"You also taught me to do what I believed was right."
"That advice was not contradictory," he said.
"Charlie, I've always sought the truth. I've never lied to the court."
"And never will?"
It took me a moment to answer. "Charlie, have you ever had a situation where the truth and justice don't coincide, where the truth will do more harm than good?"
He pointed his pipe at me. "That's not for us to judge. We speak the truth and let the system handle it."
"The system doesn't work, Charlie."
"Balderdash! It just worked. You walked your client out of a murder charge when it seemed you had no chance."
"You think I can do it twice?"
"That's not my concern. The truth is the ideal we strive for. The truth is all that matters. Veritas vos liberabit."
"No, Charlie. Sometimes the truth will imprison you."
Chrissy wore an ivory linen suit with a fitted jacket and fabric-covered buttons. The pleated skirt stopped just above the knee. It was an innocent outfit if I've ever seen one.
The clerk of the grand jury asked if I promised to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.
I allowed as how I would. My palms weren't sweaty and my nose didn't grow. Lightning didn't sound in the distance and the wind didn't rattle the windowpanes.
I sat on the witness stand and marveled at the different view, looking toward the gallery. Abe Socolow approached me and asked a bunch of preliminary questions, including whether he could call me Jake, inasmuch as we'd known each other all these years. I said he'd called me a lot worse, so he got down to business.
"And when you entered the home of Guy Bernhardt the night before last, what did you find?"
"Guy Bernhardt was aiming a shotgun at Chrissy Bernhardt, and she was aiming a Beretta 950 at him."
Abe had me identity the two weapons, the massive shotgun and the little pistol.
"Did either party threaten to shoot the other?" Abe asked.
"They each threatened the other," I said.
"What did you do, Jake?"
"I asked Guy to put down the shotgun, and he refused."
"Then what happened?"
"Two shots were fired, one by each of the parties."
"Who fired the first shot?"
Chrissy looked at me with haunting green eyes. Seeking, pleading. Abe Socolow stood a foot away, his hand resting on the witness chair. Twenty-three grand jurors, solid citizens all, waited for me to answer.
So I did.
I followed Charlie's advice.
Half of it, at least.
I did what I thought was right.