“… and I submit, Your Honor, that if you deny the defense the right to develop a full understanding of what reincarnation consists of, a belief that is shared by millions upon millions of people in this world, you will be denying the defendant his constitutional right to plead his case and defend himself in the only possible manner left him. Furthermore, the defense is prepared to submit evidence supporting the defendant’s claim that the girl is his reincarnated daughter.”
Velie caught something in the judge’s look, a slight slackening of the skin around the mouth, a wandering of focus in the eyes, that set off warning bells clanging in his brain. Langley was going for it! He was buying the bullshit! Goddamn!
“Your Honor,” Velie quickly interposed, but even as he spoke, he knew it was too late. “Your Honor, this is beyond belief. Such a defense is totally unknown in Western courts. Reincarnation is believed in a portion of the world, true, but that world is not our world here. Are you going to impose another culture on our culture? You cannot do that, for then it will defy the laws that our legislature in its wisdom has passed down for the benefit of our society.”
Judge Langley’s tongue carefully moistened his lips before they opened to speak.
“You may be absolutely right, Mr. Velie, and I’m not saying you are wrong. However, I feel there is some merit in Mr. Mack’s assessment of the situation. Since kidnapping is such a serious charge, I don’t feel I can deprive the defendant of any defense he chooses to engage in that has some semblance of possibility for him.”
Brice Mack remained immobile, scarcely breathing, as Scott Velie shot to his feet and, flushed with anger, turned upon the old judge.
“Judge Langley,” he said, pronouncing the name as he would a malediction, “I plead with you to reconsider a decision for which there is no legal precedent.” His tone shifted subtly to a threatening register. “It may well open a Pandora’s box you may find impossible to close.”
“Your concern is appreciated, Mr. Velie,” Langley said dryly. “Nevertheless, until you can cite me any authority that holds reincarnation is impossible, I am not disposed to close off any area of defense for the defendant, so I will allow this testimony to go in, subject to its being connected to the actual facts of the case.”
And that was it.
Brice Mack had won.
16
By the time Judge Langley had returned to the bench and reconvened the court the room was more than three-quarters filled with spectators waiting breathlessly in an atmosphere charged with anticipation. How the news that something was about to break in Part Seven had managed to travel as quickly and reach as many people as it had was completely baffling to Janice. Even the press row was accommodated by an assortment of newspaper and radio people, slouching in their seats, quietly awaiting the recommencement of the proceeding with smiling interest.
The defense attorney began with a tightly puzzled expression on his face. “Now where were we,” he softly queried, leaving unstated but strictly implied, “before we were so rudely interrupted?” The question and the way in which it was put clearly informed the jurors that he had won his point in chambers and was now able to pursue the ends of justice in a free manner. Janice noticed that several jurors smiled and that a number of them cast surreptitious glances at Scott Velie, who sat motionless with his back turned to the defense attorney. She also sensed Bill gradually sinking deeper and deeper into his seat as the message of Velie’s defeat got through to him.
“Let me see,” Mack continued, pretending to sort through the cobwebs of his mind for the correct point of departure, not only fully aware of exactly where he had left off but of the precise order and nuance of each word he was about to utter—written, rewritten, rehearsed, and performed for hours on end each night for the past month before the cracked mirror in his cheap roach-ridden flat on West 103rd Street.
“Oh, yes, I was saying that we will demonstrate that the most conclusive and strongest possible familial relationship does indeed exist between the defendant, Elliot Hoover, and the child known as Ivy Templeton. A relationship, ladies and gentlemen, based not on the laws of man, which are imperfect and changeable, but on the perfect and immutable laws of a God and a religion embraced by more than one billion people on earth today; laws which are adhered to, believed in, practiced, and utilized in their daily lives with the same conviction and faith that we, in this courtroom, that you, sitting in that jury box, ascribe to your own religion.”
There was a soft rustling throughout the court as Brice Mack paused. The jury exchanged glances with one another. The reporters’ pencils remained poised over their pads.
“In the course of testimony, you will hear learned men expound on this religion, this faith and belief. You will be made privy to its tenets, its beauty, its rules and conditions, and its rewards.” Turning toward Hoover, Brice Mack extended a finger out to him in a gentle gesture. “You will hear a story from that man, from his own lips—a story that will shake you, grieve you, but that will in the end thrill you and uplift you. You will know of his child, his only child, Audrey Rose, aged five, and of her tragic and horrible end along with her mother in a fiery automobile accident. You will feel the keenness of Elliot Hoover’s loss, the desperate loneliness of his life in the aftermath of that terrible tragedy; you will hear how, in his darkest moment, a power and insight were granted him, how a message came to him, from the other side of the grave, as it were, a message through the intercession of one of this nation’s most honored and revered exponents of psychic phenomena, the late Erik Lloyd. A message that sent this honest, toiling, bedrock American, a man such as you and I,” he emphasized, gazing pointedly at Mr. Fitzgerald, “on a journey to far and exotic lands in order to corroborate its authenticity, to rid himself of all skepticism and doubt before permitting himself to credit its contents. A journey lasting seven years, during which time he embraced not only a faith and religion theretofore totally unknown to him, but a people as well, living with them, sharing their lives, their joys, their hopes, their misfortunes, and all for the purpose of ascertaining the validity of that strange and wondrous message proffered him by Erik Lloyd. A message that, if inaccurate, could seriously injure, do irreparable damage to the lives of three innocent human beings, but a message that, if true, could well provide the answer to one of man’s most ancient and unexplained mysteries; that would shed light on the very meaning and nature of life … and death.
“A message that said.…”
The graveyard silence in the courtroom sustained the perfect atmosphere for Brice Mack’s next remark, which came with the force and fury of a thunderclap.
“SHE LIVES!” he shouted, and wheeled around from the jury box to face the audience, his right hand pointing dramatically toward heaven. “YOUR DAUGHTER LIVES! AUDREY ROSE LIVES!”
Janice felt the entire courtroom jump as the words rent the air. Even Judge Langley flinched. Only Bill, burrowed deeply in his seat, eyes shut, chin sunk into his collar, mired in liquor and his own despair, seemed out of it.
“She lives!” Mack crooned tremblingly, his voice filled with a child’s awe. “Audrey Rose has returned! Her soul has crossed over the vale of darkness into a new earth life where it now resides in perfect harmony within the body of a child—a child who dwells in the city of New York and who is called Ivy.”
A general breath was exhaled by the court, accompanied by scattered titters. The jurors’ faces seemed stiff and unnatural, under constraint to maintain the proper degree of decorum under the circumstances; a losing battle in Juror Number Four, Mr. Potash, the accountant, who was smiling blatantly.