Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Someone to Watch Over Me

A thick, heavy layer of snow covered the car and the slush underfoot made it difficult for her to stand close enough to be able to clear it off properly. This made her hand motions clumsy and Thóra was more or less covered with snow when she finally got behind the wheel and drove off. Along the way, ill-equipped cars caused endless delays as they spun their wheels and slid back and forth across the road while irritated drivers honked their horns.

Thóra decided not to join in the horn concerto and instead took the opportunity to call home and speak briefly to Matthew. He turned out to be on his way out for a run, which he did every day of the week except Sunday, whatever the weather. Thóra found this totally incomprehensible – the only time she might consider running would be away from a crazed murderer, in the unlikely event that one was after her. She hadn’t said as much to Matthew, however, since it seemed so important to him. She simply smiled to herself every time he suggested that she come with him, although her smile had faded somewhat when he gave her a pair of top-quality running shoes as a Christmas present. For the moment she could still use the weather as justification, but when spring came, the fear of breaking her leg on the ice would no longer be a viable excuse; instead she would have to admit that she had no interest in unnecessary physical labour or else come up with some other reason. She hadn’t been able to think of anything better than an allergy to bees, but it was still a long time until spring and she might come up with more credible ideas as the days got slowly longer. Thankfully, she didn’t need to go to the gym to keep her figure trim; she was slim by nature as well as tall, which meant that the extra kilos that occasionally came – and went, without any special effort – distributed themselves quite easily over her frame without being too noticeable.

She was very close to being late. When she finally pulled up in the car park, which was half buried in snow, her mind drifted to what Matthew had said before hanging up: that she should proceed carefully with her questions about the home. He hadn’t wanted to elaborate other than to say that handicaps and illnesses were sensitive topics and it was easy to hurt people, even if no harm were meant. He said that he suspected that those who took care of disabled individuals were even more sensitive to the way things were phrased than the individuals themselves. This did nothing to improve Thóra’s feelings of uncertainty on precisely this subject; despite having read through the case’s countless documents, she realized how poorly informed she still was about which terms were considered inappropriate when referring to the former inhabitants of the community residence and their circumstances. Despite Matthew’s warnings, she was relieved to speak first to a woman who had no blood connection to the residents; it was less likely that Thóra would offend her than a family member. Perhaps she could learn from this conversation and take in concepts and terminology that were thought appropriate. But she wouldn’t be able to avoid speaking to the relatives of the dead residents – if, in fact, they were willing to meet her – because most other sources of information about the centre had burned to ashes. They were under no obligation to speak to her, of course, and the fact that her client was the man whom they believed to be responsible for the deaths of their children didn’t exactly go in her favour. She didn’t need to go offending people with inappropriate comments on top of all that.

After clambering out of her tilted car, which was partly perched on a snowdrift, Thóra hurried inside. There a young woman received her very warmly; she was the complete opposite of Bella, and told her that the wait would be brief. Shortly afterwards, the same smiling girl announced to her that Glódís was available. She directed Thóra in and in a moment Thóra was seated in a chair in the woman’s extremely unassuming office.

‘My schedule has opened up a bit so we’re not quite so pressed for time.’ As she spoke, Glódís removed some completed application forms from her desk and stuck them in a folder. ‘The people that I was expecting cancelled their appointment. It happens often when the roads are like this. Which means, of course, that I’ll be absolutely swamped when the weather improves again, but there’s nothing we can do about that.’ The woman was about the same age as Thóra, but was even more tired-looking than Thóra considered herself to be. Her two-toned, off-blonde hair with black roots did little for her puffy, excessively made-up face. Overall, she looked like one of those women who’d been the prettiest girl in her class as a teenager, before the unkind ravages of time had set in. ‘So, how can I help you? You said that you were working for Jakob. I don’t quite know what I can do, exactly; my acquaintance with him was rather limited, as you know.’

Thóra nodded. ‘I was asked to investigate the case thoroughly, since there seems to be some doubt that Jakob was involved. I’m gathering evidence and information with a view to the case possibly being reopened by the Supreme Court.’

The woman’s expression hardened and she struggled to keep her tone pleasant. ‘What do you mean? What sort of doubt?’

Thóra decided not to tell Glódís who had instigated the new investigation. She knew that if she mentioned the paedophile, their conversation would be finished. So she worded it as vaguely as she could. ‘After reviewing the testimonies and other matters related to the verdict in the case, it appears to me that it was poorly prosecuted. It’s also possible that Jakob’s disability wasn’t fully taken into account. He appears to have been rather erratic throughout his testimony, probably not comprehending the seriousness of the case.’

‘All of the protocols were followed to the letter.’ Glódís’s lips had thinned disapprovingly. ‘The police sought our advice and we sent them a developmental therapist who assisted in the interrogations and everything relating to Jakob’s special circumstances. I don’t believe that it could have been handled any better.’

‘Maybe not; but nonetheless, the doubts that I mentioned do exist. It may well be that later on it will become clear that everything was concluded precisely as it should have been, but until then I must acquaint myself to the best of my ability with everything that might suggest the existence of reasonable doubt concerning Jakob’s guilt.’

‘I don’t see why.’ The woman was obviously offended and made no attempt to conceal it. ‘Jakob started the fire and killed those people. He has the intellectual maturity of a child, which means it isn’t possible to blame him for malicious intent, but he still should have known better and not done it. People with disabilities are not exempt from the obligations that human society lays on our shoulders, nor do they wish to be exempt. They want to live their lives on an equal footing with the rest of us, and they should be bound by the laws of our country.’

‘Then have you formed an opinion as to why he did this? Had he displayed violent tendencies before, or other behaviour to suggest that he was dangerous?’ Thóra was very keen to avoid allowing the conversation to get too general. If she allowed it to stray off the main subject, it would deteriorate into a monologue on the woman’s pet topics, which were of little interest to Thóra.

‘He wasn’t outwardly violent, perhaps, but he was angry and scared and completely opposed to any changes in his circumstances. Almost all the other residents were delighted with the care they received, but he was the odd one out.’

‘It’s my understanding that his mother was completely opposed to him moving there. Maybe that was the reason for his unhappiness?’ Perhaps there was more to it; something that Jakob’s mother didn’t know or wished to hide. ‘Yes, true. He was unhappy about having to move but he wasn’t given the chance to express his opinion. In the end he would have been just as satisfied as the others, once he realized how much better it was to be out from under the protective wing of his mother.’