Defending Jacob

by William Landay

  The psychiatrist said, “Is that true, Laurie? Jacob’s behavior got better as he got older?”

  “Yes, in some ways. I mean, it was better, certainly. Kids weren’t getting hurt around him anymore. But he still misbehaved.”

  “How?”

  “Well, he stole. He always stole, his whole childhood. From stores, from CVS, even from the library. He would steal from me. He’d go right into my purse. I caught him shoplifting a couple of times when he was little. I talked to him about it but it never made any difference. What was I supposed to do? Cut off his hands?”

  I said, “This is totally unfair. You’re not being fair to Jacob.”

  “Why? I’m being honest.”

  “No, you’re being honest about how you feel, because Jacob’s in trouble and you feel responsible somehow, so you’re reading back into his life all these terrible things that just weren’t there. I mean, really: he stole from your purse? So what? You’re just not giving the doctor an accurate picture. We’re here to talk about Jacob’s court case.”

  “So?”

  “So what does shoplifting have to do with murder? What’s the difference if he took a candy bar or a pen or something from CVS? What on earth does that have to do with Ben Rifkin being brutally stabbed to death? You’re lumping these things together like shoplifting and bloody murder are the same thing. They’re not.”

  Dr. Vogel said, “I think what Laurie is describing is a pattern of rule-breaking. She’s suggesting that Jacob, for whatever reason, can’t seem to stay within the bounds of accepted behavior.”

  “No. That’s a sociopath.”

  “No.”

  “What you’re describing—”

  “No.”

  “—is a sociopath. Is that what you’re saying? Jacob is a sociopath?”

  “No.” Dr. Vogel put up her hands. “I didn’t say that, Andy. I did not use that word. I’m just trying to get a complete picture of Jacob. I haven’t come to any conclusions about anything. My mind is wide open.”

  Laurie said, earnest and grave, “I think Jacob may have problems. He may need help.”

  I shook my head.

  “He’s our son, Andy. It’s our responsibility to take care of him.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  Laurie’s eyes glistened but no tears came. She had already done her crying. This was a thought she’d been holding inside awhile, working it through, arriving at this awful conclusion. I think Jacob may have problems.

  Dr. Vogel said, with treacherous compassion, “Laurie, do you have doubts about Jacob’s innocence?”

  Laurie swiped her eyes dry and sat up stiff-backed. “No.”

  “It sounds like you might.”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. He’s not capable of this. A mother knows her child. Jacob’s not capable of this.”

  The psychiatrist nodded, accepting the statement even if she did not quite believe it. Even, for that matter, if she did not believe that Laurie believed it.

  “Doctor, do you mind if I ask you something? Do you think I made mistakes? Was there a pattern there that I missed? Was there something more I should have done, if I’d been a better mom?”

  The doctor hesitated for just a moment. On the wall above her, two of the African masks howled. “No, Laurie. I don’t think you did anything wrong at all. Honestly, I think you need to stop beating yourself up. If there was a pattern there, if there was a way to predict Jacob was heading for trouble, I don’t see how any parent could have recognized it. Not based on what you’ve told me so far. A lot of kids have the sort of issues Jacob had and it means nothing at all.”

  “I did the best I could.”

  “You did fine, Laurie. Don’t do that to yourself. Andy’s not wrong: what you’ve described so far? You did what any mother would have done. You did the best you could for your child. That’s all anyone can ask.”

  Laurie held her head up, but there was a brittleness about her. It was like watching tiny threadlike cracks begin to spread and craze over her. Dr. Vogel seemed to perceive this fragile quality too, but she could not have known how entirely new it was. How changed Laurie already was. You had to really know Laurie and cherish her to appreciate what was happening. Once, my wife read so constantly that she would hold a book in her left hand while she brushed her teeth with the right; now, she never picked up a book, she could not muster the concentration or even the interest. Before, she had this way of focusing on whomever she spoke to, so that you felt you were the most impossibly captivating person in the room; now, her eyes wandered and she seemed not to be in the room herself. Her clothes, her hair, her makeup all were a bit wrong, a bit mismatched and sloppy. The quality that had always made her shine—a youthful, eager optimism—had begun to fade. But of course you had to know her Before in order to see what Laurie had lost. I was the only one in the room who understood what was happening to her.

