In the psychiatry they represented, there was no category for moral deliberation.
The other pair of psychiatrists admitted they had been in doubt. All those days in court in which Breivik had not shown the slightest emotion had made Terje Tørrissen uncertain and he had asked to talk to him again. He went down to the basement and met him in the waiting cell. There he found him to be the same man he had got to know in the course of the observations, friendly, polite and adequate. In order to get through the trial he was playing a role, Tørrissen judged. In the supplementary statement that Aspaas and Tørrissen delivered during the trial, they described Breivik as a special case. His dulled state was a challenge to ‘the prevailing classification systems and models of understanding, particularly in the matter of drawing the line between lack of reality and political fanaticism’. Under examination by Inga Bejer Engh, the pair withdrew their diagnosis of dissocial personality disorder. All that remained were the narcissistic traits. They were thus left with the conclusion that he was accountable for his actions.
Once all the evidence had been heard, the prosecution had to reach a conclusion. Was he accountable for his actions or not? They were not sure he was not accountable, but they had serious doubts. It is an important principle of the rule of law that doubt should not be discounted. This had to apply, regardless of the crime. That was how they argued.
The prosecution’s conclusion: not accountable for his actions.
On the final day of the trial, the aggrieved parties were to make impact statements, as is standard procedure in Norwegian courts. An employee in the government quarter grieved for lost colleagues; three mothers remembered their children and talked about how losing them had affected their whole family. The General Secretary of the AUF spoke about the loss to the political organisation; and finally, a girl who had lost her sister was to end the session.
The seventeen-year-old had been called by her public advocate the previous evening and asked if she could make the closing statement of the trial.
I can’t do it, Lara thought.
She said, ‘Yes, I can.’
On the busy morning ferry into the city, the ferry that Bano had loved, she sat looking out over the fjord, wondering what she was going to say.
How could she explain what losing Bano meant?
She was going to meet four friends at Check Mate, the café by the courthouse. The waiter lent her an order pad and a pen. She started writing, and then read it out. Her friends listened and made criticisms and suggestions. More of this, less of that. Only the best was good enough here. ‘You’ve got to include where you all come from!’ they said. ‘Who you are, who Bano was!’
She wanted to opt out. She couldn’t go through with it. She was freezing in her white crocheted top and her jeans felt too tight. But it was time to go. Her feet carried her past the security check, in through the heavy doors, up the winding staircase and into room 250.
Now she was on her way up the central aisle. Now she was going to face her sister’s murderer.
She took her place in the witness box, afraid her voice would give way. Then she noticed a pair of eyes on her. The pregnant Colombian lay judge with the long dark curls was looking at her. She has kind eyes, thought Lara, and put down her piece of paper. She would say the most important things about Bano. What she had in her heart.
‘Bano and I fled from Iraq in 1999. We fled from the civil war and Saddam Hussein. I had a real struggle with all the trauma and it took me a long time to feel safe here. I had nightmares that the police would come and get us. Bano helped me. There’s two years between us, but we shared all our secrets. I remember her saying, “Even if you happen to lose friends, you’ll never lose me.”’
Her voice held. ‘I had no idea then that she would be the one I lost first of all.’
Lara spoke of how she had done nothing but sleep in the time after Utøya. ‘I dreamt that I was dead and she was the one alive. I mixed up what was real and what wasn’t, and when I woke up I thought real life was the nightmare. It took me several months to understand what was what. It’s made me feel guilty seeing how sad people are. It should have been me who died, then not so many people would have been sad.’
She managed to be entirely honest.
‘When everyone was grieving, I just felt I was in the way. It wrecked my self-confidence. I was born as a little sister. I’ve never lived a life just as a big sister.’
There were ripples of movement along the rows of seats. It was the last day. It was over. But not for Lara.
‘I had to learn to do things myself. I had to learn to start trusting other people. It’s been a difficult time and I don’t want to live like this. He didn’t only take away my security, he took away the safest person in my life. The sorrow is as great as ever, the sense of loss is even greater, but there’s something new.’
She paused.
‘Hope. It wasn’t there before. Bano didn’t die for nothing. She died for a multicultural Norway. There’s a huge empty hole and I’m heartbroken that she won’t be at my wedding or see my children. But I’m proud of her, and I know she wants me to be happy.’
That was the way she ended. Bano was with her.
She turned towards her parents as she left the witness box. Their eyes were moist. Her father raised his hand and gave a little wave. So did her mother.
Lara felt warm all over. Their looks said: We are proud of you. We are so glad you are alive.
The Verdict
On 24 August 2012 the verdict was to be pronounced. The courtroom filled once more with the world press, who had lost interest after the first couple of weeks. There was pressure on seats again.
The accused was in place, his right-wing extremist salute was back, the prosecution came, the public advocates, the defence, the audience.
The judges entered and everyone stood up.
Wenche Arntzen remained standing to read the decision.
‘Anders Behring Breivik, born 13 February 1979, is convicted of breaching §147a of the legal code, clause one letters a and b… to detention in custody…’
A smile spread across Breivik’s face. Accountable for his actions!
He received the maximum penalty the law allowed: twenty-one years. But detention in custody meant that, as long as he represented a threat to society, the sentence could be extended by five years, another five years, another five years – until death claimed him.
PART THREE
The Mountain
He slid down the cliff.
And threw himself behind a rock.
He slithered down the cliff.
And ran under the ledge.
He skidded down on soil and gravel.
And crept behind a boulder.
He leapt down in long strides.
He readied himself. Three jumps and he’d be down.
You know, Tone, our Simon’s a fast runner and a good swimmer.
He had said on that Friday.
How many times had he slid down that cliff for Simon…
He slid in the night, he slid in the day, he slid in his dreams.
A hundred times. A thousand.
Over and over again he saw his son in front of him – jumping over the log, not stopping halfway, but sliding on.
Run, Simon! Run!
Gunnar slid.
He slithered.
And then he stumbled.
Losing Simon was like falling into a black hole.