Scott Turow - The Burden of Proof

"Did you tell Clara that?"

"She was a bright lady. She knew what the risks were.

She was scared to death for all of them."

"And so?"

"And so what?"

"How did your conversation end, Dixon?"

"Oh, I don't know. The other reason she'd come was because of her medical condition. She wanted me to know that she might have to let you know the score. I mean, she wasn't worried for my sake-she was concerned Silvia would find out. Prayway, after she got through that, she put on this very composed look and said, 'Dixon, I am really not certain that I am able to carry on." It was the scariest fucking moment of my life. I didn't have to ask what she was talking about."

"And how did you respond?"

"How the fuck do you think I responded? I begged her not to do it. For about half an hour. I gave her every reason I could think of. She kept talking about the children. Peter and Kate. And john. And you. A lot about you. She was completely unglued. You know, I tried to reassure her. I told her Peter and Kate and John would be okay," said Dixon ."But what could I really say to convince her of that?" He shrugged. "So I promised."

It was like everything else. Everything else. Like forms in the clouds. He had seen it but never made out the shape.

"You promised Clara," said Stern, "that you would stand mute when accused and accept the blame."

Dixon, on the sofa, let his arm dangle down. He flicked his ashes toward the ashtray and missed by a considerable margin. He sat up then and ground the heels of his palms against both eyes.

"May I ask why, Dixon?"

"I just told you why. Because I owed it to her. Look, I'm not you, Stern. I'm not wise or good. I can't help what I do. I can only be sorry afterwards. That's the story of my life. But I clean up my own messes." They sat together for some time.

"I release you, Dixon."

"What?" ,"I release you from this bargain. It was truly valorous.

You were dealing for Clara's life, but in spite of your brave efforts, you failed. You may be released." Dixon shook his head. "I promised her."

"Dixon."

"I promised."

"I cannot permit this, Dixon."

"I didn't ask for your permission."

"I have thought. about this at length, Dixon. I believe that John and Peter must be allowed to play their hands.

Speak up. Hire another lawyer and through him tell the truth. See if the prosecutors end up confounded, as Peter calculated they would."

"And what happens if Sennett gets hit by lightning and actually believes me? If he tums on those two, it'll make what he's planning for me look like a party game."

Stern allowed his shoulders to move-his weary, mystical, foreign look.

There were no words.

"Listen," said Dixon, "I've held my breath all the way along. I've hoped for months that those creeps would drop the ball over there. Fuck things up, or lose interest, or have doubts. But I won't play it that way. John will never make it. I've seen him when someone tums up the bright lights. In a courtroom, or with somebody really banging away at him, he'll fold. You mark my words. And he'll t,ace Peter down with him. Maybe even Kate."

Dixon was correct.-no question of that. He had thought this out carefully. John would be wearing wires on the entire family by the time Sennett was through with him. "That was the risk Peter chose, Dixon."

"Oh, screw that. They' re children."

Stern sat down on the sofa beside him. With a single finger, he actually touched Dixon's hand.

"Dixon, I understand your object. I recognize that you are attempting to settle accounts with me-that you wish to see the rest of my family remain intact. But I absolve you."

Dixon glared at him, rankled-no, more: outraged. "Can't you just show some fucking gratitude and shut up?" He got to his feet. "I'm pleading guilty, Stern. And I want you to arrange it."

"I shall not."

"Don't give me that 'shall not' crap. This is the right thing."

"It is a fraud, Dixon.".

"Oh, stow it, Stern. Don't start boasting with me about your honor.

I've known you too long. You've whored around plenty for reasons worse than this. I'm talking about your children."

"Yes. You think you're the only one in this family with the right to be noble?"

"Silvia-"

"Silvia will be fine. She'll have you to take care of her.

She'll see me on the weekends. You'll get me into some country club.

I'll do that time standing on my head.", Dixon's 'primary talents were still in the arena of sales.

Pacing here, he had taken on his urgent salesman's bearing.

It was all bluster-Stern knew that. Dixon's haggard look and fitful nights were not due to the welcome prospect of country-club living. But Dixon had once been a soldier. He knew that courage was not the absence of fear but the ability to carry on with dignity in spite of it. At this instant he was oddly reminiscent of the young man Stern had met, with. his strong chin and wavy brass-toned hair, wearing his uniform like a trophy andWilling himself to glory-a perfect specimen of what Stern then believed to be the most enviable species on the planet, a true American.

'Dixon, it is wrong."

"Oh, fuck principle, Stern. Fuck your honor! Don't you understand, you sanctimonious asshole, that this was exactly why she was afraid to come to you?" In great heat, Dixon smote the desk once with his fist. The glass broke through with an odd tone-a clear snap and a whiny ringing.

Both men moved at once. Stern rushed to his own side and, like Dixon, held the two pieces together. Along the Crack, one edge was now barely below the other. The heaps of papers had tumbled and Stern's cigar had jumped out 6f the ashtray and lay in the cleft, still bum'ing.

"Will it fall?" Dixon asked.

Stern was not certain He finally swiveled his desk chair about and propped it beneath the separated halves. Slowly, Dixon removed his hands. The desk sagged barely, perceptibly, but moved no farther.

It required a second for Stern to recollect where they had been. The hammer fall of Dixon'sobservation had been lost in the commotion; for the moment, he was saved. He knew that Dixon had pondered this matter at length and was onc more correct. Clara had doubted her husband's pragmatism, his willingness to yield his scruples, especially in a contest with his son. For the tune being, however, he could put that thought aside; the suffering would come later, when he was alone. Right now, he felt a different curiosity, one that had arisen yesterday, with a ramark of Peter's.

"Why am I your lawyer, Dixon? Now. In this matter?"

"Where else would I go? And besides, you might have thought something was up if I hired a different attorney."

"But you say you feared my principles."

"You weren't going to find out.".

"Is that why you left the safe with me for s6 long?"

"It was locked."

"Nevertheless."

"Listen, you scared the shit out of me with that song-anddance about search warrants. I believed you. I thought it was the best place for it."

"But you did not even take the precaution of destroying the check Clara had brought you."

"How could I? I figured the bankers would go look for it.

Or the lawyer for the estate. I had my whole routine planned when they got here: 'She wanted to open a new investment account for the kids, died before we finished the papers, boy, am I glad to see you, sign right here."

"Dixon smiled at himself.

"Yet you must have recognized some risk that I might piece it together?"

Dixon leaned over the broken desktop.

"They're your children, Stern. You may give me all your high-minded advice about turning them in, but I don't see you banging down the prosecutor's door. You'd never do it."

Dixon, with his canny, handsome face, his weary eyes, regarded his brother-in-law. "You'll do what I want. You've got to."