My husband did not own a knit hat.

He was wearing a jacket I did not recognize and he was wearing gloves — blue, the thin kind, the kind that come out of a box — and in his left hand he had a small flashlight that he was not using.

In his right hand he was holding a syringe.

I want to be exact, because a defense attorney spent about ninety minutes on this eleven months later.

I could not, from a louvred slot in the dark at fourteen feet, identify a needle.