A Yi - A Perfect Crime

The judge knocked his gavel. ‘Bring in the defendant.’

The metal door was pulled open and an officer took me by the arm. As if on a gust of wind, I was announced. My spirit gave way. I stood and shook my handcuffs to show my displeasure. My lawyer asked for the handcuffs to be removed, but the prosecutor objected vociferously, arguing I was a danger to the court.

Fewer than ten people were seated in the public gallery, curious spectators for the most part. One woman looked at me with poison in her eyes. She wore a black dress and a discreetly patterned scarf draped over her shoulders. She had tied a black ribbon around her arm. She looked like a lanky crow. Her skin hung loose around her face like drying noodles, the ravages of age. She pursed her lips and her nostrils flared, like a kettle ready to pop its lid. I wondered how such an ugly woman could have given birth to Kong Jie, but as Qian Zhongshu once wrote: ‘Just because you liked the egg doesn’t mean it is wise to go looking for the chicken.’ Before the hearing could begin the judge asked a series of meaningless questions, like my name, date of birth, ethnicity, previous criminal record, the date I had received the indictment. Finally he announced that it would be a closed trial, to respect the victim’s privacy. She’s dead, I thought, what privacy? He then read out a list of names and, when called, each person stood up, nodded or mmed. He then read my rights and asked if anyone should be removed from the court.

‘Yes, everyone,’ I said.

‘Your reason?’

But I couldn’t think of anything. ‘Fine, let them stay.’ The public prosecutor then read aloud the indictment, as procedure dictated. He emphasised certain key words for effect, adding spices to his pot. But all things considered, he worked in an orderly fashion. Then Kong Jie’s mother read out a civil indictment. Her hands shook and she made many mistakes. She wanted me to pay three hundred and twenty thousand yuan in damages.

Asking for money seemed a bit hypocritical, like she was trying to make money out of her daughter’s death. It muddied her calls for justice. She seemed aware of it too, and so added, ‘I want to make you bankrupt, that’s all. I won’t keep a cent of it. I’ll give it all away.’

Make me bankrupt?

The judge asked for my response.

‘I have to respond?’

‘What is your reaction to the indictments?’

‘No reaction. It’s all true.’

My lawyer tapped at his table as if to ask why I wasn’t defending myself, but he didn’t say anything. The judge then signalled to the prosecutor to begin.

He began by confirming some more basic facts. Then, ‘I have no more questions, it all seems very clear.’

The judge looked over and by mistake caught the eye of Kong Jie’s mother, who took it as permission to stand up.

‘Why did you kill my daughter?’

I kept my head high and said nothing.

She was shaking, her voice loud like a gale blowing over a sheet of metal. Then she groaned and sat back down. An awkward silence filled the court and those in uniform whispered to each other.

Someone needed to break the silence, so I raised my hand. The lawyer finally remembered he was on my side and signalled to the judge, who let me speak.

‘Can I sit?’

My question disturbed the viewing gallery, as if this was my primary sin. The judge thumped his gavel, but didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure if that was a yes, but then I thought, they’re going to kill me anyway, so I plonked by butt back down on the seat. But no one cared, because the prosecutor was busy calling in the medical examiner. She was old and dressed in a white coat, her features like dead tree roots. She should have read clinically from her appraisal, giving details about how many stab wounds Kong Jie had suffered, that she died of acute blood loss trauma and so on. But the tears pumped and she kept tainting her account with ‘the child’ this, ‘the child’ that. Everything was covered in blood, the floor, the walls, the door, the window. It was horrifying. Especially the bit where I put her in the washing machine. ‘Head first. The blood filled it half full.’ Kong Jie’s mother had been listening, wiping tears and nodding. At this point I watched her faint.

The morning’s proceedings finished there. In the afternoon people tried to stop Kong Jie’s mother from entering the courtroom, but she forced her way in and back to her seat. She sat watching me, hate radiating from her eyes. Suddenly, she spat at me. I spat back.

The first witness called in the afternoon was the policeman responsible for the case.

‘When did you arrive at the scene?’

‘The morning after.’

Kong Jie’s mother stood up and pointed. ‘When did you get the call?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Well, I am. I reported her missing the evening before.’ The gavel echoed around the court, but she merely spoke louder.

‘I must tell the court. I rang at 6.00 the same evening, but they told me to wait twenty-four hours before reporting her missing. “Ninety-nine per cent of cases are resolved by the following morning,” they said. I told them, “my daughter is a good girl, she would never run away.” “Are you done?” they said. “Do you know how many cases we have to handle every day? Do you know how many officers we have? You’re wasting our time.” Isn’t that what you said? You then said, “It’s not that we don’t want to take the call, but this is the law. We do as the law dictates.”’

She blew her nose with her fingers, wiped it on her sleeve and continued.

‘I want to ask the ladies and gentlemen present if such a law exists? You are the experts. Tell me: is there such a law?’

The judge indicated to the prosecutor to continue. But she broke in.

‘I trusted you. But I went to the law school and asked them. The teachers there are better than you lot. One of the professors helped me call some of my daughter’s classmates. There was a boy named Su. He liked my girl. His phone was switched off. We spent the night looking for him, but by the time we found him the next day the sun was coming up. Him. My daughter’s murderer.’ She was pointing at me. ‘His aunt got home that morning and as soon as she saw the blood she called the police. But she was already dead.’

She looked stunned by the reality of what she’d just said, as if this was the first time she was hearing the terrible news. She began wailing. People looked around the court, not knowing what to do, until her relatives pulled her back to her seat. But she started screaming.

‘This isn’t over! I will never give up! I’ll write to the mayor! There must be justice!’

The judge pummelled his gavel. The whole scene shocked me, it was playing out as if the fault lay with the police, not me. I was upset and even thought of standing up and shouting at them myself. The prosecutor desperately resumed his questioning so that the policeman could make a quick and gloomy exit. My lawyer had no intention of putting any questions to him.

My aunt was supposed to have been called in, but instead the prosecutor read out a transcript of a formal interview. Next came the two guards from the military academy. Their cheeks were puffy and red, but as soon as they saw me their eyes turned cold, like wolves. They were angry. How were they supposed to know? ‘Isn’t it your job to keep watch, not just stand around?’ their boss would have roared back, thumping the table.

The first guard admitted to having seen a girl entering the compound, the second wasn’t sure.

‘You swap shifts at 3.00, correct?’

‘Correct.’

‘I believe this was a premeditated murder,’ the prosecutor said, pointing at me.

‘I never said it wasn’t,’ I said, standing up.