Уильям Макгиверн - Summitt

Judge Flood cleared his throat. “Mr. Thomson, our interest in these matters is not unlimited. Please get to the point.”

“Yes, sir. The thing is, I sized up the situation at Longwood like a soldier. Her father, Mr. Selby looked dangerous to me, dangerous to everybody. Until I could analyze the situation I didn’t want to risk anybody getting hurt. So I retreated, which was the strategic thing to do under the circumstances.”

“It was a military move then?” Brett suggested.

“Yes. It was only bad luck I was thrown from the motorbike. But you can’t run a military exercise by computers. Chaos is often the rule in combat. My father explained that to me. No matter how trained and motivated troops are, there is always an X in the battlefield equation — how the individual soldier will react to gunfire, to wounds or to the appearance of the enemy at an unexpected place or time... Well, I didn’t panic when I saw her father, because I’ve been trained to anticipate the disorder that is the essence of violence. Physical combat is the last place a hero can define himself — I’m speaking of the heroic ideal, ma’am. There is nothing vain or personal in this. But that ideal has declined irreversibly since the Greeks worshipped the heroes of the Iliad and the Odyssey .”

Thomson hesitated, a trace of uncertainty in his expression. Flexing his hands, he said, “I didn’t run from her father, ma’am. I’d never run — from anybody.”

“You are proud of your own father’s military background and record, Mr. Thomson?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did he discuss the details of his military career with you?”

“I found his discharge papers and service ribbons and Bronze Star when I was just a kid. They were in a musette bag in a storage room.” Earl paused. “My father told me a military unit was the fairest thing ever conceived. You were read the rules when you joined. The Articles of War. If you broke the rules, you were punished.”

“Did your father ever mention the name Jonas Selby to you?”

Tension hardened Earl’s mouth. Davic half rose, then settled back in his chair. The courtroom had become unnaturally silent.

“To the best of my knowledge,” Thomson said slowly, “the first time I heard that name was here in this court.”

“Did your father tell you that he had presided over military courts in Korea?”

“I... I believe that came up in our talks.”

“Your father never mentioned the name Jonas Selby during those conversations?”

“To the best of my knowledge, no.”

“Mr. Thomson, as a cadet colonel at Rockland Military College, you occasionally gave lectures on military topics to underclassmen. Correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. All upperclassmen gave such talks.”

Brett picked up a manila envelope from the People’s table and unwound the waxed string from the metal disc on its flap. On a corner of the envelope was a glossy decal of an armored knight with a black shield. Opening the envelope, Brett removed a volume in gray cloth with crimson edges. The lettering on the cover was plainly visible to Earl Thomson and the attorneys at the defense table. It was a Rockland Military College yearbook, the school motto arched in black capitals: THY COUNTRY IS THINE HONOR.

“Mr. Thomson, do you recognize this volume?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s our college yearbook.”

“Would the court stenographer please note,” Brett said, “that the witness has identified the Rockland Military College yearbook for the year 1974. The book contains two hundred sixty-two pages of general information about the school and faculty. Plus fifty-eight photographs of the graduating class of the year 1974. The lectures you gave, Mr. Thomson” — Brett nodded at the book she was holding — “are listed here in your biographical sketch. You conducted seminars on military justice and punishment, and several others on the rights of defendants and the responsibility of officers in summary and general courts. That information is correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“In those seminars on the courts-martial system of the U.S. Army, did you ever mention the trial of Jonas Selby?”

“ No, ma’am. To the best of my knowledge, I did not.”

“To the best of your knowledge? Then to the best of your knowledge did you discuss in those lectures the role your father played in the court-martial of Jonas Selby?”

Davic objected. “This line of inquiry is totally extraneous, Your Honor. I move that it be stricken from the records.”

“On the contrary, Your Honor. The court-martial of Jonas Selby is crucial and relevant to the issues at court — according to Mr. Davic himself. He argued to have K.S. 36663864 made part of the record. If Mr. Davic now believes that transcript is extraneous, I ask why he went to such trouble to have it released from an Operative-Classified category and introduced as a defense exhibit. He insisted that truth was the heart of his defense. That motive was the heart of that truth. It was Mr. Davic who advised the jury that Harry Selby’s father had been prosecuted and sent to prison by Major George Thomson. He insisted that Harry Selby had known and hated the Thomson family long before the rape of his daughter. That the seeds of the persecution of Earl Thomson lay deep in the past in Korea — or so Mr. Davic argued. Very well, Your Honor, let the People have the opportunity to turn that question around. What did Earl Thomson know of the Selby family before that savage attack on Shana Selby? May we not ask what he—”

Flood cut her off with his gavel. “I have not yet ruled on Mr. Davic’s objection, Miss Brett. I will review my notes on K.S. 36663864. We will recess for fifteen minutes for that purpose.”

George Thomson and Dom Lorso waited for Davic outside the courtroom. The corridor was crowded but the police had roped off the entrance to Superior Nine. When Davic appeared there were shouted questions and the flash of camera bulbs.

Lorso drew on a cigarette, his nerves shredded from the hours of enforced abstinence, then said quietly, “She’s playing him like a yo-yo, Davic. Didn’t you tell him to stick to yes and no, for Christ’s sake?” Thomson nodded vigorously.

Davic presented a fixed smile to the cameras. Barely moving his lips, he said, “The defendant doesn’t want any disruptions from me, Mr. Thomson. Those were his words. Your son is running things. It wasn’t my decision to introduce the court-martial transcript that gave Brett a green light to cross-examine. She’s taking full advantage of your generosity. Your son is damaging himself, Mr. Thomson, but I can’t stop him.”

Thomson blinked uncomfortably as flashlights exploded in his eyes. “Then tell Slocum to stop her, ” he said very quietly.

The three men stood together facing the reporters and photographers. “Give us a break, gentlemen,” Davic said pleasantly. “I don’t have a statement to make now. When I do you’ll be covered, that’s a promise.”

“We’ve waited long enough.” Thomson rubbed his mouth to muffle the words. “Earl can’t handle it. Tell Slocum to cut her legs off before it’s too late.”

“Yes, of course,” Davic said, and with a genial wave to the press, returned to the courtroom.

Judge Flood sounded his gavel with deliberate emphasis and instructed the People to make no further inquiries into the accused’s knowledge of Jonas Selby.

“The young man was not born at the time of that trial in Korea,” Flood said. “It’s inconceivable those events have no bearing on him now. Miss Brett, please go on to something else.”

“Exception, Your Honor. With respect, the People have a right to examine evidence which was introduced by the defense for the sole purpose of ascribing a felonious motive to the plaintiff’s father. If the court-martial of Jonas Selby was ruled pertinent to the defense, I hold that it must be pertinent to the People. ”