A Matter of Conviction

“Then why didn’t you take this to your superiors? Or why didn’t you come to me? The old adage about criminal law being the bargain basement of the profession has a lot of truth in it. I’m sure the defense would be willing to talk a deal. What are you trying to do, Hank? Throw your own case?”

“Abe, you don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“I’m doing something I’ve got to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Let’s say I do have doubts.”

“Do you?”

“This is all supposition.”

“It’s all supposition because you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you, Abe. But you’re the judge in this case.”

“I’m not the judge right now. I’m your friend. I wouldn’t give a damn what happened to you if I weren’t your friend.”

“When we get back into that courtroom, you become the judge again.”

“Damnit, Hank, trust me. What are you trying to accomplish?”

Hank took a deep breath. “I’m trying to get acquittals for Aposto and Di Pace. I’m trying to get leniency for Reardon.”

“What in the holy hell for?”

“Because... because I think that would be justice.”

“Then why didn’t you go to the D.A.? Why didn’t you come to me before the trial?”

“Because, Abe, for the first time in my life I want newspaper headlines.”

Samalson rose from his desk. “You’re committing suicide. You’re killing yourself.”

“No.”

“Yes, damnit, yes. You’ll get fired as sure as I’m standing here. You’ll make the D.A.’s office look foolish and ridiculous. They won’t stand for it, Hank.”

“I don’t care. If it accomplishes—”

“It’ll accomplish nothing. You’ll lose your job, that’s all. And nobody else will want to hire you. You won’t even be able to get arrested in this city.”

“Maybe.”

“No maybes about it. That’s what’s going to happen. I won’t let you do it. We’re going out there right now to talk to the defense attorneys. When you tell them—”

“Abe, no, please. Let me do this my way.”

“Let you kill yourself? Is that what you’re asking me? Don’t you know your office wants to use these three kids as examples? Don’t you know the city is—”

“I am going to use them as examples. Examples of human beings. Abe, they’re not mystifying aliens from another planet. They’re scared, lonely kids.”

“Tell that to the mother of Rafael Morrez. Psychology isn’t going to help the victim in this case, Hank.”

“Yes, Abe, it is, because every damn kid involved in this murder is a victim.”

“The law is clear on—”

“This has nothing to do with the law. The hell with the law! Abe, I’m a lawyer, and the law has been my life. You know that. But how can I convict these kids until I know who really killed Rafael Morrez? And when I know that, the law becomes meaningless.”

“Don’t you know who killed that boy?”

“Yes, Abe, I do. We all killed him.”

“Hank, Hank...”

“We all killed him, Abe, because we’re not doing anything. We sit around and we talk about it, and we appoint commissions, and we listen to viewpoints, and all the while we know what’s wrong, we’ve already got the facts, but we won’t act on them. Instead, we allow Rafael Morrez to lose his life.”

“So what do you want to do? Start a campaign right this minute? In my courtroom? Hank, you’d never—”

“Can you think of a better time, Abe?”

Samalson shook his head. “This is the wrong way, Hank.”

“It’s the right way, the only way. Somebody’s got to get up and yell! Somebody’s got to be heard!”

“Why the hell does it have to be you?”

“I don’t know why. Don’t you think it scares me? I’d rather face a cannon than go out into that courtroom and reverse my own case. But, Abe, if somebody doesn’t do it now, if somebody doesn’t take a stand to stop this damn thing, we might just as well throw down the barricades. And then law and justice won’t mean a thing, because the world will be run by savages. I don’t want to raise my kid or my kid’s kid in a barbarian camp. I don’t want them torn apart, Abe. These kids are too important! They’re too goddamned important to waste!”

The room went silent.

After a long while, Abe Samalson said, “I wish I were younger.”

“Abe...?”

“I’ll hear the trial fairly. Don’t expect favors of me.”

“You know me better than that, Abe.”

“You’ll be slitting your own throat.”

“Maybe.”

“All right, all right,” Samalson said, sighing. “Let’s get out there before they accuse us of collusion.” At the door he hesitated. He put his hand on Hank’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he said. “You’re going to need it.”

The first witness Hank called after the recess was Angela Rugiello.

The girl took the stand hesitantly, scanning the courtroom with frightened brown eyes. She wore a green dress and high-heeled pumps. She pulled her skirt demurely over her knees as soon as she sat.

“Your name, please?” Hank asked.

“Angela Rugiello.”

“Where do you live, Miss Rugiello?”

“In Harlem.”

“Would you look over there to where the defendants are sitting, please? Do you know those three boys?”

“Yes,” she answered. Her voice was very low.

“Are you frightened, Miss Rugiello?”

“A little.”

“Of me?”

“No.”

“Of His Honor?”

“No.”

“Surely not of the defense attorneys,” Hank said, smiling. “They seem harmless enough.”

“No, I’m not afraid of them.”