The Fire This Time

by S. Frederic Liss

  A spectator scrawny to the point of emaciation with long stringy hair tipped with beads and wearing a Free Bobby Sands tee shirt mouthed an obscenity and gave Maddie the finger. Bobby Sands. She had lost count of the number of days into his hunger strike. From Robert Emmet to Bobby Sands to me, she thought, the line seemed more direct than ever. Before the spectator could lower his hand, Gomita slammed down his gavel and ordered him jailed for contempt of court, remanding him to custody pending a hearing scheduled for Wednesday, May 13th, which, Gomita said with a loud, clear voice and fear-inducing snarl, was the earliest opening on his calendar.

  About one hour into Levy’s bail hearing, Assistant District Attorney Don Miguel Bonturo called Professor Husam al din al-Saffah as his next witness. Maddie had anticipated this, prepared for it, but not for al-Saffah’s guise. A dark, gaunt figure, cloaked in black, mounted the witness stand. The glow of the whites of his eyes exaggerated the coal pits of his pupils. A jagged scar split his cheek like a lightning bolt in the night sky or a firebreak in a forest. He reminded Maddie of the devil in “Night on Bald Mountain” and the weeks of nightmares she had after seeing Fantasia.

  “I object, Your Honor,” she said before al-Saffah settled into the chair on the witness stand. “Relevancy.”

  Gomita harrumphed, one of the warnings he gave counsel when his patience was beginning to fray. “Mr. Bonturo.”

  “The witness is a professor of Semitic studies who is an expert in comparative religions.” Bonturo’s head squatted on his shoulders as if his neck had been surgically excised. His face was pie-shaped, flat, two dimensional, his nose and the grotto between his lower lip and the point of his chin the only features with a third dimension. People called him “Fireplug” and joked about dogs mistaking him for a hydrant. Others spread rumors he worked his way through law school as a tackling dummy for the New England Patriots. Those with pretensions said he looked like an early Picasso cubist portrait. Bonturo did not realize he was being insulted. To him, being ragged was an expression of camaraderie and a sign of his acceptance into the fraternity of attorneys. “He will testify,” Bonturo continued, “about the peculiar historical and religious aspects of this crime.”

  “This is a bail hearing,” Maddie said. “Not a trial.”

  “Let me review the bail statute,” Gomita said, bending over a statute book taken from the shelf behind him.

  The hearing lapsed into a state of suspended animation. Maddie counted down from one hundred. Bonturo doodled. Reporters made notes. Television sketch artists worked on background scenes. Al-Saffah bowed his head, folded his hands. The police scanned the room, alert for sudden or suspicious movements. Court officers armed with handguns flanked Levy, ready to subdue or restrain him, or, if necessary, defend or protect him. Within limits. They had decided among themselves no one would take a bullet for the Jew. Catch the assassin? If they could. Submit him to the criminal justice system? If they caught him. Intercept his bullet? No. Never. Levy shifted his weight. His chains clanged. The court officers jumped. Bonturo sniggered. One of the Justice Department observers whispered into a micro recorder. Maddie’s countdown reached thirty-three. Gomita returned the statute book to its shelf.

  “Ms. Devlin,” the judge said. “Could you foresee any circumstances under which Mr. Levy would jump bail before trial?”

  Maddie adjusted the goose-neck of the microphone on the lectern reserved for defense counsel. The only sound in the court-room was the soft tapping of the court stenographer’s machine. Maddie wished someone would cough or sneeze. Her answer, she knew from previous appearances before Judge Gomita, would lead to another question and every answer thereafter to another until her final answer was the same as Gomita’s conclusion. She measured her words with care knowing the choice of an imprecise word would weaken her argument or, worse, cause it to be misinterpreted or misunderstood. Simple language, she decided, would be best. “If Massachusetts had not abolished the death penalty and if the evidence against Mr. Levy were air tight, he would have nothing to lose by jumping bail; but the death penalty has been abolished and the evidence is not air-tight.”