  Still, she was nowhere near surrender. “I did the best I could,” she announced with a sudden, unconvincing resolve.

  “Laurie, tell me about Jacob now. What is he like?”

  “Hm.” She smiled at the thought of him. “He’s very smart. Very funny, very charming. Handsome.” She actually blushed a little at the word handsome. Mother-love is love, after all. “He’s into computers, he loves gadgets, video games, music. He reads a lot.”

  “Any problems with temper or violence?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve been telling us Jacob had issues with violence when he was a preschooler.”

  “It stopped as soon as he got to kindergarten.”

  “I’m just wondering if you still have any concerns about it. Does he still behave in any way that disturbs or worries you?”

  “She already said no, Doctor.”

  “Well, I want to explore it a little further.”

  “It’s okay, Andy. No, Jacob’s never violent anymore. I almost wish he would act out more. He can be very hard to communicate with. He’s hard to read. He doesn’t talk a lot. He broods. He’s very introverted. Not just shy; I mean he introverts his feelings, his energy is all directed inward. He’s very remote, very guarded. He smolders. But no, he’s not violent.”

  “Does he have other ways to express himself? Music, friends, sports, clubs, whatever?”

  “No. He’s not much of a joiner. And he only has a few friends. Derek, a couple of others.”

  “Girlfriends?”

  “No, he’s too young for that.”

  “Is he?”

  “Isn’t he?”

  The doctor shrugged.

  “Anyway, he’s not mean. He can be very critical, caustic, sarcastic. He’s cynical. Fourteen years old and he’s already cynical! He hasn’t experienced enough to be cynical, has he? He hasn’t earned it. Maybe it’s just a pose. It’s how kids are today. Arch, ironic.”

  “Those sound like unpleasant qualities.”

  “Do they? I don’t mean them to. Jacob’s just complicated, I think. He’s moody. You know, he likes to be the angry boy, the ‘nobody fucking understands me’ boy.”

  This was too much.

  I snapped, “Laurie, come on, that’s every teenager, the angry boy, the ‘nobody fucking understands me’ boy. Come on! What you’ve just described is every adolescent on earth. It’s not a kid; it’s a bar code.”

  “Maybe.” Laurie bowed her head. “I don’t know. I always thought maybe Jacob should see a shrink.”

  “You’ve never said he should see a shrink!”

  “I didn’t say I said it. I said I wondered if it was the right thing to do, just so he would have someone to talk to.”

  Dr. Vogel growled, “Andy.”

  “Well, I can’t just sit here!”

  “Try. We’re here to listen to each other, to support each other, not argue.”

  “Look,” I said, exasperated, “enough is enough. The whole presumption of this conversation is that Jacob has something to answer for, to explai
n. It’s just not true. A horrible thing happened, all right? Horrible. But it’s not our fault. It’s certainly not Jake’s fault. You know, I’m sitting here and I’m listening, and I’m thinking, What the hell are we talking about? Jacob had nothing to do with Ben Rifkin getting killed, nothing, but we’re all sitting here talking about Jake as if he’s some kind of freak or monster or something. He’s not. He’s just an ordinary kid. He has his flaws like every other kid, but he had nothing to do with this. I’m sorry, but somebody has to stand up for Jacob here.”

  Dr. Vogel: “Andy, looking back, what do you think about all those kids who got hurt around Jacob? All the kids falling off playground structures and crashing bicycles? Was it all just bad luck? Coincidence? How do you think about it?”

  “Jacob had a lot of energy; he played too rough. I acknowledge that. It’s something we dealt with when he was a kid. But that’s all it was. I mean, this all happened before Jake got to kindergarten. Kindergarten!”

