There was a rustling of paper to Kat's right, and then she noticed Mr. Vincent standing up.
"Your honour," he said to the judge. "I would like to ask Professor Gillin a few questions."
"The court recognizes the honourable Mr. Vincent."
"The reports you have itemized are chilling, Professor. I agree with you that these crimes of humanity must not go unpunished. However, in all of your reports, not a single one deals with the village of Orelets."
"My knowledge is based on German documents which itemize police operations in occupied territory. My testimony is not directed at the overall Ukrainian situation," replied Professor Gillin.
"In fact, all of these incidents took place more than one hundred kilometres away from where Mr. Feschuk was stationed as an auxiliary policeman. Your reports mention only occasional involvement of any auxiliary police, and you have not mentioned any incidents that could even remotely have involved my client. Why then, are you mentioning them?"
Kat sat up at this point. She had listened to the horrors one by one and had assumed that it was documentation directly related to her grandfather.
A wave of annoyance briefly passed over Professor Gillin's face, but then he regained his composure. "This information is provided to give further understanding of the role that the auxiliary police played in the massacre of Jews during World War II."
"The reports you are reading from itemize the rare involvement of auxiliary police. However, each reference you made involved those who served in police battalions, yet my client did not serve in a police battalion."
What, wondered Kat, was Mr. Vincent trying to get at? Her grandfather was clearly an auxiliary policeman.
"Mr. Feschuk performed precinct service in the towns and villages," Mr. Vincent continued. "The atrocities described by Professor Gillin were carried out by Germans."
Kat listened with interest. Now that she thought about it, on the one occasion when Professor Gillin mentioned the name of a "Ukrainian" auxiliary policeman, it had been a German name.
"On the rare occasion when auxiliary police are mentioned, they are battalion auxiliary police, not precinct auxiliary police," continued Mr. Vincent.
"A fine point, but you are correct," conceded the professor.
In Kat's mind, it was more than a fine point. It was the difference between evidence of her grandfather's guilt and innocence. She looked over at her grandfather and noticed that his knuckles were no longer white.
"And you have no documentation of atrocities carried out by any auxiliary police within one hundred kilometres of where my client was stationed?"
"That is correct."
"I have no further questions." said Mr. Vincent.
Just then, the judge himself made a comment. "It should be noted," he said, "that reports made by German officers cannot be taken at face value. They, of course, would minimize their own culpability by spreading the blame."
Mr. Vincent nodded in agreement.
Kat sat there, still trying to digest all that she had heard. Why had this expert witness been called all the way from England if he had no direct evidence against her grandfather?
The next witness was a woman with a thin bun of snow-coloured hair. Her thick wire-rimmed glasses had lenses so large that they overpowered her fragile features. She had trouble bending her knee to step into the witness stand, so Mrs. Caine jumped up from her seat and gently guided her to her chair.
Kat leaned forward, intent on hearing every word of the woman's testimony.
Mrs. Caine stood in front of the witness stand. In a gentle voice, she asked, "Could you please state your name?"
The woman leaned forward and spoke with crisp enunciation into the microphone. "My name is Mrs. Anne Pensky."
"Can you tell me what happened to you in the summer of 1941 when you were ten years old?" Mrs. Caine asked.
"I was herded into the Ozeryany ghetto with approximately 835 other Jewish men, women and children."
"Who was it that gathered you up and put you in the ghetto?" Mrs. Caine asked.
"German soldiers."
"Who guarded the ghetto?" Mrs. Caine asked.
"Ukrainian police from Ozeryany," she stated. "Some of them I knew by name."
"Can you tell me about the killings?" Mrs. Caine asked gently.
"The black uniformed German soldiers came with guns and ordered all the men and women — the adults — to ... to ... line up." Mrs. Pensky choked back tears, then took a deep breath. "There were carts following behind. Anyone who stumbled was put in a cart."
In a voice so low that it was barely audible, Mrs. Caine asked, "Could you tell the court what happened then?"
"My mother and father were part of that group," said Mrs. Pensky, gulping back tears. "They were marched to the graveyard, where they were forced to dig their own graves, and then they were shot."
"Who was it that did the shooting?" asked Mrs. Caine.
"It was the Ukrainians," said Mrs. Pensky, in a voice clear through her tears. "They shot them."
Kat sat there stunned by what she heard. So here it was: direct testimony of Ukrainians killing Jews. Kat waited, wondering what would come next. Would the woman point her finger at her grandfather and identify him?
Just then, Kat saw Mr. Vincent stand.
"Your honour," he said. "May I ask the witness a question?"
"The court recognizes Mr. Vincent," said the judge.
Mr. Vincent smoothed down the front of his robe as he approached the woman in the witness stand. He paused for a moment, as if trying to compose himself.
"Mrs. Pensky," he said. "I am sorry that you have had to testify here today. I realize that this must be very difficult."
The woman nodded, then dabbed the corner of her eye with an embroidered handkerchief.
"This is a delicate question, but one that I must ask: where were you when the shootings took place?"
"I was in the ghetto with the other children," she replied. Kat noticed that Mrs. Pensky was staring out into the distance. It was as if she were looking into the past, seeing those scenes over and over again in her mind.
"Where exactly in the ghetto?" asked Mr. Vincent.
"We were in the school inside the ghetto. This was used as a synagogue. When the adults were led out to their deaths, we children hid there and said prayers for their souls."
"Could you see the graveyard from the school?"
Mrs. Pensky looked at the lawyer quizzically. "No, you couldn't," she said.
"Then how did you witness the killings?"
"I heard the guns fire," she said in her clear voice. "I can picture it as if I were standing right there now."
"If you didn't see the killings, how do you know that it was Ukrainians who did the killings?" he asked.
"I just know," she said emphatically. "It was the Ukrainians."
Kat's eyes had been riveted on the witness throughout this exchange. The woman was so sure, yet she hadn't seen it. Kat turned her head slightly so that she could see the men and women who had come to support the plaintiff's side. They were all nodding in agreement. It seemed that they too knew too, despite the lack of a witness.
"Mrs. Pensky, may I ask you to look at the defendant?"
Mrs. Pensky reluctantly turned her eyes in that direction. It was as if she didn't want to see Danylo.
Kat looked over at her grandfather and saw that he was staring right at Mrs. Pensky, then she saw Mrs. Pensky meet his gaze.
"Do you recognize this man?" asked Mr. Vincent.
"I know that he was one of those Ukrainian Police," said Mrs. Pensky in her clear voice.
The judge intercepted, "Please, Mrs. Pensky, answer the question."
"No, I do not recognize him."