was, ‘I saw David Mercer taking those posters down.’”
“Yes.”
“Because you were angry.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve never seen David Mercer harm, Caroline Simms.”
“No.”
“You’ve never seen him lay a hand on her.”
“No.”
“You never went to the sheriff’s office back then and said, ‘I saw him take those down.’”
“No,” he said. “Didn’t say nothin’ ’til the podcast.”
Eleanor let the jury look at him for a moment—at the slumped shoulders, the shame.
“Mr. Ellison,” she said, “was it fair to tell this jury what you told them the first time?”
His face went red.
“No, ma’am,” he said. “It wasn’t.”
“Nothing further,” Eleanor said.
She stepped back.
Reid rose, walked to the lectern, and kept his questions short.
“Mr. Ellison,” he said, “did anyone from the district attorney’s office tell you to lie?”
“No.”
“Did anyone from law enforcement suggest you say you saw David’s face?”
“No.”
“You told them what you told them on your own.”
“Yes.”
He nodded once.
“No further questions.”
“Mr. Ellison, you may step down,” Judge Harlan said.
The witness left the stand, shoulders hunched, and slipped back into the gallery.
Judge Harlan turned to the defense table.
“Ms. Harper?”
