The Way Back

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3Anya and Stefan were there for the trial—with several dozen of their friends. When Razz and Stanten arrived at the courthouse, they found a large crowd out front, shouting and waving placards, emblazoned with slogans like Justice for Javi! and Stop persecution of Ixellans! Crowd control barriers and a line of police kept the demonstrators back, but they were only noisy, not violent.

There were a lot of people there. Not only the demonstrators, but a lot of press too. A young woman soldier killed by an Ixellan rioter was the government’s narrative and it had generated much outrage in the local press, which portrayed Javi as a criminal and a thug. Stanten had to keep Razz away from the news feeds or his blood pressure would be off the charts.

“Captain Stanten!” someone called after they passed a security check, showing ID passes Chand had arranged. She turned to see Mrs Zhintaq waiting at the security check. Anya and Stefan accompanied her, but they were not getting past the check. She spoke to them and they turned to go back outside, presumably to join the other Ixellan demonstrators.

“Those kids got you here okay then, ma’am,” Stanten said.

“Oh yes. They’re tough talkers that pair, but they’re good sorts really.”

“I’m sure. Chand’s inside waiting for us.”

They found him in a corridor, studying his tablet, scowling. He put on a smile as they approached. “Good morning.”

“Is Javi here?” Razz asked.

“Yeah, he’s here. I’ve talked to him, given him last minute prep. He’s got his suit on. Thanks for paying for that, Captain. Are you ready for your testimony? And you, ma’am?” he added, to Zhintaq. They both confirmed they were. “Mr Jensen, you can head into the public viewing area. I’d go now, because it’s already filling up. Ladies, if you’ll follow me, there’s an area where you can wait to be called.”

“Thank you, dear,” Zhintaq said. She took Stanten’s arm as they walked. “While we wait you can tell me all about that project you did about Harriet Tubman. I’m always looking for new ideas for the children.”

* * * *

As soon as they brought Javi into the court the only person he could see was Razz. He supposed there were other people there too. There was a lot of movement and noise on the edge of his awareness, but all he could focus on was that face. That smile. It wasn’t a smile of delight, that was clear. It was a strained smile, pasted on to reassure, to comfort. Javi needed as much of that as he could get.

The rest of the room forced itself onto his awareness when the court bailiff put a hand on his shoulder to push him, not too hard, into a seat. Oh, right, yes. He was on trial, wasn’t he? He sat at a table beside Chand.

“Are you feeling okay?” Chand asked.

“I’m okay.” For given values of okay. On trial and almost certainly going to prison. Chand had told him to prepare for that. Razz held out hope for a not guilty verdict, but Javi had no illusions. He hoped Razz would have the good sense to get the f**k out of here after that. It was good of him to support Javi through the trial, but Javi couldn’t ask him to wait for years and years. He’d already hinted at that to Razz and after the verdict he’d have to make it clearer. Send him away.

“You sure?” Chand said. “If you’re ill, I’ll ask for a continuance.”

“No, I’m not ill. No continuance. Let’s get this done.” He’d waited months and he wanted it finished. The trial was only expected to last this one day. It was a pretty simple case.

Simple enough that the prosecutor didn’t have many pieces of evidence to introduce. The video screen in the court was fired up. The lights were dimmed, and the jury watched the drone footage. Javi running at the soldier, swinging that spar of wood. The blood, the soldier dropping. Javi had to close his eyes to not see that moment again, but that didn’t help much. He could see it as clearly. He also didn’t want to look at the jury members’ reaction. Chand watched them intently. But Javi had seen that horrified and disgusted reaction before and didn’t want to see it again.

When the footage ended, an image of the victim came up on the screen. Her name was Elena, the prosecutor explained, and she told the jury about Elena’s family, her proud parents, and her great marks at the military police academy. Her hopes and dreams. All snuffed out by one man, “wielding this.”

Javi could have thrown up when Exhibit A was produced. The murder weapon. It looked huge, in a way it hadn’t felt in his hand, a heavy spar of wood. But the wood might as well have been something as friendly as chocolate, because it faded into insignificance, in contrast to the nail sticking through the end of it. Black, twisted, and bent. The prosecutor described how the weapon had been found near the body. Had been tested. The blood on the nail belonged to Elena. Traces of Javi’s DNA had been found on the wood, skin cells scraped from the palms of his hands by the rough splintery surface.

Chand’s elbow nudged into his arm and he opened his eyes again. He’d closed them to block out the image of that nail. But Chand had told him to never look as if he wasn’t paying full attention to the prosecutor and the case. That he would look arrogant and uncaring to the jury otherwise. So he kept his eyes open. He let his gaze and focus soften, so he seemed to see it all through a blur of tears.

* * * *

Chand called Mrs Zhintaq after the lunch recess. Though first he ran more of the video footage. The part the prosecutor hadn’t shown, the soldier manhandling the old lady, and the aftermath, when the teacher comforted the woman as she lay dying. It was almost harder to watch than the attack. The drone couldn’t pick up their words. He saw himself rise and run off into the darkness. He saw Mrs Zhintaq cover the woman’s face with a piece of cloth before leaving herself. Then Mrs Zhintaq took the witness stand.

