A Matter of Conviction

“Never mind. It’s just... Never mind.” He put his glasses on again and then dug into his briefcase, pulling out a report in a blue folder. She watched him as he leafed through it. She saw his back stiffen, and then he sat erect in the chair, and then he bent over the report and read it again, tracing his finger down the page, reading it line by line, like a beginning reader in a backward group. He shook his head and shoved his chair back, and then he began pacing the room, and she watched him helplessly.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Let’s take a walk. Jennie won’t be back for a while, will she?”

“She went to a party. The neighborhood boycott seems to be easing.”

“Then let’s go. Please, Karin. I need some air. I have to think.”

They walked out of the house and down toward the river. It was a mild night, dark clouds scudding over a thin crescent moon. They walked through the woods and then sat on the flat rock overlooking the railroad tracks and the water. They lighted cigarettes. In the glow of the match, she saw his face — troubled, vulnerable, youthful. Again she wanted to touch him.

“What is it, Hank?” she said.

“The trial begins Monday,” he said.

“Yes?”

“I’ve got an airtight case for Murder One. I spent a month knocking the case together, a month tracking down every possible lead. And today, today I... tonight, reading over my notes, my carefully prepared notes, my meticulously prepared case, tonight I’m puzzled. Tonight, I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell to do.”

“Isn’t the case a good one?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. No, it isn’t. Damnit, it isn’t. It’s no damn good at all! Karin, I found out today that the victim was a gang member himself! I couldn’t believe it at first. How could a blind kid become involved with thugs, with hoodlums? But I had some members of the Horsemen brought in, right to the precinct, and I questioned them in the detective squad room, and they all admitted it. Rafael Morrez was a member of their gang. A highly valuable member, as it turned out. His blindness practically guaranteed immunity from the law.”

“So?”

“So where does it end, Karin? Where the hell are the boundaries? Not only was he a member of the Horsemen, but two of the boys who killed him had seen him on at least one previous occasion. Which means they might have recognized him on the night of the murder. And if they did, then they knew he was a blind boy when they killed him.”

“Then on the one hand you have the cold-blooded murder of a known blind boy, and on the other a victim who is not entirely blameless himself.”

“Well, it shouldn’t matter what Morrez was. I mean, what the hell, if a racketeer is killed, we still prosecute his murderer. It only matters in that... Karin, I’m just not sure what’s right or wrong any more. I’ve finally got a report from the police lab on those knives. The report — Karin, I’m supposed to convict those kids! I’m supposed to prove they’re guilty of murder. That’s what I’ve been working on. That’s the assumption I started with, and that’s what I’ve been building my case to prove. But when I talk to them, when I get the feel of them, when I know them, and their parents, and the whole damn gang structure, and the streets, those goddamn long, dark streets... Karin, Karin.”

“Darling, please don’t.”

“All of it has suddenly become something which defies my concept of right and wrong.”

“Murder is wrong, isn’t it?” Karin said.

“Yes, of course it’s wrong. But who committed this murder? Who’s responsible for this murder? Do you see what I’m driving at?”

“Not entirely.”

“The kids did the actual stabbing, yes. But is the final act the one to examine? Too many things led to this killing. If I blame these kids, I’ve also got to blame their parents, and the city, and the police — and where does it end? Where do I stop?” He paused. “Karin, I’m not a crusader.”

“The law tells you where to stop, Hank. Your only concern is the law.”

“As a lawyer, yes. But I’m also a person. And I can’t very well separate the part of me that’s a lawyer from the rest of me.”

“Nor can you separate the killer in these boys from...”

“I know I can’t. But what made them kill? Damnit, Karin, that’s my point. They killed, but does the simple fact of murder make them killers?”

“I think you’re involving yourself in semantics, Hank. If they killed, they are guilty of murder. That’s all you should concern yourself with.”

“Do you believe that, Karin?”

“I’m trying to help you, Hank.”

“But do you believe what you just said?”

“No,” she answered. Her voice was very low.

“Neither do I.” He paused. “I’m not a crusader.”

“Hank—”

“I’m not a crusader, Karin. I never have been. I guess maybe we can thank Harlem for that. I guess maybe I’m a coward at heart.”

“Hank, no. You’re a very brave person.”