A Fool for a Client (34 page)

“
‘
Tempered by war, disciplined by a harsh and bitter peace...
’
” Abrams
’
voice rang out in stinging mockery.

But the DA was past hearing.
He was launched on a voyage of his own rhetoric
–
as he had so often been in his courtroom days.

“OK you
’
ve got the picture.
So now mother and daughter live for each other and fill each other
’
s worlds.
The daughter may even develop a bit of an
Oedipus
complex
–
”

The DA
’
s legal skill had not suffered from his childhood poverty.
But he lacked the broad, liberal, middle
-
class education that Abrams had received, and sometimes it showed.

“That
’
s what sons have for their mothers.”

“Well an
Electra
complex
–
”

“Daughters for their fathers.”

“All right but whatever you call it maybe there was some sort of incestuous lesbian attraction
–
”

Abrams wheeled round abruptly.

“Now you
’
re really going off on a flight of fancy.”

“All right forget the dyke bit. But you know what I mean.”

“OK, let
’
s say that they grew closer together so that the maternal
-
filial bond strengthened rather than weakened when the girl entered adolescence.”

“All right let
’
s say that.”

Abrams turned back to look out at the city.
The DA continued.

“The girl learns, in that time, that she could always count on her mother to supply the strength and wisdom.
Her mother became the pillar of support.
Any complaints so far?”

“I
’
ll take the fifth,” said Abrams mockingly,
“Go on.”

“OK
Then the mother gets hit by the Big C and the girl sees her tower of strength beginning to crumble.
Being a medical student she also knows there
’
s precious little she can do about it.
Now the roles are reversed.
She has to become the strong figure to give what little encouragement and support she can to her ailing mother.
Reasonable?”

“Plausible.”

“As her mother loses her grip on life, Justine gets tougher from within
–
tougher and more bitter about the injustice in the world.
She develops a nameless, undefined anger.
Finally her mother dies and the aloof, friendless Justine is left alone in a world in which her mother had once been her only companion.”

“OK so she
’
s bitter about the world.
Why doesn
’
t she just become a junkie?
Or hit the bottle?”

“Or take up shoplifting,” the DA added.

“Exactly.”

“Wait a minute, I
’
m coming to that.
This is where we get to the interesting part.”

Abrams made a gesture towards the ceiling as if to say “Thank God.”

“While all this has been going on, she also hears about the professor and the child being murdered in
England
, and, worse than that, the murderer managed to get his tail over to this country and avoid extradition.
Now
she
’
s ready to commit murder.
Her sense of anger in the face of injustice has built up to breaking point and here she sees a murderer slipping off the hook on a very dubious legal technicality.”

“But why Murphy?” asked Abrams.

“Maybe because of the tear-jerking image of that three-year-old child blown to pieces by a terrorist
’
s bomb.
Maybe because the professor Murphy killed had given a course that she took and she happened to remember him.
Maybe she and the professor even had an affair.
Or maybe that
’
s another flight of fancy.
But the point is whatever it was, that
’
s the incident that finally set her off.
Not the terrorism itself, but the abuse of the law and misinterpretation of the constitution by the judge.
The per
ver
sion of the course of justice and the denial of justice to the victim for political reasons.
The same sort of thing that provoked such a public backlash against the exclusionary rule and all those other technicalities that
defence
lawyer
’
s loved using.
Murphy
’
s the one who just happened to cross
her path when she finally got tired of being a passive spectator to the world
’
s injustice.
So even if she has no personal axe to grind she picks Murphy as a symbol of
–
”

“That
’
s it!” yelled Abrams, spinning round.

The DA leaned forward, bewildered.

“What?”

“I
’
ve got it.”

Abrams rushed over to the door and grabbed his hat and coat.

“Got what?

Abrams opened the door and turned.

“Half the answer.”

The
ADA
left the office, closing the door behind him.

“
Half
the answer?”
said the DA to thin air.

The aftermath of the prosecution
’
s case brought a new awareness of the case to the general public.
The interest in the case, that had had been declining with the prosecutions later witnesses was picking up again.
Thus the courtroom was once again packed with spectators.
Extra bailiffs had to be called in to prevent people without tickets from entering the courtroom.
The press benches were full, while ordinary, curious members of the public flocked to the court building to hear Justine open her defence.

Many of the would-be spectators had to be turned away disappointed, but some of them hung around the building in the hope of hearing some flash of news that would satisfy their desire for the thrill of this case.
Many of them could have watched it at home on cable TV, but they wanted to be near the courtroom when it happened, in case any exciting news broke, like a change of plea or a sudden dismissal of the charges.

