Scott Pratt - Injustice for all

I drop my head into my hands, certain that this is a preamble to a decision that only he can rationalize. I’ve already considered what I’ll do if he rules against me, and I resign myself to the fact that this battle will be fought elsewhere.

“However,” Green continues, “a judge must occasionally make a ruling that is not popular. He must do what’s right under the law. He must protect the very foundation of our laws and our government, the Constitution of the United States of America.”

He’s making dramatic pauses while he speaks. I want to throw up.

“I hope those who read about this in the newspaper tomorrow morning or watch it on the evening news will understand that this ruling is for all of you. It will protect you from future illegal intrusions into your privacy. There is no doubt in this court’s mind that the state’s primary witness in this case, Mr. David Dillinger, was acting as an agent of the government when he hacked into the defendant’s computer. Mr. Dillinger has testified that he was abused as a child by someone he believes was a pedophile, and that he has undertaken a mission to see that other pedophiles are exposed and brought to justice. In order to accomplish his mission, Mr. Dillinger intrudes on the privacy of other citizens by clandestinely hacking into their computers with the intent to have them prosecuted under the criminal laws of this country. The court finds that the fact that the governmental agencies involved in this particular case were unaware of Mr. Dillinger’s activities is irrelevant. At the very core of it, Mr. Dillinger is a wannabe police officer, a ‘cyber vigilante,’ as Mr. Kay so adroitly pointed out. Mr. Dillinger obviously regards himself as a sort of charitable mercenary, working on behalf of the government without the expectation of compensation or recognition, but in reality, he’s no different than a common burglar. Instead of stealing jewelry, he steals information, and he does so by secretly invading the privacy of his victims’ computers. He then expects his targets to be prosecuted, which in this court’s view, makes him an agent of the government. His warrant-less search of Mr. Carver’s computer was illegal, and any evidence obtained as a result of that search is hereby suppressed.”

Kay stands. I’m sure he wants to get out of the courtroom as quickly as possible. I also stand and turn to look at Dillinger. I want to apologize to him on behalf of the state of Tennessee, on behalf of the entire U.S. criminal justice system. But he’s already out of his seat, heading for the door. He slams it as he leaves, and the bang rips through the courtroom like a gunshot.

“Bailiff!” Judge Green shouts. “Stop that man and bring him back here.”

I fix a stare on the judge as the bailiff hurries out the door. I hear shouting in the hallway. Thirty seconds later, the bailiff walks back through the door, holding Dillinger by the elbow. The look in Dillinger’s eyes is one of fear and humiliation.

“Bring him to the lectern,” the judge says.

Dillinger stands before Judge Green, looking down at the lectern.

“You’re in contempt, Mr. Dillinger. Your punishment is a hundred-dollar fine, payable in the clerk’s office before you leave the building. If you don’t pay it, I’ll have you arrested and jailed. Go back to Canada where you belong, sir. The Canadian government may allow you to invade the privacy of others to your heart’s content, but this is the United States of America. We don’t tolerate such behavior.”

Dillinger’s shoulders drop, and he walks out of the courtroom like a condemned man. As soon as he leaves, I speak up.

“In light of your ruling, Judge, the state moves to dismiss the indictment against Mr. Carver.”

“Really, Mr. Dillard? You mean you don’t plan to appeal?”

He’s smug. He knows an appeal will take two years. Even if his ruling were reversed-and I feel certain it would be-so many things can happen in two years. Evidence is lost. Witnesses die or move away. They become uncooperative. After what Dillinger’s been through today, I’m certain he won’t return in two years.

“No, Judge. I’m not going to appeal.”

“Very well. Case dismissed. Costs taxed to the state. Mr. Carver, you’re free to go.”

Katie Dean spent two months in the hospital after she was nearly murdered by her father. The blast entered the right side of her chest, smashed her sternum and several ribs, and blew out a large part of her right lung. She didn’t remember what had happened for at least two weeks after the shooting. There was only blackness-a vast hole in her life. She didn’t even remember dreaming.

When she had finally healed enough to leave the hospital, Katie’s aunt Mary took her to the cemetery. It was mid-October 1992. The weather had turned cold, the wind was howling in off Lake Michigan, and leaves were falling from the trees and swirling in the air like giant, colored snowflakes. Katie’s mother, along with Katie’s brothers and sister, were buried side by side. She knelt and laid fresh cut flowers in front of the headstone that marked her mother’s grave, and she wept so hard her stomach cramped. She couldn’t believe she’d never see them again. She couldn’t believe what Father had done. She wished he’d killed her, too.

Father’s grave wasn’t there. Aunt Mary said he’d been placed in another cemetery. Katie didn’t ask where it was. Mother always said he was sick, but Katie couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive him for what he did.

Aunt Mary was Mother’s older sister, and she bore a striking resemblance. She was slender, not very tall, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a kind face. She looked tired most of the time, as though she never got enough sleep. Mother had taken Katie and her brothers and sister to Tennessee to visit Aunt Mary once, not long after Aunt Mary’s husband was killed in a logging accident. She lived in a farmhouse at the base of a mountain near a place called Gatlinburg. Katie was just a little girl, but she remembered they went there late in May, right after Kirk and Kiri got out of school for the summer. Aunt Mary was pregnant.

It was the first time Katie had ever seen the Great Smoky Mountains and the purple haze that hung over them in the evening. They were so beautiful. She would go out onto the front porch in the evening and sit for hours, just looking up at the massive humps and gentle slopes shrouded in mist. Sometimes after dark the mountains would sparkle with tiny lights, as though thousands of fairies were flying among the leaves on the trees. The image made her think of magic kingdoms, filled with wonder and mystery.

Aunt Mary took Katie back to her farmhouse in Tennessee the day after she visited her family’s grave sites. Katie supposed Aunt Mary was the only person in the family who wanted her. Father’s parents had both died of cancer before Katie was born. Mother’s mother died of an aneurysm in her lung when Katie was nine. Her grandpa Patrick was still alive, but he’d married another woman and was living in Oregon.

Katie was sitting in the front seat beside Aunt Mary in the car on the way to her house. They crossed into Tennessee near a town called Jellico. Rain was beating against the windshield, and the tires on the tractor trailers were throwing up huge plumes of water like geysers. Darkness was falling.

“Katie,” Aunt Mary said, “we don’t have much, but what we have is yours. You’re my daughter now.”

Katie scooted over and buried her face in Aunt Mary’s shoulder. She started to cry.

“There, there now,” Aunt Mary said. “Everything’s going to be all right. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, child, but you have to keep on going. God chose you to go on living. He chose you, Katie, and for a reason. We don’t know what His reason is yet, but you have to be strong. It’s what God wants, and it’s what your momma would have wanted.”