by Rob Summers
Chapter 12 Gentleness on Trial
“Thanks for the haircut,” Gentleness said with a smile for the prison barber.
The short, grizzled man glared back at him, suspecting sarcasm, for what he had actually done was shave the boy’s head bald.
“Move on. Your lawyer’s here to see you,” he growled.
Gentleness hopped out of the chair, wearing a standard orange jump suit, his hands cuffed in front of him. The guard who had brought him grabbed him roughly by an arm and dragged him down the hallway. The next stop was a dingy little room containing only a battered table and two folding chairs. His court appointed lawyer was waiting for him in one of the chairs. A dark haired woman in her thirties, she did not stand up, scarcely even looked up from papers scattered on the table.
“Sit him down,” she said to the guard, “I don’t have much time for this.”
Gentleness was placed in the other chair, and the guard stood by.
“Hi,” the boy said, extending his cuffs to offer her a handshake. “My name’s Gentleness.”
She reluctantly shook his hand. “Miss Sarcasm. I’m a Public Defender and I’ve got your case.”
“How does it look?”
“Wonderful, just wonderful.” She rolled her eyes.
“I haven’t been allowed a phone call yet. I spent all day in a cell and they wouldn’t let me contact anybody. Can you help me with that?”
She took up a pen and added a note to a margin. “Sure. Real soon.”
“And no offense, but I want to get my own lawyer.”
“That’s real likely.” She smoothed back her hair from her face. “So how do you want to plead?”
“Well, innocent.”
“That’s smart. So—what are you going to say about the acetylene torch?”
“The what?”
She laughed. “That’s a good one. Stick to that. ‘The what?’ I’ll look forward to hearing that in court.”
“But you’re not going to be my lawyer. I want another lawyer.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot.” She paused to write something more. “Your trial is in two hours. Why don’t you get some sweet sleep before then? See you there.”
“Two hours!” His blue eyes widened. “What is it, night court? That’ll be almost seven o’clock.”
She looked to the guard. “Take him back. Make sure he’s in Courtroom 4 by seven.”
He was hauling Gentleness out of his chair before she finished speaking. “But my lawyer,” the boy said faintly, and then louder as he disappeared out the door, “Nice to meet you!”
“But you could always get Truth out of jail, all the times he’s been arrested.”
Reason was becoming exasperated even with Grace, though she loved the old man. Dignity sat beside her looking worried. Grace had just confirmed that Gentleness was definitely imprisoned and that no immediate release might be expected.
“We always have gotten Truth released,” Grace agreed, “but not always right away, as you know. You see, the City can be made to buckle under Heavenite pressure, but as it keeps happening time after time, they come to deeply resent it. Once in a while, usually in some special case like this, they get over-excited and try to pretend they can win the shoving match. This time the reliability of their account of Relocation is on the line, and so they’ve decided to make an issue of Gentleness’ case.”
Dignity looked bewildered. “What does Relocation have to do with it?”
“Have you lost track of the dominos? Well, you’re hardly to be blamed for that. Let me review the complications for you, explaining it from the City’s rather limited point of view. Briefly, if Gentleness is restored to us, then you and Reason will have in him an invaluable ally in remaining sweet spirited toward the Leasings despite all their provocations. You will have, of course, realized his value all the more since his absence.” The cousins nodded guiltily. “And if you keep your tempers sweet, then your account of the plain facts about Leasing House and Guiles’ contract with the City will be heard and appreciated by at least as many of your neighbors as have some sense. On the other hand, a shrill voice is seldom trusted and neither are the exaggerations you would no doubt employ if left to yourselves. Now if the neighborhood finds you trustworthy, the very important question of what happened on Halloween night will remain open; that is, the question: What did the children see?”
“It is like a row of dominos,” Reason said with aroused interest. “In trying to back up Prevarica and keep the City image intact, they felt that they had to discredit Wisdom’s story, and to do that they had to discredit his family and friends, and to do that—”
“They raked in Gentleness with a false arrest,” Dignity finished for her. “What extremes won’t they go to?”
