I'm afraid I must announce that as of today, I have turned against the character of Peter Bradford, after having lukewarmly defended him for several years. Once the witch trial starts, he (and I'm repeating my WP remarks here) turns into one of those intolerable, insufferable yappy little dogs who are always nipping at your heels, under the delusion that they're really pit bulls. Arf, grrr, yap, bite, nip bark. He gives being the good guy a bad name. I almost want Trask to tie him up with whatever's handy, a curtain maybe, and kick him thus disabled roughly to the floor, in the corner of the room. A Vicki conviction might seem like a small price to pay for this.
We'll see if Dirk and Tate can be tolerable to me when 1897 rolls around in the Watching Project again.