Дуглас Престон - Jennie

When we arrived, Bill Russo was just getting into his car to go down to the hospital. He was all red and just furious that this chimpanzee had gotten the better of him. He said that Jennie should be destroyed and that Sandy was a menace to society and what was the matter, did his barber die or something? Or was he trying to be one of these hippie radicals who wanted to make America Communist? Why, he said, if his kid grew his hair like that he’d show him the raw side of a belt. Imagine. He spoke like that to me. Well! I told Bill Russo that what he just said was slander plain and simple and that one more word out of his big fat mouth and I’d see him in court. He said that we’d be in court first for raising a vicious ape that nearly tore his leg off. My goodness! I was so angry.

When we got inside, Jennie was raising cain, screeching and banging on the bars. You couldn’t hear a thing it was so loud. Hugo went to the cells — there were just three little rooms down the hall — and told Jennie to shut up and she did. We had to pay bail for Sandy, and the dogcatcher gave us a citation. He said we’d have to go to court. In the meantime, he said, he would have to take Jennie down to the pound.

Hugo was magnificent. Very cool and patient. He. explained to the man who Jennie was, what she was, and why it was impossible to even think of putting her in the pound. He dropped hints about Jennie’s strength and how she could escape from any cage made for an animal. He frightened the poor man half to death. He said, well, under the circumstances it would be acceptable if Jennie were kept at home, fully restrained at all times, until the court date. If she bit anyone else, well, that would be a very serious matter indeed.

We drove home in silence. Hugo was angry. So was I, for that matter. Sandy and Jennie were both subdued; I guess they knew they were in big trouble. Hugo said to Sandy: Come up to my office. He signed to Jennie: Bad Jennie, go to bathroom .

Jennie pretended not to react, but as soon as the car doors opened she jumped and hid in the garage. Hugo was madder than ever and shut the garage door, and made Jennie spend an hour in there. It was cold in there, and all she had was her Donald Duck T-shirt and pants.

Sandy spent quite a few weekends shoveling snow to earn money for his fine. Then the judge took away his learner’s permit and he wasn’t allowed to drive until he turned sixteen and a half.

Jennie’s hearing was a more serious matter. You see, the town really did have the right to destroy her. Kibbencook had very strict animal control laws, and a dog that bit someone and drew blood was required to be destroyed. First time; no second chances.

Hugo actually hired a lawyer, he was that concerned. Of course, we would never have given Jennie up. We would have moved away if it came to that.

The lawyer Hugo got was magnificent. His name was Alterman. Arthur Alterman. He cost a hundred dollars an hour, but he was worth every penny.

It was a very funny trial. There was nothing in the history of jurisprudence like it. It wasn’t a real trial, though. Just a hearing. There was no “prosecutor,” just an administrative law judge running things, a little Italian fellow named Fiorello. Even so, the end result could have been horrible. It was a capital case.

Russo testified, and his partner. And then the dogcatcher, all sweating and red-faced, gave his little song and dance. Then Alterman got up and put Jennie on the stand.

I noticed that there was a young reporter in the hearing room, sleeping in the back. When Jennie came in he woke up right away. He was falling all over himself looking for a pencil and taking notes and getting on the telephone trying to get a court artist down.

Alterman had hired a professional ASL interpreter from the Somerville School for the Deaf. Her credentials were impeccable. She was terrific and we had very carefully coached Jennie and rehearsed her testimony. For days on end we rehearsed what Jennie was to say. If she were human I am sure it would have been illegal, coaching the witness the way we did.

Alterman didn’t put Jennie on the stand for her testimony alone. He explained it all to us. The minute the judge saw Jennie in her little blue suit with the big red bow, and saw her signing back and forth with the interpreter, he would never, ever, in a thousand years, find her a menace to society and order her destroyed. How could he? She was just like a little person!

The interpreter led Jennie and Hugo up to the stand and the two sat there together, since somebody needed to control Jennie if something happened. God forbid that she should bite the judge or a lawyer!

Alterman was marvelous. He was a showman. He explained that the witness couldn’t swear on the Bible because she wasn’t a Christian. There was a big laugh at that one. If Rev. Palliser had been there I’m sure he would have taken exception! The judge explained to the court, I suppose for the record, that Jennie’s testimony was meaningless to determine the facts of the case, but that he was allowing it anyway. The judge wanted to see the signing chimpanzee in action.

So Jennie was installed in the witness stand. She looked so funny, sitting in that big oak chair with her little feet sticking out, looking around with the utmost interest. Her little black eyes were just twinkling. I wish you could have been there. She looked so small and helpless in this grand room with the flags and oak paneling and the judge in his robes. Let me see if I can remember how it went. Do you want me to demonstrate the signing again? It’s surprising how little I’ve forgotten, really. I suppose it’s like riding a bicycle.

[Editor’s note: At this point Mrs. Archibald stood up and as she described the questions, she demonstrated the signs at the same time.]

Mr. Alterman spoke to the interpreter only. He said to ask Jennie — he called her “the witness,” — what happened on the afternoon of February such-and-such 1973. So the woman signed to Jennie, What happen? When Jennie replied she would immediately translate.

Jennie of course immediately demanded an apple or something. Apple! Give apple! Right away she was off the script. My heart just sank. But the interpreter was required to translate everything.

Well! The judge banged his gavel and assumed a very serious face, and said, “No eating in the courtroom.” And everyone laughed. I was so relieved. I knew at that moment that we were going to win the case. The judge was already having a wonderful time. But then he said, “Tell the witness to respond to the question.”

So the interpreter signed: Jennie, no apple. Later. What happen? And Jennie signed back, Hurt .

Who? signed the interpreter. Who hurt?

Man , Jennie signed.

Where man? asked the interpreter.

Jennie kept saying Man, man!

The interpreter asked her to point to the man several times, and finally Jennie pointed right to Officer Russo.

At this point Mr. Alterman thundered: “Let the record show that the witness has identified Officer William H. Russo!” It was so thrilling. Now I hate to admit this, but we’d rehearsed for days with Jennie using a blown-up photograph of Russo that Mr. Alterman had managed to find, I don’t know where. Every single question had been rehearsed a dozen times.

Well! When Jennie pointed to Russo, a great Ahhhhh! went up in the courtroom and I could see the reporter scribbling away as if his life depended on it. I suppose for him it was the scoop of a lifetime. Here he’d probably been sitting around for months doing the Kibbencook courthouse “beat,” and seeing nothing more interesting than a drunk driver. And now, isn’t it funny, but I wonder if Mr. Alterman didn’t have something to do with getting that reporter into the courtroom? I hadn’t thought about that before, but this case made Mr. Alterman famous. He was in Time magazine even.