“Yes, we observe that our enemies are trapped by their own method,” Grace said. “Once the chain of falsehood is begun, new links must be added to make safe the old ones, on and on, ad infinitum. And the risks they take grow greater and greater until, as is presently the case, they are on the verge of losing their grip on the whole City.”
“And the end of the chain is in Mr. Power’s office,” said Reason.
“No, my dear, not there. The chain goes on, leading into the Hadean regions. What is finally being protected is the very throne of Satan.”
Dignity whistled low. “And all this from a little girl’s lie.”
“A little girl’s lie protecting bigger lies. When Wisdom told the truth about the lizard demons, he touched a nerve that runs all the way back and down into Hell. You can be sure that Mr. Power’s dark masters, and he has them, are pressuring him to cover this up at whatever cost. They were on the edge of becoming visible to our town’s citizens, something that fills them with pain and terror.”
“So Gentleness became their target,” Reason said sadly.
“Just so. They won’t give him up without a fight, either, not this time. They’re offering no bail and even tried to keep both his arrest and his trial a secret; but of course I know everything. His trial is held tonight with no public admittance except a few persons favored by the administration. They’ll have him condemned no matter what.”
Reason thought of something and her eyes lit up. “But the Gloria Dothan is coming! You said there would be a battle?”
“Yes, but I must warn you that, although the City cannot win, in every battle there are casualties on both sides.”
Reason thought about this for a few moments and began to cry. “Then let it be me, not him,” she said, “not Gentleness. Let me be the casualty.”
Dignity caught Grace’s eye, glanced toward Reason, and shook his head. “Me, sir.”
“I will keep your offers under advisement,” Grace said with a mistiness in his own eyes. “Tonight there’s nothing to be done. However, I think the City will make some delay between sentencing and punishment, so the time may come when you’ll have your opportunity. In the meantime, do put on cheerful faces for his family’s sake. His twin sister is already in an awful state from worrying about him, and his mother is just holding on.”
The courtroom was so empty! Gentleness looked around and saw none of the relatives and friends that he had expected, only court officials, the plainclothesmen who had arrested him, and a few seedy looking loungers. Still handcuffed, he was marched to a seat behind a table near the bench, where Lawyer Sarcasm awaited him.
“No lawyer of my own, huh?” he asked her without surprise, for he was beginning to catch on.
“We never worked that out, did we?” she said. “What a shame. Sure you don’t want to change your plea?”
“I’m sure.”
The judge now appeared behind the bench and the bailiff called the ‘all rise.’ This, they were told, was Judge Hategood of the 4th City Court. When they all had sat down, the judge called for the jury to appear. A security guard led them in and they sat in the box, twelve very old looking men and women. To Gentleness they looke
d about five hundred years old. Their names were Mr. Blind-man, Mrs. No-good, Mrs. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mrs. Heady, Mrs. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mrs. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Miss Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable. He knew their names because they were the same jurors who, for as far back as anyone could remember, had been used for every trial in which Heavenites were defendants. Of course, their names were never published in the newspaper, but Heavenite parents taught their children who they were.
After looking around, Judge Hate-good asked about the absence of the prosecuting attorney Mr. Tarbrush. No one had an explanation.
“We’ll just muddle on without him,” said the judge with a shrug. “The charge is intent to commit arson. Officer Frame, please stand up here and tell me what happened yesterday evening.”
The plainclothesman stood forth confidently. “Sure you don’t want me sworn in first?”
The judge was not offended. “We know each other pretty well, Andy; no need for that. Proceed.”
“Your Honor, last week the force received a request from a Mr. Guiles Leasing of 1398 Sandhill Street for protection against a threat of arson from residents of Grace House, 1422 Sandhill Street.”
“And Mr. Leasing is here?”
