Carry Me Home (105 page)

Bobby breathed deeply, closed his eyes. He could feel an expansion of human spirit, feel it through his back, from the back of his head, a four-dimensional image in time and space exploding from him, behind him, quick but not violent, expanding inclusively from past generations through him to the present, to the future, without him, happily, sensing himself nothing more than a temporary vehicle, weightless, a conduit ...

“Bobby.” Louder, “Bobby!”

“Huh?”

“Were you asleep?”

“Oh.” He turned. His face was captured by a huge smile. “Sara! I didn’t hear you.”

“Are ... Why are you smiling?”

“I was just having these ideas. It was almost like ... like I could see the future. And it was beautiful.”

“Do you know it’s eight o’clock?”

“You’re kidding?”

“Unt-uh. The doctor’s been calling. He’s called three times. They want you to come in for a retest. He said your blood values were so far out of line there must have been a lab error.” She paused, cocked her head sideways. “What are you grinning at?”

“Just you,” Bobby said.

November 5, 1981—Vu Van Hieu could not smile. An urge to return had seized him, an urge to continue the resistance, to resist the tyrants. Viet Nam had joined COMECON, the Soviet-dominated economic alliance in 1978. No longer was Viet Nam a mom-and-pop-type independent contractor communist government but now it was a branch-franchise outlet under strict control of the Moscow CEOs. Directed by the distant corporate headquarters, the franchise had, in December ’78, invaded Cambodia, a hostile takeover of a competitor’s franchise, had expanded the rape, pillage, and plunder for higher shareholder profits.

But that was not all. Had it been only Viet Nam, he would have quit High Meadow immediately—maybe joined the resistance. But it was bigger. It was global. His new country, the world symbol for freedom, on this day, at the very pinnacle of the Great Media Trial, had declared Robert J. Wapinski, d.b.a. the High Meadow Corporation and Environmental Energy Systems, Inc., to be insolvent due to unpaid and presumably unpayable back taxes. The “Service” had ordered all assets of the above to be seized and disposed of in order to make restitution.

I
T IS LATE. LATE
in the day. Or maybe not so late, just dark because of the rain, the clouds. I hear thunder approaching. It is late in the year for such a storm, the kind of storm that used to make so many of us anxious as if the thunderclaps were artillery bursts; the kind of storm that brought thoughts, images, of monsoons, of jungle valleys or hilltops, Hamburger Hill for Bobby, mudslides, hamburger hills for so many under monsoon rains and darkened skies late in their year.

I’m sitting on the loft floor, my legs dangling, like from the side of a Huey, over the main assembly area, over the flanger machine. In the dimness, before the tables, they emerge as if it were 8 October 1981. There are the vets, most anyway, some of the wives, families. In addition there are students from Nittany Mountain College, and Professor Tilden and his associate, James Alban, an instructor in history; and Montgomery McShane. From town there are dozens including Ernest Hartley, Jr. and Detective Don Fredrickson (to keep an eye on things?), and Uncle James and John Pisano, Sr., my Pop.

Gary Sherrick is beaming. He is prepared, has prepared the teams through general allegations, bills of particulars, discovery, detailed interrogations and requests for documents and records (research exchange). Sherrick is beaming with pride. This is his masterpiece. He has coached, lectured, cajoled and encouraged. “There is a politically correct way to think about the Viet Nam War,” Sherrick has said. “There is an academically acceptable perspective from which to write about the war. There is a socially agreeable position; and there are media-tolerable projectibles. These manners, perspectives, positions and projections have fluctuated over the years but have swayed only slightly since 1968 when Lyndon Johnson declined to run for a second full term, and when Walter Cronkite converted and established an acceptable antiwar posture for nonradicals. That these ossified perspectives are narrow seems to have bothered few politicians, academics, John and Jane Does, reporters, editors or film makers. And after nearly a decade and a half most everyone is in agreement—and most everyone, because of the exact narrowness of the perspectives, is half wrong.”

Sherrick, obnoxious Sherrick, sounded more like Wapinski all the time. “It is only through ever wider, patient research and deeper analytical knowledge that we can gain true understanding of any complex issue. And it is only through true understanding that we can plot reasoned courses of thought and action.”

