“And then you went to Longwood Gardens and publicly accused him of kidnapping and raping you. Isn’t that exactly what you did?”
“No, no.” Shana said, and then shouted, “No, I wanted to understand what had happened. I wanted him to help me understand it.”
“I’m sure the jury,” Davic remarked dryly, “will form their own opinion of what you wanted, Miss Selby.”
“Objection. I’ve tried to control myself, Your Honor, but—”
“Sustained.”
“Miss Selby, didn’t you accuse Earl Thomson of raping you after you’d phoned him for the express purpose of inviting him to meet with you somewhere?”
In the deepening silence, Davic looked at Shana’s bowed head. “Miss Selby? Isn’t that the truth?”
“Yes.”
Davic dropped his hands and returned to the defense table. “I have no further questions, Your Honor. If it please the court, the defense rests.”
Earl Thomson stretched his legs and settled back in his chair as Davic sat down beside him.
When Brett stood up, Earl watched her with a speculative smile. Judge Flood said, “On the basis of what presumably is surprise testimony, People’s counsel has the right to cross-examine her own witness if she choses to.”
“The testimony of Shana Selby,” Brett said, “came as no surprise to the People’s counsel, Your Honor. The witness discussed her testimony with me in detail. I have no need to cross-examine her. But if it please the court, I would like Shana to explain in her own words — as she explained to me — what she hoped to accomplish by communicating with Mr. Thomson.”
“I object, Your Honor.” Davic was on his feet. “I see no reason for elaboration—”
“But Mr. Davic,” Flood reminded him, “you asked the same question of the witness. Why did Miss Selby call the defendant?”
“The defense was satisfied with her response.”
“The bench was not. You may expand your testimony, young lady, and I’ll ask for order and silence.” Flood glanced up at the gallery. “As has been said here, the public’s presence at criminal trials is a privilege, not a right... Miss Selby?”
Shana looked over the silent rows of spectators, then said quietly, “I wanted to tell him, my mother was dead, that she’d been killed in an automobile accident. I wasn’t sure why at first. But I finally realized it might make him know that I was just as human as he was, that I wasn’t any different from him. I didn’t believe he understood that. Because I don’t believe a person who deliberately hurts another person realizes the damage he can do. I thought the person who’d hurt me should know how much pain he’d caused. Maybe he didn’t understand he’d hurt... both of us. I thought if I could make him realize he’d hurt himself maybe even more than he’d hurt me...” She stopped and moistened her lips. “Well, then he might understand that what he did went beyond just us. My mother helped me understand that. She said people did things sometimes for reasons we didn’t understand or know about, and to remember that whenever we felt real angry or disappointed and wanted to get back at them.”
Shana’s voice became stronger and clearer. “Dr. Clemens thought I wasn’t religious. Well, maybe he knows more than I do. But I think my father is a religious person in his own way, and I know that Purim means more than hamantashin or Haman’s little three-cornered hats. And tagluch isn’t all there is to Rosh Hashanah. I know there’s a time in every religion for confession and forgiveness. We were taught about redemption and repentance at home, my mother and grandmother taught us. We learned there’s a Book of Life and a Book of Death for all of us, but they aren’t kept up in churches or temples by some old man with a white beard. They’re in the way we treat each other. There’s nothing to the sound of the shofar, or to the story of Abraham, who would sacrifice his son for the love of God, or to Christ on the cross if we don’t believe it’s wrong to hurt and kill each other. So if he could tell me why he hurt me, well, I thought I could maybe understand why it had happened. And so could he.
“I thought if I could help him that it would help me to understand and get rid of my angers. I didn’t want to go on hating him all my life. I knew he hated me, I could feel it. If he found out, like my mother said, what he really hated, maybe it would help him. And me. I don’t have the right to judge and forgive anybody, maybe, but I can still try to understand them. I told Dr. Clemens a prayer of my grandmother’s. We called her Tishie. She read it to me from a prayer book and I memorized it... ‘How can we give thanks when we remember / Treblinka? / The storm ends. / In the sky a rainbow signals hope and new life. / Again and yet again there is a song to sing.’ ”
Shana pushed back a strand of her hair. “Dr. Clemens told me that wasn’t a prayer, that it was wishful thinking. Maybe trying to talk to Earl Thomson was wishful thinking, but I just felt I had to try. I don’t have any other answer for what I did, Your Honor.”
Shana seemed oblivious to everyone then, eyes fixed steadily above the spectators.
Raising his head, the judge glanced inquiringly at the defense table. Davic responded with a quick, negative headshake.
Flood tapped his gavel. Softly. “The court will hear closing statements tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. Court is adjourned until that time.”
In her office Brett turned on the burner under a Silex of water and set out coffee cups and bowls of sugar and cream. Traffic noises in the mall were muted. The lights of the city gleamed beyond the windows.
Shana sat in the chair at Brett’s desk, her legs curled under her. They knew from Burt Wilger’s report that her father had planned to return from St. Anne’s Hospital to East Chester that afternoon. They had no other news until Shana called home and learned that he had talked twice to Mrs. Cranston, leaving messages of support for his daughter but no further information.
Brett said, “I know you’re worried about him, and so am I. But let’s concentrate on our job. I want to point out something about Davic’s cross-examination that you may have missed. A lawyer seldom asks a witness a question unless he himself knows the answer to it. Or is prepared for whatever answer he gets. Which brings me to this... how did Davic know you’d phoned Earl Thomson? He was certain you had, no doubt about that. So please, Shana, try to remember if you mentioned it to anyone except me or your father.”
“Honestly, I didn’t. Not even to Normie.”
“One call was from the phone in your bedroom, the other from a pay phone, right?”
“You know all that.”
“Please be patient with me. I can’t emphasize how important this is. Think hard. Did you say anything to Davey about it? It would be natural enough if you did, he’s your brother.”
“But I didn’t tell anybody.”
“All right. But is there any chance he overheard you calling Earl Thomson?”
“I’m sure he didn’t. My bedroom door was closed, and I was talking very quietly. Why is it so terribly important?”
“Because Davic knew you’d called Thomson. He knew in substance what you said to him. Otherwise he’d never have risked that line of questions.”
“Mr. Davic overheard the conversation, is that it?”
“Someone did, Shana. There was, probably still is, a tap on the phones at your house. Whoever installed the tap, well, they could have cut into a terminal on a telephone pole a mile away, or sent someone around in a gas or electric company uniform to check the line. Picked a time when the family was away and told Mrs. Cranston it was a routine service inspection in the basement or attic.”