I love you George. God bless you, George."" With these words Lester Zygmanik, a forthright young man of 23, shot his brother George where he lay in a hospital with a splintered neck (""All I am is a head"") and where he asked Lester to put him out of his misery. Mitchell, a more than capable novelist (Covenant), spent five months with the surviving and concerned members of a close Polish Catholic family (now only a wife and a very taciturn mother); with those who knew Lester; and particularly with his lawyer Robert Ansell, up against ""the one nightmare reconciliation--a murder where the motive was love."" The narrative gains momentum in its alternating insets and sequences up through the trial to the hushed courtroom verdict, NOT GUILTY--perhaps unexpected in the same state where Karen Quinlan's family has lost round after round. . . . A peremptorily involving case-in-point as loaded as that gun, and you can expect it to have the attention it demands and deserves.