  “And the anger? You don’t think Jacob has an issue with anger?”

  “No, I don’t. People get angry. It’s not an issue.”

  “There’s a report here from Jacob’s file that he punched a hole in the wall in his bedroom. You had to call a plasterer. This was just last fall. Is that true?”

  “Yes, but—how did you get that?”

  “Jonathan.”

  “That was for Jacob’s legal defense only!”

  “That’s what we’re doing here, preparing his defense. Is it true? Did he punch a hole in the wall?”

  “Yes. So what?”

  “People don’t generally punch holes in walls, do they?”

  “Sometimes they do, actually.”

  “Do you?”

  Deep breath. “No.”

  “Laurie thinks you may have a blind spot about the possibility of Jacob being … violent. What do you think of that?”

  “She thinks I’m in denial.”

  “Are you?”

  I shook my head in a stubborn, melancholy way, like a horse swaying its head in a narrow stall. “No. Just the opposite. I’m hyperalert to these things; I’m hyperaware. I mean, you know my background. My whole life—” Deep breath. “Lookit, you’re always concerned when kids get hurt; even if it’s an accident, you never want to see something like that. And you’re always concerned when your own kid behaves in ways that are … disturbing. So yes, I was aware of these things, I was concerned. But I knew Jacob, I knew my kid, and I loved him and I believed in him. And I still do. I’m sticking with him.”

  “We’re all sticking with him, Andy. That’s completely unfair! I love him too. It’s got nothing to do with that.”

  “I never said you didn’t, Laurie. Did you hear me say you didn’t love him?”

  “No, but you always retreat to that: I love him. Of course you love him. We both love him. I’m just saying, you can love your child and still see his flaws. You have to see his flaws, otherwise how can you help him?”

  “Laurie, did you or did you not hear me say you didn’t love him?”

  “Andy, that’s not what I’m saying! You’re not listening!”

  “I am listening! I just don’t agree with you. You’re drawing this picture of Jacob as violent and moody and, and dangerous, based on nothing, and I just disagree. But if I disagree, you say I’m being dishonest. Or ‘unreliable.’ You’re calling me a liar.”

  “I did not call you a liar! I’ve never called you a liar.”

  “You didn’t use the word, no.”

  “Andy, no one’s attacking you. There’s nothing wrong with admitting your son might need a little help. It doesn’t say anything about you.”

  The comment bayoneted me. Because of course Laurie was talking about me. This whole thing was completely about me. I was the reason, the only reason, she thought our son might be dangerous. If he were not a Barber, no one would ever have parsed his childhood so closely for signs of trouble.

  But I remained silent. What was the use? There was no defense to being a Barber.

  Dr. Vogel said cautiously, “Okay, maybe we should just stop here. I’m not sure it would be productive to go on much longer. This isn’t easy for anyone, I realize. We’ve made some progress. We can try again next week.”

  I looked down at my lap, avoiding Laurie’s eyes, ashamed, though for what I was not exactly sure.

  “Let me just ask you both one last question. Maybe we can leave on a happier note, okay? So let’s assume for a moment that this case will go away. Assume that in a few months the case will be dismissed and Jacob will be free to go and do whatever he pleases. Just as if this case had never happened. No qualifications, no lingering shadows, nothing at all. Now, if that were to happen, where would you see your son in ten years? Laurie?”

  “Wow. I can’t think that way. I’m just getting through from one day to the next, you know? Ten years is just … too hard to imagine.”

  “Okay, I understand. But just as a thought exercise, try. Where do you see your son in ten years?”

  Laurie considered. She shook her head. “I can’t. I don’t even like to think about it. I just can’t envision anything good. I think about Jacob’s situation constantly, Doctor, constantly, and I can’t see how this story could end happily. Poor Jacob. I just hope, you know? That’s all I can do. But if I think about when he’s older and we’re not around? I don’t know, I just hope he’s okay.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all.”

  “All right, how about you, Andy? If this case disappeared, where would you see Jacob in ten years?”

