The Fruit Picker

by Bea Eschen

  Question: “What happened then?”

  Aaron: “He was just standing there, so I called up to him.”

  Question: “What did you say?”

  Aaron: “I yelled out ‘What’s going on up there’?”

  Question: “Did he answer?”

  Aaron: “No. So I went up and found him and then the dead man on the floor.”

  Question: “Where was Sebastian?”

  Aaron: “He was standing there looking at the dead man.”

  Question: “In relation to the deceased, where was Sebastian?”

  Aaron: “About twenty centimeters away I think.”

  Question: “What happened then?”

  Aaron: “I wanted to pull out the knife that was sticking in the chest of the dead man.”

  Question: “Did anyone speak?”

  Aaron: “Yes, I asked what we could do and if we should pull out the knife, but Sebastian told me not to touch anything and asked me to ring the emergency.”

  Moore continued to draw out the evidence from Aaron and a recording was played to the jury of the phone call Aaron had made to emergency. It was clear the he was in distress, sighing and sobbing repeatedly.

  Question: “Is that the phone call you made on that day to triple zero?”

  Aaron: “Yes, it is.”

  The courtroom was very quiet after Aaron’s voice recording had ended. It was heartbreaking to hear his panicked voice.

  Moore: “On a different note, can you confirm that there was an assassination attempt on Sebastian.”

  Aaron: “Yes, I can confirm that as I was standing right next to him.”

  Moore: “When and where did it happen?”

  Aaron: “It happened in Katherine on the road, about two weeks after the murder. We went straight to the local police station to report it.”

  “Thank you, Aaron. The police report is on my file.”

  Moore: “I have no further questions, Your Honour.”

  “This is the end of the questioning, Mr Roshal. Good Bye.”

  Aaron disappeared off the screen, which was retracting back into the ceiling.

  Whispering words from the defence and Arief Lee penetrated the courtroom. Tension grew as everyone seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation of what was coming next. Defence counsel asked to approach the Bench. Moore followed. Yong asked for adjournment as his client had given him a message of importance.

  Judge: “Court is adjourned for legal argument. Court will resume at 2.00 pm.”

  Orderly: “All rise.”

  Everyone stood up. The judge left the courtroom, followed by the legal teams.

  Mixed feelings and thoughts consumed Sebastian when he watched Arief being let out of the prisoner dock and disappearing behind the door that led to the holding cell. Arief seemed to be numb and oblivious to what was happening around him. His composure was that of a broken man.

  I sealed his fate. Thanks to me, he will spend many years in prison. Nothing I should be proud of. But isn’t it my duty to help protect society from murderers like him? Except, his reason for killing his brother-in-law may even be justified because it hints at a domestic dispute. The disappearance of that woman surely plays a part in it. But killing another person can never be justified! Everybody has the right to live, and killing someone is like stealing the right to live from that person!

  The time until two o’clock dragged on. Sebastian climbed up a few levels to get a better view of the large floor mosaic representing yiwarra, the Milky Way. The curved band stretching across the starry night sky is the Milky Way, he thought, but what does this cluster of seven circles mean? Celestial bodies? It seemed there was a hidden truth in there, something heavy and dark, cosmic and incomprehensible. Hidden truth. With these words in mind Sebastian went back to the courtroom. He was relieved to find a seat in the last row of the public gallery.

  “All rise.” The court orderly shouted.

  The judge, followed by the defence and prosecution counsels, took their seats. Arief Lee appeared in the prisoner dock and sat down. After a moment of silence, Wang Yong rose to address the Bench:

  “Your Honour, my client Heryanto Sukarnoputi, wishes to make a statement.”

  Judge: “Proceed.”

  Court orderly addressing Arief Lee: “Please stand.”

  Arief Lee stood up slowly. With his head bent he spoke slowly and was barely audible from where Sebastian was sitting.

  “I wish to confess.” Pause.

  Yong: “Your Honour, may I have a word with my client.”

  A murmur went through the public gallery.

  Judge: “Silence!”

  Turning to Arief, the judge asked him if he wanted to talk to his lawyer first.

  Arief continued: “No, I am guilty. I killed my brother-in-law Wahir because I believe he killed my wife, whose remains are buried in bushland

  south of Darwin. I shot Wahir in the head, and stabbed him in his heart for what he did to my beloved wife, Farah. She died of an overdose of heroin in the night of 20th of December 2015. Wahir gave her the heroin.”

  Arief slumped back on his chair, fainting. His eyes rolled up, his face went white, and he fell on the floor. He saw Farah’s laughing face before his eyes. It didn’t matter to him if he was stuck in prison for the rest of his life. His plan had been to confess to everything from the onset, including the cause of death of his beloved wife and the location of her grave. It was Imam, Garuda’s manager, who had hired the defence team to get him out. If it had been up to Arief, he would have pleaded guilty to all charges right from the start. But it was taken out of his hands.

  A guard hurried to him. “We need a doctor.”

  Judge: “Court is adjourned until further notice.”

  The medical forensic pathologist, who was still there, rushed to Arief. He stabilised him and called for an ambulance.

  Everyone left the courtroom.