And there is Wapinski, as judge, sitting on the collector assembly table 1, now with his feet on the sheet metal break, which had been pulled over for a job I no longer remember, with the jury and the recorder, the bailiffs and opposing attorneys, the witnesses and researchers, observers and guests, and even ol’ Josh, all before him, about him, above him sitting on the floor of the loft with their legs dangling. “I vow”—as a judge he would not put up with bullshit, with games; this was truth-seeking, not adversarial or even competitive judicature—“to become unstuck, to grow, to expand beyond my self ...”

There is a lightning flash. Two. Three. Four. Now thunder, deeper darkness, heavier rain. Light, dark: a polarization accentuating differences. I can barely see the room now. The formal charges are about to be read.

Opening and Closing Arguments

and Highlights of

the Great Media Trial

S
ESSION ONE—8 OCTOBER 1981
—“The Media,” Bobby began, “is hereby defined as the information promulgation branch of our society. This branch’s activities consist of collecting, compiling, analyzing, condensing and distributing information. The media includes, but is not limited to the major news organizations of radio, TV and the press; the entertainment adjuncts of film, TV, the visual and audio arts and literature; plus public historical, political and commercial presentations. We name here as codefendants the Free World and United States television networks; news magazines and newspapers; film studios; academia—in particular history, political science, government and law, and sociology departments; and the national political parties and their information arms.”

Bobby paused. Murmurs arose, crested. To the prosecutors—Mark Renneau, Don Wagner and Tony Pisano—the definition had been too restrictive. To the defense counsels—Gary Sherrick, Carl Mariano and Frank Denahee—the construct and designation had been too broad. From some vets came hoots of approval, from others jeers of derision. Behind the audience Arnold Tilden glanced at James Alban and both professors smirked. The atmosphere was light, happy, as if at the gala opening of a new play.

“Counsel for the prosecution,” Bobby said, “are you ready?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Mark Renneau answered crisply.

“Defense?”

Sherrick stood, looked at Wapinski, turned to Renneau, then to the jury. “Yes Sir.”

“Bailiff, read the charges.”

“Sir.” Kevin Rifkin acknowledged Wapinski. In a clear voice he said, “The Media is hereby charged with: collusion with the enemy resulting in Communist victories in Viet Nam, Laos, and Cambodia; with willful misrepresentations leading to the polarization of American society; with conspiracy to undermine the U.S. government and military; with the malicious skewing of information, which has damaged the democratic aspirations of peoples around the earth; and with incompetence.”

“How do the defendants plea?” Wapinski asked.

“Not guilty on all counts,” Sherrick answered.

“Let it be so noted,” Wapinski said to the court, “that the defendants have entered pleas of not guilty.”

“Naturally!” Don Wagner blurted. Before he could be silenced, he added, “The media’s the only unaccountable element of our society. They always deny—”

“Order!” Wapinski rapped his hammer on the sheet metal break. “Order!”

“Put a cork in it,” Mariano snapped at Wagner.

“Order!” Wapinski raised his voice.

“Sanctimonious jackasses,” Wagner shot back.

Witnesses and observers began to laugh. In the jury box Calvin Dee nudged Felix Defabretti, was about to speak when Wapinski boomed, “SHUT UP!” That snapped faces forward. “Prosecutors, present your first opening argument.” Wapinski started his stopwatch.

Mark Renneau rose. Slowly, emulating Gregory Peck in
To Kill a Mockingbird
, he sauntered to the jury box. He looked from juror to juror making eye contact with each. “Gentlemen,” Renneau said. “You meet someone. He says, ‘Who are you?’ You answer with your name. But he says, ‘You are not your name. Who are you?’ Again you answer but this time you tell the story of yourself because that is who you truly are.” Renneau paused. At the defense table Gary Sherrick scribbled a note.

