In fifth grade, our room was arranged in 4 desk clusters. I got sat next to the girl I had a crush on. Aleah Fox. One day, the teacher announced she’d be changing our seats.
I wrote a note begging Mrs. Suplicki not to sit Aleah next to another boy.
Leave our seats where they are. Sit her with some girls. Just don’t let her sit next to another boy…
Watching the lead federal prosecutor today, I saw my fifth-grade self… stammering, stuttering, blushing, trying to verbalize my reasoning when she asked, “Why?”
Oh Judge… Please don’t let Norm and Kosta talk tonight.
The request says everything about the feds confidence in themselves and their case. It also speaks to their ethics.
Reasonable doubt was all over the room when Norm and Kosta finished for the day. People were tracking it out into the hall on their wingtips. I saw some on Mike Savino’s ridiculous bow tie. There is no way ‘blue blouse,’ ‘stringy white hair,’ ‘glasses,’ ‘jeans,’ ‘beard man’ or the rest of the jury made it out without some on or in them.
On the elevator. Alone, I began to process the danger and gravity of what I’d witnessed in the court room, it was like watching Alex Honnold free solo El Capitan.
Doors closing. Less than 6 inches before solid steel met. An open vertical palm thrust into the elevator with such force and confidence that it jolted me from my thoughts; and I had trouble processing what just happened. When my brain caught up to my eyes, I was standing face to face with Kosta Diamantis. And the doors were closed.
I can’t think of an interaction that sums the man up better. An average person would have waited for the next elevator. He knew the door wouldn’t crush his hand. With no hesitation. He went for it. Probably trying to get the hell away from whatever.
5 daughters. An ex wife. A cousin. Himself. All standing by his side. You can add my name to that list. Kosta hasn’t been given a fair shake. Not by a mile.
Kevin Blacker
Noank, CT