September 9, 1692
I have finally been removed from my jail cell. The light of day is brilliant and I have renewed hope for the future. The jail has been filled to the brim over the past few months and many have grown ill. In my old age, I have developed a slight cough. I have not seen Martha for nearly a month now. She looks haggard and sickly; I almost feel bad, as though it is my fault we have gotten entangled in this mess. Due to the backlog of arrested witches, the Court of Oyer and Terminer has decided to remove large group of people to try. I have decided that at my trial I will refuse to plead, it is the only way to not confess to false-guilt. I will show them!
NO! NO! How can this be!? After standing mute at my trial those Judges, those evil men, have decided that I must suffer under pein forte et dure. If I do not plead, I will slowly be crushed to death by stones. What
is this madness, this illegal torture!? I refuse to bend to their
whims, I am an old man and have lived my life. It is my duty to all of
the other accused to show these terrible liars that they are wrong and
innocence shall prevail! I have also acquired a large amount of
property in addition to my estate as a mere farmer. I refuse to allow
them to take it from me by confessing to false guilt. Sure, it may
spare my life but it will not spare my life's work! I would rather die
than willingly give up my property.
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