  Titters cascaded throughout the court-room until Gomita gaveled them to silence. “He is charged with a crime punishable by mandatory life imprisonment. Why would that not be incentive to jump bail?”

  “The law does not deal in hypotheticals, Your Honor. Especially the criminal law. Anything is possible, but very little is beyond a reasonable doubt.”

  “Is that the evidentiary standard at a bail hearing?”

  “Mere possibility is not the standard.”

  “Neither is ‘beyond a reasonable doubt.’ I am required to admit a defendant to bail unless I determine, in the exercise of my discretion, releasing him will not reasonably assure his appearance at trial. In order to make that finding, I must determine whether Mr. Levy’s perception of the likelihood of conviction and subsequent sentencing is such that he will flee. Why isn’t the testimony of this witness relevant to that inquiry?”

  “Because until this witness testifies, Mr. Levy will not know what his testimony will be. The testimony itself may change Mr. Levy’s perceptions. If he is not likely to flee now, he can-not be held without bail because you admit testimony in his presence at this hearing which manufactures the likelihood of flight. It’s a form of entrapment which is contrary to law both for the police and for judges.”

  “I could sequester him,” Gomita said.

  Maddie wished Gomita would. It would violate Levy’s constitutional right to confront the witness against him. Gomita, unfortunately, was too astute to make such a fundamental mistake.

  Gomita continued, “Mr. Levy may not know what this witness’s testimony will be, but he may know from other sources the information the witness will provide.”

  “In that case, it should be excluded as being so inflammatory as to be prejudicial.”

  “Are you suggesting I will be swayed by inflammatory evidence?”

  “You are not the only audience. This witness’s testimony may be inaccurately reported by the press and misunderstood by the public. They may become even more enraged, which will incite further action by Bumper’s Brigade and make it impossible to select an impartial jury for trial.”

  “Are you prepared to waive your request for bail?”

  “Are you prepared to close this hearing to the public?”

  “No.” Gomita’s voice froze the humidity in the court-room.

  Maddie glanced around. She did not see Moskovitzky or Rabbi ben Reuben. Hornstein smirked. C. J. Ant nodded approval. Michelle Furey smiled. Levy had the expression of someone listening to a speech in a foreign language. If bail were denied by the court rather than waived by defense counsel, Maddie would be beyond reproach. Yes, it was form over substance. Yes, it was faking the good fight. That would be her strategy, to appear beyond reproach, to be beyond reproach. “No, Judge. The defendant will not waive his request reasonable bail be set.”

  “I am inclined to let this witness testify provided Mr. Bonturo can qualify him as an expert in comparative religion.”

  “Please note my objection for the record.”

  The rules of trial were so courtly. No matter what Maddie thought of a judge or his ruling, she registered her opinion by asking the judge to note her objection for the record. This simple phrase could mask contempt, disgust, dismay, disbelief, and on rare occasions, merely dissatisfaction. Experienced trial counsel mastered the skill of mouthing this simple phrase in a monotone which never varied, which never revealed their true reaction unless they intended it to. She was better at this than Bonturo, who announced his objections like a batter arguing a called third strike with a blind umpire. Like those batters, he had been thrown out of the game more than once, held in contempt, fined, threatened with imprisonment. Maddie hoped she could bait him into erupting without Gomita realizing what she was doing.

  “We’ll take the morning recess now,” Gomita announced, “and reconvene in fifteen minutes.”


  The court officers flanking Levy closed ranks around him, keeping everyone away save for Maddie who tried to explain why she did not waive bail. The more she talked, the blanker his expression became until she excused herself to use the ladies’ room. Security accompanied her. As the recess dragged on, those who had rushed to buy coffee or use the bathrooms drifted back. Reporters lined up at the pay phones to transmit preliminary stories to their copy editors. Television news personalities primped and preened in preparation for taping background filler to use on the evening news. Attorneys joked about the judge being on the phone with his stockbroker or his bookie or arranging an afternoon tee time or an illicit liaison at the Parker House. Maddie refused all requests for interviews. By the time the recess reached thirty minutes, Rabbi ben Reuben and Moskovitzky had arrived.

