No Regrets

trial, many of us had to catch the 7:00 A.M . boat from Orcas to San Juan and we didn’t get home until 7:00 P.M . With the added problem of the snowdrifts, that was a challenge.”
    But not impossible. It was arranged that Deputy Steve Vierthaler would drive as close as he could to jurors’ homes on what roads were still passable on Orcas, and they would hike out to meet him.
    “I had to walk through snow up to my knees for half a mile,” Lisa Boyd said. “We all had to, and then we had to share his vehicle with his German Shepherd K-9 dog, but Steve got us to the ferry.”
    It would be four days before the snow melted off thenarrow back roads, but the Neslund trial continued without interruption.
    One juror described the scene in Friday Harbor the day after Thanksgiving. “Several of us went out to dinner after that day of trial,” she remembers. “We had to look for some place that was even open. Walking through Friday Harbor was like being in a Fairyland with all that snow. We felt like the only people on the planet...”
    The roof of the new courthouse sprang a leak during the snowstorm. “We came to work one morning,” Court Clerk Mary Jean Cahail remembered, “and, of all things, the ceiling had leaked onto the lid of the Neslunds’ trunk where it sat right there in the courtroom! We wondered what else could happen, but, fortunately, it didn’t hit the part of the trunk that held the stains and hair.”
    Rolf’s brother and sister made it to Friday Harbor. And the next day, Harald Naeslund recalled the adventurous life Rolf had lived and his devotion to his family. Harald testified that five years earlier he and his wife had been looking forward to an October visit to Rolf and Ruth’s lovely home. Harald’s wife would be seventy, and Rolf would be eighty that fall, an occasion to celebrate for both of them. Their plane tickets were for October 29, just six days before Rolf’s birthday.
    Harald said that Rolf had been content to be home from the sea, and full of plans to fix up his house and property. On the stand, he read from a letter Rolf had sent him on June 17, 1980, saying how much he appreciated being on solid land at last. “There’s too much to do from early in the morning,” he wrote. “About 10:00 A.M . I get life in my body and begin to think about what to do.”
    His last message to his brother in Norway was dated August 4, 1980—an enthusiastic postcard urging them to hurry and visit so they could swim in the Neslunds’ new pool.
    And then, nothing.
    It was Ruth who called on September 10 to say that Rolf had left her, and there was no need for them to come because their brother wasn’t there any longer.
    Eugenie Lindboe was not a young woman, but she walked with grace, her head held high. Her hair was still dark brown and skillfully cut, and she wore a black sweater, a mink vest, and a plaid black and white skirt. Around her neck, Eugenie wore several gold chains with charms and coins, and her shiny black boots reached to her knees. She had clearly come from money. The Naeslund family background was aristocratic, and Eugenie and Harald obviously wanted to explain that their lost brother was not a throwaway person or a confused and senile old man who had been ready to die.
    Eugenie walked down the courtroom aisle rapidly, and, with her back to the gallery and the defense and prosecution tables, she held her right hand high to take the oath.
    Then she climbed the few steps to the witness chair, but she did not sit down immediately. Still standing, she turned deliberately, and rested her hands on the rail. For what seemed like minutes, Eugenie stared at Ruth Neslund, willing her to look up and meet her eyes. Ruth would not do it. And then Eugenie shook her head negatively. Without saying a word, she had said whole chapters.
    Finally, she sat down in the witness chair. Eugenie spoke English perfectly but, of course, with a distinctScandinavian accent. She talked of happier times, her voice modulated but close to breaking. Rather than dissolve into tears, Eugenie occasionally fell silent until she regained her composure. She stressed that Rolf had not come to see them in Norway during the summer of 1980 or any time after. And Ruth had stopped calling her, despite her promise to stay in touch so they could find Rolf.
    “He was not only my brother, he was one of my best friends,” Eugenie said bleakly.

Twenty
    The state had hoped to finish its case before Thanksgiving, and the