“Uh, no, Your Honor, but the prosecution has a copy of his sworn testimony.”
“All right. Go ahead.”
“It seems there was a family dispute between Mr. Leasing and his cousin Mr. Dignity. They were afraid this Dignity would make use of some Heavenite friends of his to torch the Leasing place.”
“That was a stated threat?”
“You bet. I mean, yes, Your Honor. Leasing has filed his testimony that Mr. Dignity cold bloodedly threatened him with arson. So anyway, Officer Libel and myself were assigned to watch the place in plainclothes and see that it came to no harm. We kept noticing this young man, the defendant, hanging around in front during the evenings, and we asked around and found out that he’s a Heavenite, residing at 1422 Sandhill. One of them. So we got permission to have him arrested on suspicion and did so last night. We took him from just across the street from Leasing House. A nice smooth cop, if I may say.”
“What was his account of himself?” asked the judge.
“The defendant stated that he was asked by his friend Mr. Dignity to watch the house while Mr. Dignity and a Mrs. Reason went inside. He said he was supposed to be a lookout.”
“A lookout for what?”
“That’s what we asked him,” said Frame. “He said he didn’t know for what, just that they wanted something from inside the house and that he was looking out.”
“And this Mr. Dignity, did you find him?”
“There was nobody else on that street, Your Honor. We’d been watching for hours and Leasing House had had no visitors. There wasn’t any Mr. Dignity, I mean not in Leasing House that night, and no Mrs. Reason either.”
“Go on.”
“So we got him back to the station and searched him, and there’s what we found in his coat pocket.” Frame pointed to an exhibit on a nearby table. “As nice a little acetylene torch as you could ask for. Nice and small, easy to conceal.”
“What did the defendant say about that, Officer Frame?
“The usual, that he didn’t even know he had it and had never seen it before.”
“OK, you can sit down now.”
The judge adjusted his glasses, glanced at his watch as if impatient, and made a few notes. Gentleness thought that surely the prosecution would present more of a case than this; but reminded himself that the prosecutor still hadn’t arrived. Maybe that was a break.
“Lawyer Sarcasm, any cross examination of Officer Frame?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“OK, then you’re up. Witnesses?”
“We have no witnesses, Your Honor.”
“But what about me?” Gentleness said to her.
“Shh,” she warned. “Leave this up to me. I’ll cover your side in the closing argument.”
“But you don’t know my side.”
“Shh.”
Judge Hate-good looked around again. “Still no Lawyer Tarbrush, so we’ve got no closing argument for the prosecution. Sarcasm, you’re closing argument?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Rising and facing the jury, she began with a sweeping oratorical gesture. “How could anyone doubt this boy’s innocence? The prosecution (if there had been any) might have maliciously pointed out that he’s a member of the cult of the Heavenites, and that they are on record as expecting the burning destruction of every house in the City. The prosecution might have pointed out that the Heavenites freely admit that they look forward to this mass conflagration with glee. But I know the wise ladies and gentlemen of the jury will pay no attention to such inflammatory talk and will look only at the evidence.
“And what evidence is there? Who could condemn the accused just on the basis of the Heavenites’ long term enmity against the City, keeping in mind that Mr. Guiles Leasing is a close friend of the City administrators and that Leasing House is on the verge of receiving a City Seal? No, even though these facts were well known to my client, I know you won’t condemn him because of that.”
Gentleness began to wonder if, had the prosecuting attorney shown up, he could have painted a more damning picture than this. What was Lawyer Sarcasm doing?
“And I know you won’t condemn this poor, frightened boy just because he knew that Leasing House was practically empty that night, having watched most of the inhabitants drive away earlier in the evening to go see a movie. Yes, he must have known that Mr. and Mrs. Leasing were in the habit of retiring to a basement room, leaving the aboveground part of the house unguarded. What of it? And what of it that he had watched Leasing House night after night until just such an opportunity arose? Would anyone call that proof?”