  “Predictable,” Maddie said in response to the rabbi’s question. “Charlie Sullivan described the appearance of the library when he found Bumper’s body and identified the skull-cap he found under the chair. Forensics described the tests it did on the hair found in the seam and on one of Levy’s hairs and concluded both came from the same head. The coroner gave his report on the cause and time of death. Bonturo called Professor Husam al din al-Saffah as an expert on comparative religions and Gomita overruled my objection. The court’s been in recess since then.”

  Moskovitzky handed Maddie a thick file. She had time only to scan the first few pages before the hearing resumed.

  In response to Bonturo’s well-planned and well-phrased questions, a selective biography of al-Saffah was entered in the court record: degrees from universities in Cairo and Beirut; teaching appointments to the Arab-American school in Saudi Arabia and Leeds, one of the lesser British universities; publication of numerous books and articles comparing the Semitic religions and explicating the influence of Christianity on their development–the normal indicia of a professor asked to testify in court as an expert concerning his academic specialty. Al-Saffah answered each question with precision and conviction as if he were trying to convince the court and the media he belonged on the faculty of Harvard rather than that of a secondary commuter campus of a state university. Bonturo had woodshedded him well.

  “Do you wish to cross-examine on qualifications?” Gomita asked when Bonturo finished.

  Maddie positioned herself at the lectern. “How, when, did you get your facial scar?”

  “Objection!” Bonturo’s face reddened.

  “It’s a foundation question, your Honor.”

  “You may have it de bene.”

  Al-Saffah caressed the scar with the nubs of his missing fingers. “I do not remember not having this scar.”

  “Does June, 1937, refresh your recollection?”

  “I received my degree from Beirut that year.”

  “May I approach, Your Honor?” Gomita nodded and Maddie walked slowly to the witness stand, leaned against the railing next to al-Saffah’s chair, and looked directly into his eyes. Images of Fantasia flashed through her mind. Willing herself not to break eye contact, she removed a page from Moskovitzky’s file and held it so the blank side faced al-Saffah, then paused as if she were reading it. “Is it not true, Professor, you suffered your facial scar and lost your fingers in a terrorist raid on a Jewish stone quarry in Haifa in June, 1937?” She lay the sheet of paper face down on the railing.

  “Objection!” Bonturo shouted, half-rising from his chair.

  “Bias, Your Honor. The defendant is Jewish and the precise accusation against him, a blood libel, is made only against Jews. This witness has a history of anti-Semitic terrorist activities. This history is essential to your consideration of his credibility.”

  “You may have the question.”

  “I am a professor of Semitic studies. I have spent my life studying comparative religions, the ways in which people record and interpret God’s revelations.”

  “Perhaps the British Parliament debates of July, 1937 concerning the Peel Commission Report will refresh your recollection. Are you the same Husam al din al-Saffah who is mentioned so prominently?”

  “Zionist lies.”

  Maddie withdrew the sheet of paper and returned to the counsel table. She picked up a report prepared by the rabbi comparing and contrasting Judaism and Islam, then paused until she sensed Gomita’s anticipation was edging toward impatience. Impatience tended to defeat the yawns of boring testimony and focus the attention of judges. It was analogous, C. J. Ant had once explained, to a partially clothed woman being sexier, more alluring, than a naked one. When she had hooked Gomita, she asked her next question. “Islam and Judaism are both Semitic religions, are they not?”

  “Yes,” al-Saffah replied.

  “Abraham is a patriarch of both religions?”

  “Yes.”

  “Both religions share many common beliefs?”

  “Yes.”

  “But their development diverged?”

