The twins also knew from the newspapers that their dad had been taking a certain amount of heat from black activists because Salaam and Mohammed were Black Muslims. The charges, according to one newspaper op-ed opinion piece by some attorney named Hugh Louis, would never have been brought if the defendants had been "white and Christian." Louis had accused their dad of "giving in to the racist hysteria of post 9/11 where every dark face and every Muslim is considered a terrorist."
The boys had wanted to ask their dad what it all meant, especially because they had known Salaam and Mohammed for nearly two years and didn't believe that they would have done the crime. But Butch Karp didn't like to "bring the office home" (as they'd heard him tell their mother) and they'd avoided saying anything.
Zak frowned, something he did so often that his mother warned him someday his face was "going to stick like that"-a not totally disagreeable result because he thought it made him look tougher. Of the twins, he was the stockier and more athletic, prone to act first and consider, if he ever did, the ramifications later. He was a good-looking kid who had his share of female admirers in junior high.
On the other hand, Giancarlo was beautiful by anyone's standard. Artists he met on the street or through his parents remarked that he looked as if he could have posed as an angel for Renaissance painters. His dark wavy hair was growing back nicely after having been shaved for the surgery. He was more likely to think before he acted and often surprised adults with his perception, as well as his nearly savant talent as a musician who now played the violin, guitar, harmonica, and accordion.
"Well, I think it's fucked up that just because someone says something a person's life can be ruined," Zak said.
"You shouldn't use language like that," Giancarlo scolded. "It doesn't make you seem smarter; in fact, the opposite."
"Whatever, fucker."
When the twins got home an hour later, they grilled their dad about what was going to happen to Salaam and Mohammed. "Sorry, boys," he said. "I've been a little preoccupied lately, and I'm not up to speed on that one, though I expect I'll hear about it at tomorrow's staff meeting. Not that I'll be able to tell you much even then."
"Why not?" Zak complained.
"Why?" Karp replied raising an eyebrow. "Because it's top secret. Oh, I suppose I could tell you, but then I'd have to have you whacked, which your mother would probably never forgive me for."
"Actually," Marlene said, entering the living room and catching the tail end of the conversation, "I've considered having them whacked myself for the state they left their bedroom in today when I specifically told them to clean it up or no basketball."
Recognizing the danger of imminent chores, Giancarlo decided this wasn't the time to press on about their friends. "Come on, Zak." He sniffed. "I'm hungry and since the parental units would just as soon starve us out as look at us, I suggest we go look in the refrigerator before we pass out from hunger." Zak said nothing but followed his brother's cue and immediately turned and fled for the kitchen.
"Bedroom," Marlene yelled after them. "Clean. Or no Santa Claus at Christmas."
"We don't believe in Santa Claus," Zak retorted over his shoulder.
"And besides, we're half Jew, we only half believe in Christmas," Giancarlo added.
"I guess we'll remember that on Christmas morning then," Marlene said.
The twins paused and looked at each other. But there'd been similar threats over the years, and they decided this one wasn't worthy of talking back. They continued on.
With the twins out of the way, Marlene settled down on the couch next to where her husband was reading Walter Isaacson's book on Benjamin Franklin, An American Life. He pointed to a sentence and said, "His guiding principle was 'a dislike of everything that tended to debase the spirit of the common people.' I like that."
"Uh-huh," Marlene said as she snuggled closer and began playing with the zipper on the front of his sweatshirt.
Karp recognized the prelude to something more immediately interesting than old Ben and closed the book. "What's up?"
"Remember me telling you about meeting that interesting Russian girl yesterday?" she said.
"Yeah, but you didn't say much," he replied.
"Well, I was a little preoccupied with Mom and Dad," she said.
Karp put his arm around her shoulders. He'd felt so helpless when she told him about her visit with Concetta and Mariano. What was there to say about such a horrible disease? All he could do was hold her and listen…and wonder if the same sort of thing might happen someday to them.
"What can you tell me about the Michalik case?" Marlene asked suddenly.
Karp stiffened. Marlene didn't usually pry into his work. In fact, she usually steered well clear of it. He felt an odd twisting in his gut and hoped it wasn't a premonition that she was about to stick her nose where it didn't belong, again.
"This have to do with the Russian woman?" he asked.
Marlene fiddled a little more with the zipper and nodded. "Her name was Helena Michalik."
"The wife of Alexis Michalik?" he asked. She nodded again. He shrugged. "He's been accused of sexually assaulting one of his grad students. Seems to be a strong case. I think Rachel's going to discuss taking it to the grand jury for an indictment at tomorrow's meeting. Why?"
Marlene cringed at the mention of Rachel Rachman, one of her former protegees when Marlene had run the DA's sex crimes unit years ago. At one time she'd considered Rachman the best and most logical choice as her successor. But somewhere along the line, Rachman had become a zealot who seemed to view all men as potential rapists and all women as victims.
"I don't know, maybe just the boys' questions about their friends," she said. "Sometimes people make false accusations. I was just wondering if someone's looked into the 'victim's' history. Helena seems to think that this woman was the one who was coming on to her husband." She told him what the other woman had told her.
As his wife spoke, Karp felt himself getting irritated. There were times when it seemed everybody in his family was backseat-driving his cases. "Coeds flirt with their professors all the time," he said. "It doesn't mean they deserve to get raped."
Now it was Marlene who flared a little. "I didn't say that. I was just asking if anyone's looked into the possibility that this woman might be lying."
But Karp wasn't backing down. "I'm sure that between the regular detectives and our investigators, we've looked under all the rocks. Besides, since when have you advocated that a victim's sexual history is relevant to a rape case? Isn't that the sort of thing that the shield laws were created to prevent? You used to be a big advocate of the shield laws. Isn't it a little two-faced now to suggest that we look into the alleged victim's sexual past just because you've taken in another stray dog?"
He'd meant for the statement to sound lighter than it had come out of his mouth. A gentle teasing, maybe a little good-natured chiding, but he knew as soon as he said dog that Marlene wasn't going to take it that way.
Indeed, she froze beneath his arm and stopped playing with the zipper. She sat back up and away from him. She glared at him for a moment, then announced, "I have a headache. I'm going to bed."
"Marlene…," he said, intending to apologize, but she was already up and off the couch, and quickly disappeared down the hallway toward their bedroom.
Karp swore. Married to the woman for nearly twenty-five years and he still kept hitting the wrong buttons when he didn't intend it. No sense going back there until she's asleep, he thought, I'd get frostbite.
At about the same time that Karp was wishing he could take back words, Rashad Salaam and Khalif Mohammed were finishing their evening prayers at a small storefront mosque in Harlem. They had been inseparable since childhood-whether that was on the neighborhood courts, the high school team, or signing their letters of intent to play at Columbia while sitting at the kitchen table in Khalif's house as his proud mother looked on, bawling like a baby because "my child is going to college."