A low growling sound emanated from the jury. Their faces, proud and unyielding before, were now pictures of hatred.
“And so what if he did have a small acetylene torch concealed in his pocket—in working order, with the canister filled? What does the jury know about what he intended to do with it? Maybe he intended to do some welding that evening, in the dark, on the street corner.”
Now the jury was laughing evilly, and so was the judge and everyone else, including a burly man with a moustache who had entered late and who Gentleness took to be the prosecutor, Lawyer Tarbrush. This man actually clapped his hands in applause.
“There are a thousand things one can do with an acetylene torch on a street corner at night, although at present I can’t think of any. Will the jury fixate on the narrow notion that the accused meant to sneak up on the unprotected Leasing House and make a gigantic bonfire of it? That he meant to leave nothing but charred remnants?”
Sarcasm paused in the grip of some strong emotion, perhaps mirth. She turned to the judge. “How could anyone be more innocent than my client, Your Honor?” She winked at him broadly. “I know the jury will do what’s right.”
Amid general applause, she sat down with a bump.
“There,” she said to Gentleness, “if that isn’t saving your hide, I don’t know what is.”
Gentleness remained very quiet. He now expected to be in prison for a long time.
“That’s it,” said Judge Hate-good, glancing at his watch again, “and done in very good time. My instruction to you jurors is that you now make your decision based on the facts, the evidence, and the good of the City. Keep in mind that to find the accused guilty you must believe his guilt to be beyond a reasonable doubt. If you think a young man could reasonably be standing out in the cold at night, packing heat, in front of the house of his enemy, and not intending to use the torch, then you must find him innocent. But also keep in mind that our City leaders, including the Mayor and Mr. Power have said that the Heavenite cult is a menace to our society and capable of anything. Foreman, you may now lead the jury out to make a decision on the charge of intent to commit
arson.”
The foreman Mr. Blind-man stood and, blundering and feeling his way along, was the first to disappear through the door behind the jury box. The others followed in a line, but Gentleness noticed that before the last juror, Mr. Implacable, had quite closed the door behind him, Mr. Blind-man had emerged from another door and was fumbling his way back to his chair, the others still following him. In a minute they were all back in their places.
“Foreman of the jury,” the judge asked, “have you reached a verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor,” said Mr. Blind-man.
“And what is your verdict?”
“Your Honor, on the charge of intent to commit arson we find the defendant guilty.”
“Let it be recorded,” said the judge. “We can now proceed to sentencing.” He glanced at his wristwatch again. “The penalty for intent to commit arson is death by lethal injection, and I so rule. No appeal allowed. Sentence to be carried out on an undetermined date not later than, um—what’s a week from today?—yes, December 23rd. That’s all, bailiff.”
The bailiff was already clearing things off his little desk. “Court is adjourned!” he bawled as he scooped things up.
Gentleness staggered to his feet as if he meant to do something, but he did not know what. His guard was instantly beside him with a rough hand on his shoulder.
“Bad luck,” said Sarcasm as she brushed by him. “You just never know about these juries.”
Then he was being tugged back toward the door he had come in by, looking around with wide eyes. Lawyer Sarcasm was beside Lawyer Tarbrush, her hand resting easily on his shoulder, and she seemed to be sharing a joke with him. Judge Hate-good had already slipped off his robe, which he now carried over his arm, and was chatting with the court recorder. The loungers were standing up and stretching.
A moment later they were all out of sight as he was propelled down the hallway, out of the courthouse, and across a lawn to the prison. Soon he was in his solitary cell again, and the door was locked behind him. The little room was very quiet.
Reason woke in the night full of worries and sorrows and went to check on Wisdom, who was sleeping soundly. When she returned, her husband Truth was also peacefully sleeping. All was still. From her nightstand she picked up the abominometer, thinking that it might perhaps give her some notion of Gentleness’ fate, for if he was being treated well, surely the reading would be no higher. But the reading was higher: the liquid now stood at 95.