  “Yes. Allah sent his messenger Muhammad to purify the corruption of Abraham’s religion caused by Jews and Christians.”

  “And your mission in life is to speed up the purification process, is it not? No further questions.” She looked directly at him. I’m digging up your past, her eyes said, and this morning I’ve put the first skeletons on display.

  “The witness qualifies as an expert,” Judge Gomita ruled. “As defense counsel so ably reminded me, the issue of bias goes to his credibility and the weight to be given his testimony, not its admissibility. Proceed, Mr. Bonturo. You may have your objection, Ms. Devlin.”

  Maddie glanced at Rabbi ben Reuben and Moskovitzky. The night before in the rabbi’s study they had educated her on the history of the blood libel accusation to prepare her to cross-examine al-Saffah, reviewing with her the litany of false accusations that Jews murdered young Christian boys for their blood to bake Passover matzoh: Norwich, England in 1144; Blois, France in 1171; southwestern Germany between 1336 and 1338; Poland in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries and again in the first half of the eighteenth; Russia in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries; the Damascus affair of 1840; the Beiliss trial in Russia in 1913; and the Massena, New York incident in 1928.

  “Five popes,” the rabbi had explained, “denounced blood libel accusations as false: Innocent IV, Gregory X, Martin V, Paul III, and Clement XIV. Confiscation of Jewish property and the aggrandizement of the local church and clerics inevitably followed blood libel accusations, both of which suffered from extreme poverty before the accusation and enjoyed comfortable wealth after.”

  “The cases,” Moskovitzky had said, resting his elbows on the rabbi’s desk, “are nothing more than contrivances engineered by recognized anti-Semites to legitimize looting.”

  “Not one allegation of blood libel,” the rabbi had added, “has been proven in the nine hundred years the accusation has been utilized to justify violence against Jews and forfeiture of their property.”

  “So what?” Maddie had replied. “The falsity of a blood libel accusation in Norwich, England in 1144 does not establish Levy’s innocence in Boston, Massachusetts, in 1981.”

  Now, Bonturo asked his next question, raising his voice for the benefit of the judge, the police, the reporters, the spectators. “Professor al-Saffah. Please explain the historical and religious significance of the blood libel accusation, and its relevance to the murder charge against Avram Levy.”

  Al-Saffah took a deep breath. He, too, Maddie thought, knows how to bait his audience. “I’ve made a careful and complete study of the historical record. Most commonly, this accusation is made when a Christian child disappears and cannot be found. A suspect is apprehended, always Jewish, and his property is confiscated. Then, as if by miracle, the child reappears and provides the evidence necessary to convict the accused. Symbolically, it is a reenactment of the crucifixion and resurrection. From a practical viewpoint, it is a mechanism to transfer and redistribute wealth and property.”

  “In your expert opinion,” Bonturo asked, “is this explanation correct?
”

  “No. It is a false explanation fabricated by the Jews themselves to make them appear persecuted and to mask the real reason for their ritual murders.”

  “Please explain.”

  “The purpose of this false explanation is to mislead people into believing the crime did not occur.”

  Gomita wrote furiously in his notebook. Maddie habitually watched judges to gauge their reaction to testimony. When a judge’s attention wavered, she changed her line of questioning or, sometimes, called a different witness. If the testimony were essential to her case, she moved around the court-room until she was in the judge’s line of sight. Gomita’s undisguised interest in al-Saffah’s testimony worried her. It was a gauge of its persuasiveness. Judges did not daydream through testimony likely to influence their decisions. Bonturo paused to let Gomita finish taking notes.

  “Are you saying Jews do engage in ritual murder but offer a false explanation as proof they do not?”

  “Objection,” Maddie said. “Leading the witness.”

  “This is a bench hearing, Ms. Devlin. You may have the question, Mr. Bonturo.”

  “Precisely,” al-Saffah said. “By convincing everyone the historical explanation is false the Jews mislead them into believing the ritual murder did not occur.”