The judge then said that he would ask both the plaintiff and the defendant to state their positions. The plaintiff was asked to begin.
Mrs. Caine, the young woman lawyer from across the aisle rose and addressed the judge.
"Your honour, we will prove to this court that Danylo Feschuk, the man sitting opposite, voluntarily collaborated with the German army between 1941 and 1943 when he worked as an auxiliary police officer in the village of Orelets in the administrative province of Volhyn, which is in the north-west corner of present-day Ukraine. We will further prove to you that he committed atrocities on civilians during his time as an auxiliary police officer. Further, we will prove that he did not disclose these atrocities to immigration authorities when he applied to become a Canadian citizen. If he had done so, he would not have been granted citizenship. Mr. Feschuk deserves a much harsher penalty than mere revocation of citizenship, but unfortunately, this is the only avenue of redress open to us at this time."
The young woman sat down, and then Mr. Vincent rose.
"Your honour, the defence does not dispute the fact that Danylo Feschuk was an auxiliary police officer for the Germans between 1941 and 1943. The defence further states that Mr. Feschuk had no reason to hide his role as an auxiliary policeman, because citizenship would not have been denied him for that reason. In addition, there is no evidence that he committed atrocities. We will demonstrate that his role as an auxiliary police officer did not constitute collaboration with the Nazis. Indeed, we will show that while his superiors may have believed he was collaborating with them, he was in reality working with the resistance, as thousands of other auxiliary police throughout Volhyn were doing. Mr. Feschuk had nothing to hide from immigration authorities when he came to Canada, and therefore he had no reason to lie."
The next hour or two was taken up with minutiae that Kat really couldn't follow. In her mind hung a single word: atrocities. Of what was her grandfather being accused? How would she still be able to love him if she found out that he had committed atrocities?
Mercifully, a lunch break was called. As Kat and her family slowly walked towards the double oak door in a daze, Mr. Vincent caught up with them. Kat noted that he had removed his black robe and was wearing a normal grey wool suit. "The cafeteria in the basement has decent food," he said. "And it's not too expensive." He motioned to them to follow him down the elevator. The supporters from the church and the Nguyens were close behind.
Kat happened to get a spot in the cafeteria line-up just behind the young woman lawyer who presented the case against her grandfather. She had removed her black robe too, and Kat found her much less threatening in her cream coloured jacket and trousers. The woman grabbed a carton of milk and then a tossed salad from behind the Plexiglas door. "Stay clear of the noodle soup," she said to Kat pleasantly. "It's vile."
Kat smiled back at her. How odd that this woman could be so nice. It must all be in a day's work for her to tear apart and impoverish families. Kat grabbed some red Jell-O and a carton of orange juice for herself. She didn't really feel like eating: she was just going through the motions.
When she sat down across from her mother and beside her grandfather, she noticed that the Nguyens and the other supporters were all sitting within a hands-breadth of Danylo. Kat found that comforting.
She looked across the table at her mother and saw dark circles under her eyes. Those hadn't been there six months ago. This case had certainly taken its toll on her. Kat hadn't really looked closely at her mother for some time, and so she noticed other changes too. She must have lost some weight. Her cheeks had a hollow appearance to them and there was a furrow of worry between her eyebrows. Her gaze met Kat's. There was something new there too, realized Kat. Her eyes used to have a look of soft contented kindness in them, but this was now replaced with a steel blue glint of determination. The change sent a shiver through Kat. It was as if this woman sitting across from her was no longer her mother, but some sort of warrior queen. As if she knew what her daughter was thinking, she suddenly winked, and that motherly softness fleetingly returned.
"What is the order of the proceedings?" Kat asked her mother.
"The first part is the hardest," explained Orysia. "The plaintiff goes first, so that means they dish out all the bad stuff they have on your grandfather."
Kat dipped her spoon into her red Jell-O. "Then what?"
"Then we tell our side."
Kat pondered that. It would be good to get the bad stuff over at the beginning, she figured, but what would they say? She almost didn't want to know.
Kat looked over at Danylo. He was staring into a Styrofoam bowl of noodle soup. Kat watched as he put one spoonful into his mouth and slowly swallowed. Then he pushed it away. Kat noticed that his face was still pale and that his hands trembled. "Have some Jell-O," she said, offering him her spoon.
"I can't eat," he said. "I just want to get this over with."
Don't we all, thought Kat.
The hearing resumed with a historical expert called by the plaintiff. Professor Chris Gillin had travelled from Britain to testify at Danylo's hearing. He was tall and slim and clean-shaven. Kat estimated his age to be no more than forty.
Professor Gillin was considered an expert on National Socialist Germany and the Holocaust. He had written four books on the subject, including one called Ordinary Soldiers, a book about the Order Police in Nazi Germany.
He described how and why the Germans initiated the auxiliary police programs. In July 1941, barely a month after their invasion of Soviet territory, the Germans realized that they lacked the manpower to administer all the villages and towns throughout the vast region. Units of local police or Schutzmannschaften were chosen, and the Security Police were in charge of them. These men were not issued uniforms. Instead, they wore old Soviet or German uniforms and were identified by a special armband.
The men and their families were given food, plus the men were supposed to be paid on a daily basis. If not enough volunteers could be generated through incentives alone, the Security Police could recruit from the prisoner-of-war camps.
As Professor Gillin read from his notes, Kat flinched as he listed each killing.
"The participation of Ukrainian auxiliary police in killings of Jews can occasionally be documented." he said. "I have a report from one German officer that states, ‘On September 19
and 20, 1942, a Jewish action was carried out in the village of Domachevko by the SD Sonderkommando, with the help of a squadron of Gendarmerie and the auxiliary police. Two thousand, nine hundred Jews were shot."
There was a rustling in the rows of observers on the plaintiff's side. Kat looked over with the corner of her eye and saw that one of the elderly women was weeping. It cut her to the quick to think that these people had probably witnessed what this professor was itemizing. How hard it must be for them to listen to it all again.
Professor Gillen flipped through his notes and read more, "There were other reports from a Police Battalion hunting down Jews in the northern parts of Volhyn-Podolia in the fall of 1942 that occasionally referred to working with the auxiliary police."
As Professor Gillin mentioned killing after killing, Kat felt like she was going to be sick. Was her grandfather one of these men? Was he one of these auxiliary police who had been involved in the killing of Jews? It was horrible to think of all those deaths, and it was even worse to think that perhaps her own grandfather could have been responsible. She looked over to her grandfather and saw that his face was pale as stone and that he held onto the sides of his chair with a white-knuckled grip.