  __________

  Sebastian was crying when he called for Dural to pick him up. The events of the day had been heavy, and Sebastian was exhausted. Arief’s confessions made his heart bleed with sorrow and pity. On the way back to the camp, he hardly spoke and Dural focused on the bumpy road.

  Sebastian needed a few days to recover from his court ordeal. He had a lengthy Facetime conversation with Aaron who was well and humorous. Sebastian told him of his plan to go to Sydney where he had applied for work in several bakeries. His bread making skills came in handy, but to be able to stay in Australia he needed a visa sponsorship job. Once he found an employer willing to sponsor him on a temporary work visa, he would be legally allowed to stay and work in Australia. The witness assistance service in Katherine assisted Sebastian with claiming witness expenses and Sebastian calculated to cover the cost for the visa with that. He had also saved money from the fruit picking work that would help him get to Sydney and find accommodation.

  The following week Glenn Moore phoned. Court would resume two days later for the sentencing of Arief Lee. Dural and Sebastian took the long drive to Darwin Supreme Court again. Sebastian found a seat in the front of the public gallery.

  Court orderly: “All rise.”

  After the judge sat down, he turned to Arief Lee, who looked awful.

  “Mr. Sukarnoputi, I am going to sentence you now. You can sit down for now because there are a few things I need to talk to you about first.”

  Arief and everyone in the courtroom sat down.

  “You are charged on the count of murder and on the count of misconduct with a corpse and on the count of passport fraud.

  I will deal with the count of murder first. You have changed your plea from not guilty to guilty and confessed to killing your brother-in-law, Wahir Dur Gus, because, as you allege, he took a part in the death of your late wife.

  You intended to kill the victim, and you shot him in the head at close range, which amounts to murder. According to the Crimes Act 1900-Sect 18, murder carries a maximum penalty of life imprisonment or twenty-five years.

>   You also admitted that you stabbed the deceased in the heart after you shot him. You may or may not have been aware that Wahir Dur Gus was already dead when you stabbed him. You said that you do not know, and that you were in a desperate rage, which I believe. In this case, I use the impulsiveness of your stabbing, which is the lack of intent, as reason to exclude you from the crime of mutilation of a corpse.

  Second count: Misconduct with a corpse. You failed to report the death of your wife to the

  police. Until now we do not have the identity of the deceased woman and you claim to not know what her real name was. Her death was a reportable death because, as you allege, she died of an unnatural cause in suspicious circumstances. However, you showed us her grave and told us what happened. Saying that, the act that covers misconduct with regard to corpses, Crimes Act 1900 – Sect 81C, includes, besides the mutilation of a corpse, also the disposal of human remains. As you admitted, your intention was to avoid an investigation of your wife’s death. This offence carries a maximum term of two years imprisonment.

  Third count: You are of Indonesian origin and entered Australia on a false passport. You have committed passport fraud, and offences under the Australian Passport Act 2005 are indictable. You also lived and worked under a false identity in Australia for a period of over two years. The maximum term of imprisonment for your breach of the Act is a term of ten years of imprisonment.

  Your counsel has given me a little information about your background. You grew up in Jakarta, Indonesia, where you had a troublesome childhood. Your parents died when you were still young and you spent some time in an institution, from which you escaped. You then lived on the road as a homeless youth and person for the most part of your life. Indonesian authorities seek you on serious drug-related charges, which, according to the Indonesian penalty system, carry the death penalty.

  You have changed your plea to guilty, and you confessed to all of your crimes, which I accept is indicative of a change of character. However, because of your criminal background in Indonesia and living under a false identity in Australia in full conscience of your wrongdoing, and for a considerable length of time, I can place only little weight on rehabilitation.

  Would you please stand, Mr. Sukarnoputi.

  If it was not for your full confession to all charges, I would have imposed a sentence of imprisonment for life, or twenty-five years, on the count of murder. Reducing that by five years, you will be convicted and sentenced to a term of imprisonment of twenty years on your first count of murder.

  On the second count, misconduct with a corpse, you will be convicted and sentenced to a term of imprisonment of one year. Had you not confessed your actions with regards to your wife’s body I would have given you the full term of imprisonment of two years.

  On the third count, passport fraud, you will be convicted to the full term of imprisonment of ten years. This is in view of your intention to live and work in Australia under your false identity.

  However, in view of your confession and cooperation in all of the matters, the sentences will be concurrent. That means that your total term of imprisonment amounts to twenty years, backdated to the 29th November 2015. You will be eligible for parole on the 29th of November 2033.”

  The judge struck the gavel.

  Excited voices echoed against the walls.

  Two guards lead Arief Lee, who showed no emotion, out of the prisoner dock. They disappeared behind the door that led to the holding cell.

  Sebastian took a deep breath. Done! The judge had been lenient because of Arief's confession and cooperation. Although twenty years seemed like an eternity, Sebastian found the sentencing just. Now he could finally focus on his own life and was looking forward to it.

  Home At Last

  Sebastian’s witness protection program ended with the sentencing of Arief Lee. Janda offered for him to stay in the camp as long as he would need to find a new home.

  “You can stay forever and help me with the office work, but I can’t pay you.”

