That evening, Schlichtmann stood at the counter in the office kitchen, trying to open a bottle of apple juice. His palms were sweaty, his hands trembled, and he could not get the top off. He put the unopened bottle down and planted both hands on the counter, as if he were steadying himself on a storm-tossed sea. “Could I be wrong?” he wondered aloud. “Could there be only one holdout for me? I can’t believe that nightmare.”

Jonathan Harr, A Civil Action, loc. 2365