Don Gutteridge - Minor Corruption

Robert, however, was not as pleased as hispupil. He and Marc sat alone in Robert’s chamber over theirluncheon, discussing the morning’s proceedings. Neither had donemore than poke his food about his plate.

“So I’m ready for Jake Broom,” Marc wassaying, “and whatever Neville Cambridge can toss at me. I’m feelingcautiously optimistic. We’re unravelling Cobb’s meticulouslyknitted skein of events, stitch by stitch.”

“You were nothing short of brilliant, Marc.Bob and I have taught you well. Perhaps too well.”

Marc was taken aback. “How so?”

“I don’t quite know how to say it tactfully,so I’ll just say it straight out. It is no victory for any of us ifit is won in the manner you’ve chosen to do it in. I say thatknowing full well you have no other option.”

“I don’t understand.”

Robert reached for a macaroon, found the bowlempty, and said solemnly, “Marc, you and I have been through thewars literally and figuratively. What we have been fighting for isa government responsible to those who elected them freely andhonestly.”

“So we have.” Marc was used to Robert’soccasional lapses into melancholy or high seriousness, in which theweight of the world seemed to press down upon his sturdy frame, buthe was not a little alarmed at the demeanour of his good friend asthey sat here in quiet conversation. That he himself was beingcriticized seemed almost beside the point. “And we’re going to winin the end,” he said.

“Yes, but not at any cost. You must realizethat the people we are fighting for – on whose behalf we arecrusading – are the Joe Mullins and Sol Clifts and Burton Thurgoodsof this world. It is those without a voice for whom we seek avoice, and for whom we set ourselves up as models of what ourshared future may be about . How we go about winning is asimportant as what we win. And in that courtroom today, wehave represented a cross-section of our current society. They arewatching and judging all.”

“You feel I went too far in suggestingMullins and Clift were possible rapists?”

“My God, Marc, you don’t really believe thateither of them did it, do you? Mullins has the freckled face of ayoungster, one that melted the jury’s heart instantly.”

“What I think in that regard is irrelevant,is it not?” Marc replied. “You have indeed taught me well. My taskis to defend your innocent uncle against this ghastlycharge. Surely I am free to use all the instruments allowed me bythe court and our legal tradition? To do less would be to break myoath as a barrister.”

“That’s true, I know. But step back a momentand look at the situation. If you get an acquittal by haranguingand insinuating malfeasance against ordinary citizens just doingtheir civic duty, what good will it do us? We’ll be seen in thesame light as the Family Compact, who manipulate and manoeuvre thelaw for their own benefit, not society’s. It will be a Phyrrhicvictory.”

“But your uncle’s life is at stake, Robert.You saw him in the dock today. He couldn’t stand without the aid ofa bailiff. How long would he last in prison? A week? We’re dealinghere with a question of life and death.”

“I know. And it is near to destroying me, oldfriend. But I can’t forget what my father taught me. None of us isabove the law, and the law itself must be preserved, whatever thehuman cost.”

But how am I to do that , Marc sighed, and save Uncle Seamus ?

Marc left chambers without resolving the matterbetween him and Robert, and returned to the Court House, determinedto do his duty. In the courtroom, the Crown’s eye-witness was, atlast, ready to testify. With several hundred eyes upon him,expectant and judging, Jake Broom began to sweat, even as he wasbeing sworn in. While stocky and heavy-jawed, Broom resembled anovergrown kid more than he did a twenty-year-old. His large roundeyes gazed at the world with unflinching innocence, matching hisbeardless chin and wispy brown hair.

Neville Cambridge began gently. “Just tell usin your own words what happened on August the third, starting fromthe moment you left the office at twelve-fifty or thereabouts.”

Broom had a strong, deep voice, but appearedto be holding it in check, as if it might overwhelm him or thecourtroom. “Yes, sir. A few minutes after Mr. Whittle and Burtonleft to repair the sluice and Joe went out fer a smoke, I finishedmy lunch. I looked up at the clock. It said ten minutes to one. Itold Sol I thought I ought to go and take a look at Ginger, ourhorse that had the heaves. He said, ‘Take yer time.’ I went backthrough the mill, through the flour room where we’d been baggin’flour after cleanin’ up the mornin’ spill, and out through the backdoor. There’s a direct path to the barn from there. I went into thebarn through the door on the southwest corner and walked along thestalls till I came to Ginger.”

“Your sick horse?”

“Yes. Beside her stall was Blackie, thelittle pony that Betsy often come out to see.”

“But you yourself did not see Betsy turnnorth towards the barn that day?”

“No. I couldn’t see outside the officewindow. I figured she’d gone straight to Spadina.”

“Please continue.”

“Ginger was doin’ fine. I gave her a goodstrokin’, then fer some reason I can’t remember I decided tostretch my legs by walkin’ back to the mill the long way – out theback door and around the barn. I got to the back doors. Both of ‘emwere open. I stood there fer a second, just enjoyin’ the warm sun,when I heard a rustlin’ noise. I knew the stall facin’ the doorssome ways away was empty, so I figured it might be a rat. So Iturned and had a look.”

Jake paused and took several gulpingbreaths.

“Take your time, young man. We know how hardthis must be for you.”

“I’m all right, sir, I can do this.”

“Good lad.”

“What I saw first was just a tangle of armsand legs and bare skin.”

At this, the jurors and everyone in the roomexcept the defendant eased forward.

“I blinked, and then I saw it was a man ontop of a girl, doin’ . . . doin’ – ”

“They were engaged in sexual union?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Embarrassing as it may be, Mr. Broom, I wantyou to tell the court exactly what you observed. Leave nothingout.”

Broom wiped his brow with his sleeve. “I seena man’s buttocks goin’ up and down.”

A woman in the galleries cried outinvoluntarily. The judge glowered.

“Did you get an impression of this man? Hissize? His age? His colouring?”

“I thought he couldn’t be young. The legsseemed a bit scrawny. The skin, what I could see of it, lookedquite pale.”

“Were the arms tanned?”

“I couldn’t really see them too good,sir.”

“Tall or short?”

“I’m sure he was short. Certainly nottall.”

“He was naked, then? Did you see his clothesanywhere about?”

“He hadn’t a stitch on that I could see. Buthis clothes must’ve been lyin’ in the straw, ‘cause I didn’t seeany.”

“In your statement to the police, youdescribed another prominent feature of the rapist’s anatomy.”

Marc stirred, but did not rise to thebait.

“I did. As the head bobbed up and down, Icouldn’t see the face, but all around the head was a great bush ofwhitish-grey hair, big as a halo.”

All eyes followed Broom’s up to the gentlemanin the dock – elderly and short, with a huge spray of whitish-greyhair.

“Do you know anyone fitting the descriptionyou’ve just given us?”

“I do. And I thought so at the time. I wascertain it could only be Mr. Seamus Baldwin.”

Following as it did the communal gaze up atthe dock, this bombshell was close to a dud, but it seemed to sealthe old man’s fate nonetheless.