The first time I saw Alvaro Williamson, he was having wardrobe issues. Sitting behind the defendant's table, he wore a stylish, khaki-colored sport shirt above jailhouse blue pants. It was not a good look, for fashion and legal reasons.

A relative was supposed to bring the accused a pair of slacks, but the pants had never materialized. Judge Ronald S. Coen didn't want the jury to be unduly influenced by this odd choice pairing of clothes, so he made sure that Williamson was already seated when jurors came in and out.

By the time he took the stand in his own defense, Mr. Williamson had his clothing problems ironed out. Dressed in a gray suit, apparently freshly purchased, judging from the label still on the sleeve, and a cream-colored button-down, he presented a considerably less threatening image when he swore to tell the truth and sat in the witness box.

Alvaro Williamson admitted Tuesday that he killed his neighbor but testified he was normally a concerned citizen, good father and animal lover.

"I regret my action on that day," he said. "I'm trying to deal with it the best I can. There's losses all around. It's unfortunate."

Williamson started off as a pretty good witness, relaxed and engaging while under questioning from his attorney Milton C. Grimes. He's a big dude, 6'7", 270, but he leaned back in the chair and looked considerably smaller. He'd grown a neatly trimmed, graying goatee and was calm and collected under his attorney's questions.

Grimes started off with questions about Williamson's relationship with the victim, Filemon Ramos, then moved onto the tattoos on the sides of his neck.

One meant death/rebirth, Williamson testified, the other meant evil and wicked. That's not exactly the kind of thing I'd want my attorney to be asking me about, but I figure Grimes would rather have that introduced on his terms, rather than when Deputy District Attorney Paula Gonzales had control.

Grimes led his client through the events of June 25, 2006, the day Williamson ended up with a pistol in his hand and Ramos ended up dead.

Williamson said he got up, went outside and kissed his Rottweiler good morning. He ate breakfast, which he said he didn't normally indulge in, but this time tucked into a spread of four pork chops, home fries and eight sausages in front of his television. Around 1 p.m., he fixed himself a cocktail of Cuervo Gold and Pepsi, then had some pals over to shoot the breeze and talk about a motorcycle he was looking to buy.

By nighttime, he went for a drive with his female friend, came back and picked up his son, Jacques, to get a bite to eat. As they left, they got into an argument with the Ramoses and their friends, who were playing soccer out in the street.

"They flipped us off, whether it was me, her or someone in the vehicle," Williamson testified. "I told her to stop the car. I was frustrated and I had a choice of words for them."

He didn't specify what that word choice was, but I'd guess they weren't "Howdy, neighbor, how ya doin'?"

The argument escalated, things got heated and, soon, the defendant was describing the positions of the people surrounding him.

"Where was Filiberto?" Grimes asked, referring to Filiberto Ramos, the deceased man's son whom Williamson also shot in the leg and buttock.
"Can I point at the jurors?" Williamson asked.

Grimes wisely didn't think that was such a hot idea. Using the people who will decide your fate on a murder beef as a stand in for a shooting victim could make them a little less sympathetic.

"No!" he said. "Let's not use the jurors. How about the railing? Or the table? Or the podium? Or me?"

When Gonzales took over, she adopted a decidedly more aggressive tack than when she had her own witnesses on the stand. She got Williamson to admit that he owned several unregistered guns, but he claimed he didn't own the Sig Sauer automatic the prosecution claims killed Ramos. Though Williamson testified he believed he was acting in self defense, she questioned why he just offered a "no comment" when a news crew asked him if he'd shot Ramos as he came to the police station to turn himself in.

"At that moment, sir, you're coming into admit you killed your neighbor," she said. "Isn't that the time to say, 'Hey, wait, I know this Filiberto kid and he tried to kill me?'"

Under Gonzales' questioning, Williamson was more sarcastic and condescending than when Grimes was in control. He said he was full of smart remarks and she went after him pretty hard whenever he dodged a question or tried to brush her off.

It'll be interesting to see how the jury reacts to his testimony. It's always a risky gambit to defend yourself -- you can either become more human in the eyes of the jurors or make yourself seem like even more of a jerk. Williamson played things pretty cool up there, but we'll see if it'll work.

"If I could go back to June 24, I wouldn't have been home June 25 or 26," he testified. "But I can't go back in time."