“Ma’am, you are a school teacher, is that right?” Chand said.

“That’s correct. I ran a school in Sabelville and have set one up in the new town.”

“And you’ve known Javi for many years.”

“Almost his whole life. His mother sent him to my school. After she died he stopped coming for a while, but I went looking for him and made sure he came back, and that he moved into the orphan hostel. I knew his mother well. She didn’t want him getting involved in crime and gangs. I tried to help him avoid that and he did. He kept coming to school and when he was older he took jobs. Not drugs.”

She’d saved his life. Those few weeks after his mother died he’d tried to live in their one room place alone, but when the tiny amount his mother had saved ran out, and he could no longer pay rent, the landlord had said he could introduce Javi to men who would pay generously for the company of a nice looking twelve year old boy like him. So he’d taken what little stuff he had and bolted. Friends had given him a roof where they could. But some of them had also had job offers for him, usually involving carrying small parcels around and bringing back cash payments for them. He’d done it a couple of times, when he had no money left at all.

But he’d known where that road led to and the relief when Mrs Z found him and took him to the orphan hostel had been profound. He was old for that place, most of the kids in there were small ones. By the time they were fourteen or fifteen most kids struck out on their own. So at twelve he was already one of the big kids. That means you have to look after the little ones, Mrs Z had told him. You bring them safely to school in the morning and take them home after. His mom would have approved of that. So he’d tried to make her and Mrs Z proud. He’d actually stayed there until he was seventeen and had practically been a member of staff at that point.

Mrs Zhintaq was telling them about that part, until the prosecutor objected that this was irrelevant and the judge upheld it.

“Ma’am,” Chand said, “Sadly on that terrible night, Javi was involved in a crime. Can you tell us more about what happened, please.”

She sighed. “The things for the school had already been taken out to the new town. I knew we couldn’t gain anything from fighting back at that point. But the young are harder to convince. So I had already agreed to go with the soldier, but as we were leaving I realised I didn’t have my bag. I tried to go back for it and the soldier took my arm to hurry me along. Which is when Javi arrived, and I think he misunderstood the situation. He thought she was manhandling me.”

“And he attacked her.”

“I’m afraid so. But I don’t believe he intended her serious injury. He thought he was—”

“Objection, the witness doesn’t know what the defendant thought or intended,” the prosecutor said. Again it was sustained and Chand had her move on. But at least the jury had heard the words. That worked both ways, Javi thought. Sometimes they hear what the prosecutor doesn’t want.

She described how Javi had tried to stop the bleeding, but it was too late, how he’d been so shocked and horrified. And how she’d told him to run. Chand, anticipating the cross examination, said, “Why did you not come forward before now?”

“I…I should have,” she said. “Perhaps me giving evidence on Javi’s behalf will get me arrested as an accessory, but I’m prepared for that. I didn’t call the police on Javi that night because I believed it was an accident, and that he didn’t deserve to have his life ruined over something that happened while he was defending me and the school in the middle of all the confusion and fighting. That was my choice and I take full responsibility for it.”

Chand sat and the prosecutor stood to cross examine, but didn’t exactly go for the throat. Mrs Zhintaq came across as a respectable lady, a community leader, and looked rather small and frail in the witness box. A sign they didn’t want to agitate the Ixellans by going after someone so well respected?

So the cross examination was brief and only clarified a few points—like making it clear that Mrs Zhintaq couldn’t know what Javi was thinking and what his intentions were.

Chand brought Stanten on after that, as what he called a character witness, saying that Javi had been a good employee, not causing any trouble. After that there was only one more witness.

Javi took the stand himself and took an oath to tell the truth.

“It was an accident,” he said, when Chand had talked him through the events to the point where he struck the soldier. “I wanted to…to knock her down, something like that. Make her stop manhandling Mrs Z…Zhintaq. That’s all. I didn’t see the nail. I tried to stop the bleeding, but there was nothing I could do.” He let the shake show in his voice. It showed he cared, that it genuinely still upset him to think of.

The prosecutor got her turn. “You say it was an accident, that you never intended serious harm. But you didn’t take even a second to check what you were about to strike that officer with, did you?”

“No. I…had a lot of adrenaline going.”

“Excuses.”

He looked down at his hands, clasped in front of him. He’d looked at Razz and Stanten a few times while he gave evidence, trying to take some strength from them. But now he couldn’t look at them. Even though he wanted Razz more than anyone to hear this, that it had been an accident. That Javi was not a murderer. Just a fool.

“No, I should have checked. I didn’t. But I didn’t intend to kill her.”

“And yet she is dead.” The voice was soft, almost as if it was meant only for him. He answered it as quietly.

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“And then you ran. You could have handed yourself in to the police. Taken responsibility. Instead you ran and tried to escape from the consequences of your actions.”

“I didn’t think I’d get a fair hearing.”

Damn, Chand had told him not to play up that angle.