There was a strong Irish contingent, not all of them hostile to Justine, and many Jews.
There were girls too.
To some Justine was a role model to be glimpsed at, if only for a moment in the hope that some of the radiance would shine into their drab lives as receptionists and waitresses. To others she was a cold-blooded, scheming, heartless she-devil, a new incarnation of Lilith, one of those rare specimens of evil female who is deadlier than the male.
This was the old polarized perception of women in the public eye.
Whereas men who are accused of crime are “permitted” by the public at large to belong almost anywhere on a wide moral spectrum, alleged murderesses, and often women in general, are neatly slotted into one of two categories: the virtuous victims and the most evil creatures who ever lived.

It was against the backdrop of this was the polarized state of public opinion that Justine Levy faced the judge as he addressed her.

“Miss Levy, are you ready to proceed with your defence?”

“Yes Your Honour,” said Justine rising to her feet.

“Proceed,” said the judge perfunctorily, nodding in her direction.

“My first and only witness is myself,” said Justine, sending a shockwave through the courtroom.

It was as if the entire press section sucked in its collective breath.
Justine
’
s unusual qualities had already stood out, but most people were surprised at this development.
Many defendants conduct their own defence for the an unstated purpose to which they dare not admit: that of being able to influence the jury by their demeanour and questions to prosecution witnesses without risking taking the witness stand and giving a particular account of events, thereby being exposed to the perils of cross-examination and a direct challenge to a specific version of events that they offer (as opposed to the many possibilities that the jur
y can be invited to consider).

Yet Justine was now submitting to this very risk, inviting the prosecution to challenge her testimony or find fault with her account events.
And now, for the first time, the public were about to hear that account.
As far as the press and public were concerned, the drama had climbed a few notches on the ladder of excitement.

Justine was led by a bailiff to the witness stand.
When asked her religion by the clerk of the court she stated not “Jewish” but “atheist”.
Thus it was not the oath but the affirmation that the clerk of the court recited to her and asked to which he asked for her response.

“Do you solemnly affirm that the evidence you shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”

“I do," replied Justine, with the quiet firmness that had been her hall mark throughout this trial.

The clerk withdrew
as Justine took the witness stand.

“State your name for the record,” said the judge.

“I am Justine Deborah Levy.”

The Judge nodded gently to Justine and added quietly, “go ahead.”

“Members of the jury.
I won
’
t bore you by repeating the facts of the case.
You all know by now that Sean Murphy died of the atropine that they gave him in the hospital as the antidote to pyrethrum poisoning, and not from pyrethrum itself.
Just to clarify the issue, let me add that I hadn
’
t given Murphy any pyrethrum.
There was no pyrethrum in the tequila that he drank.”

A gasp went through the courtroom.
Declan leaned forward angrily.
On the other side of the same row of spectator
’
s seats, Thomas leaned forward too, as if poised to restrain him.
In practice it would be very hard for him to do so.
There were several other spectators in between them, and even if Declan rose, Thomas couldn
’
t be sure of getting a clear shot.
He doubted that Declan was going to make his move now, or even that he was able to make it. He couldn
’
t possibly have got his gun into the courtroom or even into the building.
The security was far too good.
of course Tom himself had been the security with
his polymer composite pistol.

But the IRA had a large sophisticated terrorist network belonging to the larger network of brotherhood among such diverse groups as Hamas, the German Red Army Faction, the Italian Red Brigades and the French Direct Action, as well as neo-Nazi groups who were only too happy to work with the left on the
grounds that National Socialism and International Socialism were not really so different as to require a complete separation of interests, when all too often their anti-individual causes overlapped.

It was unlikely, thought Tom, that Declan or any of his INLA conspirators would have access to such sophisticated weapons as polymer pistols which could not be detected by metal detectors.
The question was when and where was Declan planning to make his move?
If Justine was acquitted, it would be no problem.
He could shoot her in the street or even go to her home and shoot her there.
But all the evidence suggested that she would be convicted, especially now that she had effectively admitted to the crime.
If she was convicted, bail would be revoked and she would be taken into immediate custody.
How could he hope to get her when she was in custody?
He had to have a contingency plan and it must involve making his move in court.

Tom couldn
’
t figure out what Declan was planning, but he resolved to sit closer to him from now on, and preferably in the row behind him, even if it meant paying some money to the person who occupied that seat now.
In fact both Declan and Tom had paid more than a thousand dollars to buy their tickets on the black market from ticket touts.
The touts had effectively offered people who weren
’
t interested in the trial money to enter the lottery for the tickets with the promise that those who won tickets would be offered even more money to part with them.
It was ironic that a criminal trial should have given rise to such corruption of the very doorstep of the Hall of Justice, and typical of
New York city
that nothing was done about it.