  “If he walks on this case?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I see him happy.”

  “Happy, okay.”

  “Maybe with someone, a wife who makes him happy. Maybe a father. With a son.”

  Laurie shifted.

  “But through with all this teenage crap. All the self-pity, the narcissism. If Jacob has a weakness, it’s that he doesn’t have the kind of discipline it takes. He’s … self-indulgent. He doesn’t have the … I don’t know … the steel.”

  Dr. Vogel: “The steel to do what?”

  Laurie looked at me across her shoulder, curious.

  We all heard the answer in our heads, I think, even Dr. Vogel: the steel to be a Barber.

  “To grow up,” I said weakly. “To be an adult.”

  “Like you?”

  “No. Not like me. Jake’s got to do it his own way, I know that. I’m not one of those dads.”

  I pulled my elbows into my lap, as if trying to squeeze through a narrow passageway.

  “Jacob doesn’t have the kind of discipline you had as a kid?”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Why does that matter, Andy? What is he steeling himself for? Or against?”

  The two women shared a glance, the briefest eye-tap. They were studying me, together, understanding each other. Judging me unreliable, in Laurie’s word.

  “Life,” I murmured. “Jacob’s got to steel himself against life. Same as every other kid.”

  Laurie leaned forward, elbows on knees, and she took my hand.

  13 | 179 Days

  After the catastrophe of Jacob’s arrest, every day had an unbearable urgency. A dull, constant anxiety set in. In some ways, the weeks that followed the arrest were worse than the event itself. We were all counting the days, I think. Jacob’s trial was scheduled for October 17, and the date became an obsession. It was as if the future, which we had formerly measured by the length of our lives, as everyone does, now had a definite endpoint. Whatever lay beyond the trial, we could not imagine. Everything—the entire universe—ended on October 17. All we could do was count down the 179 days until then. This is something I did not understand when I was like you, when nothing had ever happened to me: how much easier it was to endure the big moments than the in-between times, the non-events, the waiting. The high drama of Jacob’s arrest, his arraignment in court, and so on—bad as those were, they barreled pa
st and were gone. The real suffering came when no one was looking, during those 179 long days. The unoccupied afternoons in a quiet house, when worry silently engulfed us. The intense awareness of time, the heaviness of the passing minutes, the dizzying, trippy sense that the days were both too few and too long. In the end, we were eager for the trial if only because we could not stand the waiting. It was like a deathwatch.

  One night in May—28 days after the arrest, 151 still to go—the three of us were sitting at the dinner table.

  Jacob was sullen. He rarely lifted his eyes from his plate. He chewed his food noisily, like a little kid, making wet, squishing sounds, a habit he had since he was a little kid. “I don’t understand why we have to do this every night,” he said in an offhand way.

  “Do what?”

  “Have, like, a big sit-down dinner, like it’s a party or something. It’s just the three of us.”

  Laurie explained, not for the first time, “It’s pretty simple, really. That’s what families do. They sit down and have a proper dinner together.”

  “But it’s just us.”

  “So?”

  “So it’s like, every night you spend all this time cooking for three people. Then we sit down and eat for, like, fifteen minutes. Then we have to spend even more time after, doing all the dishes, which we wouldn’t even have if you didn’t make such a big deal about it every night.”

  “It’s not so bad. I don’t see you doing too many dishes, Jacob.”

  “That’s not the point, Mom. It’s just a waste. We could just have pizza or Chinese or whatever and the whole thing’d be over in like fifteen minutes.”

  “But I don’t want the whole thing to be over in fifteen minutes. I want to enjoy dinner with my family.”

  “You actually want it to take an hour every night?”

  “I’d prefer two hours. I’ll take what I can get.” She smirked, sipped her water.

  “We never made a big deal about dinner before.”

  “Well, we do now.”

  “I know why you’re really doing it, Mom.”

  “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “So I won’t get all depressed. You think if I just have a nice family dinner every night, my case will just go away.”