  Sebastian was grateful about so much kindness. Janda had become his friend, who would always be there for him. Although the camp felt like a home, Sebastian was cut off from the world − something that he missed more and more. Despite the declines on his applications for a baker’s hand in Sydney he was hoping for a positive answer in the coming weeks.

  All the while his parents tried in vain to convince Sebastian to return to Germany. They argued that his choice of study would be his decision alone as long as he came back. This was the first time they expressed what they had repressed in the years before. They said that they knew about his sexual orientation and they were trying to accept him the way he was. Magda had explained everything to them so they could understand his absence better.

  Magda. Sebastian felt warmth around his heart when her name came up.

  Why was she not born as a boy? Not that Magda would have liked to be born a boy. No, she’d always been content with being female, and everyone who met her was instantly caught by the charm of her femininity. It was the deep feeling he had for her, and their mutual understanding; the feeling of being soul mates.

  The good news came on one and the same day. Thanks to Glenn Moore, Janda’s camp received a distinction for innovative and efficient witness protection. Northern Territory increased its financial contribution and Janda’s service as a witness protector was used more frequently. Witness Protection Assistance employed Wundurra as a ranger with Dural as his superior. Both men beamed with pride. Soon the next order arrived. It was a young woman who allegedly saw a man murder his wife in a park near Darwin. Since the murderer was in a high-ranking position, the woman needed witness protection. Sebastian noticed how Janda's behavior changed when she was present. Obviously he liked her very much, for he fluttered around her like a cock around a hen. They smiled at each other constantly, and the woman received Janda’s care with open arms. He was tender and gentle. It was nice to see Janda in love.

  Sebastian was sitting on Signal Hill when Janda’s text arrived.

  “Mail from Sydney!”

  This time it’s an offer, Sebastian thought as he ran down the path.

  Janda was standing in front of his cave with the letter in his hand. He also sensed what this was about. His eyes without sparkle, his lips tightly pressed together. Sebastian had never seen him serious before. Janda gave him the letter. They were standing opposite each other. Sebastian tore open the envelope and read the lines.

  "And?" Janda asked. "Now tell me!"

  "They take me. Janda! They want me to come. On the twenty-eighth already! This is crazy. It is a traditional German bakery. They do everything according to German recipes. Straight German, you know? Oh, how I miss German cakes. I cannot believe it - they want to know me! They also promise me sponsorship! Sydney, baby, Sydney!"

  In his excitement Sebastian waved the letter before Janda's nose. He laughed at Sebastian's emotional outburst and the countless times he'd spoken the word German before he locked him into his arms.

  "I am very happy for you."

  The unexpected tenderness surprised Sebastian. He let himself be hugged and enjoyed Janda's closeness, who ended his

  embrace with a kiss on Sebastian's cheek. He pushed him gently away and looked deeply into his eyes.

  "I am very grateful to you for all you have done for me."

  "Likewise," Sebastian said, and laughed to take the edge off the serious moment.

  “Remember, you are always welcome here”, Janda said generously. Finally his broad smile appeared again. He took his spear and disappeared into the bush.

  _________

  Sebastian walked through Kings Cross towards the El Alamein Fountain, where he was to meet Ferdinand Breuer, the owner of German Bakers Generation. He had taken the train straight from the airport and was pushing his luggage on the uneven pavement. The worn wheels of his suitcase blocked repeatedly over pebbles and small gaps. It was a Saturday, late afternoon, and the nightclubs, bars and brothels prepa
red for the rewarding weekend business. The red light district extended along Darlinghurst Street in Kings Cross and attracted people from all over the world. Prostitutes with layers of make-up, and dressed with provocative bits and pieces that covered only the most necessary, stood on high heels in the entrances of the brothels, smiling sickly at the male passer-byes to lure their attention. Pimps and brothel owners stood nearby – mostly of Arabian background with steroid pumped-up muscles, and heavily tattooed on their arms, necks and faces and presumably on other parts of their luxurious bodies. The wide pavement was crowded with a mixture of people, who had come for different reasons. Curious tourists and backpackers of all ages on the lookout for discovery and adventure. Professionals returning from their work and hurrying home to make the most of the remaining weekend. Beggars and drug addicts asking silently for money. Families with children on the way to the bistro. Clients looking forward to their visit to one of the brothels. Drug dealers taking advantage of their addicted customers. Skateboarders gallantly manoeuvering their boards in between the pedestrians. Local residents with heavy shopping bags on their way home to cook their special weekend dinner. Drunks yelling out of the open windows of the pubs. The Harley-Davidson-Club, contributing to the charged atmosphere with their noisy engines. Uniformed and armed police officers, constantly patrolling the street giving a feeling of safety in this energy-laden and dubious place.

  What a crowd, Sebastian thought as he passed a group of screaming young women who were pushing against something pink and big. What do they have there? Like the people around him, he stopped to take a closer look. It was a one-and-a-half-meter long, balloon-like penis that made the young women hysterical and took their breath away. Sebastian laughed and shook his head over so much craziness.

  “They are going nuts over that penis. Are there not enough men around?” He heard a passing woman say.

  “Yes, there are, but most men in this area are gay!” Her partner answered.