“Gentlemen,” Renneau backed away from the jury, “you have heard the charges and the defendants’ pleas. The prosecution will break the Viet Nam War down into five phases and, in regard to each phase, will demonstrate the media’s guilt on each and every charge. We will detail the media’s collusion with Hanoi’s propaganda ministry and how this led to the debasement of the allied cause and the collapse of will. We will show how the willful misrepresentation of story by the media has led to or exacerbated many of our nation’s present political and social problems; how elements of the media conspired to undermine faith in and allegiance to this nation, its government and the armed forces legally raised, armed, and deployed by this government. We will present evidence of the malicious and purposeful skewing of information leading to the derailment of democratic aspirations. And finally, we will document the unquestionable incompetence of the media, particularly the broadcast medias, as a system for full, accurate, and unbiased information distribution to our society. And we will show that the ramifications of these acts have so poisoned our culture that our national myth, our story, America as a concept, as a noble experiment, is endangered and on the brink of extinction.”

Again Renneau paused. He turned from the jury but did not return to the prosecutor’s table. Casually he edged to where Sal Ianez was tape-recording the proceedings. “You gettin this, Sal?” Renneau asked quietly. Ianez raised his one arm, shook his fist in affirmation. “Good,” Mark said. Then, to Wapinski, then turning to the audience and back to the jury, he said loudly, “Your Honor, we additionally will show that basic American actions and policies, and the causes and reasons behind those actions and policies, were justified and noble. And we will show that generally the policies were carried out efficiently, altruistically, and with competence. But first, the prosecution would like to establish the reach of the media into our lives and the importance to our culture of the story thereby told.”

“That’s your time, Mark,” Bobby said. “Let’s hear the first of the defense’s opening arguments. Then we’ll go back to the prosecution for ... Who’s going second for the pros ...”

“I am,” Tony Pisano said.

“Okay.” Bobby nodded. “Let me remind all of you that comments are limited to four minutes but that we will return to any counsel or witness as many times as necessary to fully probe, detail, and quantify the topic. Gary, your first counsel.”

“Thank you.” Sherrick rose quickly, moved quickly to the center before Wapinski, moved as if emphasizing the difference between himself and Mark Renneau. “Your Honor,” Sherrick commanded everyone’s attention, “the defense moves for immediate dismissal of all charges.”

“Excuse me?” Bobby was caught off guard. Again the ambient murmuring rose, filled the big barn with a cacophony of grunts, snickers, huhs? and ooooos.

“The defense,” Sherrick repeated, “moves for the immediate dismissal of all charges on the grounds that the defendants have been falsely charged with crimes they could not possibly have committed.”

“Wait a minute,” Bobby began to chuckle. In the corner of his eye he caught Tilden and Alban gesturing positively to each other. “Sherrick, c’mere. What’s going on?”

In full voice Sherrick stated, “This court has charged the media with collusion, conspiracy, and malicious skewing of information. You have further claimed that the effects of these alleged activities were the fall of Viet Nam and the polarization of American society. This is ridiculous! The defendants were not principals in this war, and could not have had the effects they are charged with. They were not in charge of policy. They directed no troop movements. They produced no weapons or ammunition. There are no provisions in law under which these charges, even if substantiated, could be considered crimes. The media, indeed, were not party to—”

“Gary!” Wapinski was baffled. He had not expected Sherrick to seriously pursue the request for dismissal. “You yourself proposed the charges.”

“That was in a different role,” Sherrick declared.

“Your Honor.” Tony Pisano came to the bench. “I’d like to say something.”

“The prosecution has already delivered its opening arguments,” Sherrick said.

“I’ll allow it,” Wapinski countered. “Without charging it to anybody’s time.”

“Your Honor,” Tony said, “the prosecution will show that the media were very much party to the war, to every stage of the war, to the final outcome and to the aftermath.”

“Yeah, right!” Sherrick snapped. “One cannot be a party to—”

Wapinski overrode both. “Step back,” he ordered. He shook his hammer at the two counsels. “Cut out the b.s. The charges will not be dropped. The trial will continue. The defense is directed to offer its opening arguments. Now, Gary, is this you, Carl, or Frank?”

Denahee stood. Despite Sherrick’s unsettling maneuver the barn quieted. “There was no malice,” Frank began. “No collusion, no conspiracy, no damage. The defendants did their jobs in a manner consistent with the highest journalistic standards the human race has ever known. That this nation experienced, and is experiencing, polarization over the war is due not to freedom of the press, nor to freedom of speech, but to the nature of that particular war, the manner in which it was conducted by five American administrations, and by the deceitfulness of U.S. government, military, and industrial officials.