CHAPTER 24
I suppose I spent my life watching too many courtroom dramas because I have vastly different expectations about what my trial will look like. Here I was, expecting the North Korean equivalent of the paparazzi, but if I took the time to count the people in attendance, I probably wouldn’t get past a dozen.
The only two attendees I recognize are Mr. Kim and Eric, the Swedish ambassador, who gives me a surprised glance when I walk by. He can’t be surprised that I’m here. It’s my own trial, after all. The only other explanation is I look as sick as I feel. Well, what does he expect after a month or longer stuck in a Pyongyang hotel room?
The suit Mr. Kim found for me is too short in the legs and baggy in the shoulders. I wonder how much weight I’ve lost since I’ve been here. I har
