Mr White

Mr White carried out the crime, it must be so.
Police caught him cleaning blood off his lips and though
He said it came from a last desperate kiss the anchormen
Disagree. TV knows the truth, has given him a life sentence,
Public opinion bets on his guilt, odds are now six to one.

Only he could have free access to the family abode,
Approach Mrs White so close. She must have trusted him
And ignored, he had lost faith in her when he saw, her flaws,
In the arms of an unknown improbable lover, to both
The handsome tennis coach.

He must have premeditated the vengeful actions,
Bought the rope in the grocery store, be it with her
Credit card. He must have obliged her to write the note,
It would explain the shaky scribble she left behind. He must have
Handled the neck loop with gloves, no killer DNA found.

The house is full of his fingerprints, yet it’s his own,
But none on the rope. His tears must be fake, his fright,
Cowardice. Mr White carried out the crime, it must be so.
He must have staged the whole suicidal show, he must
Be guilty, it must be so, prosecution says so.

But do we really know, beyond any reasonable doubt?
What if she had lost faith in him when she saw, his flaws,
In the arms of an unknown improbable lover to both,
The handsome tennis coach? Bought the rope with her own
Credit card, placed the loop around her neck and let go?

[Featured painting: Trial of George Jacobs of Salem for witchcraft by Matteson, Tompkins Harrison, 1813-1884]

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