|I first met Mr. Kane when he muscled his way into my|
palatial, well-kept desert estate on National Striped Bathrobe Day.
|Before he came in, if you can believe it, he relieved|
himself on my front stoop!
|Then, upon entry, he shamelessly ingratiated himself|
with my granddaughter as I was fetching refreshments.
|My housekeeper reacted as any good frau -- I mean|
woman -- would. By drawing a pistol.
|Mr. Kane reacted in the most cowardly way possible --|
by using my granddaughter as cover! So he escaped,
without so much as a thank you for the refreshments.
|By now, the word was out about Mr. Kane|
being a fugitive --
|-- and he enticed a Miss Martin into pretending to be|
|Together they went on a spree of property destruction ...|
|... ending at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, where Mr. Kane|
attacked Frank, one of my henchmen -- I mean employees --
who was minding his own business, peacefully
listening to Radio Berlin.
|Then Miss Martin cruelly tricked Frank|
while they were sightseeing at the Statue of Liberty.
|This led to Frank being ambushed by Mr. Kane and|
Miss Martin, and things very quickly got, you should
excuse the expression, out of hand.
|Do I blame Mr. Kane for Frank's death? Well, let's put it|
this way -- HE SOLD FRANK THAT SUIT.
|Well, there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Judge the|
evidence for yourselves, and please take into account
my friendly manner and luxurious lifestyle. I believe that
the truth will triumph uber alles -- I mean, over all.