Andee was waiting to greet them in the lobby the following morning. “Dan’s talking to Gordon Lock,” she told Claudia as they embraced, “and Helen’s just gone to check if Archie’s arrived. Are you OK?” she asked, peering worriedly at Marcy.
As Claudia started to answer Marcy said, “Why don’t we get a coffee?”
“Miss Kav’na!” a voice called from the screening station.
They turned to see Maria clearing security with another woman following close behind. The stranger was plump with a nest of mussed blond hair, dark at the roots, and a proprietorial air toward Maria that seemed almost aggressive.
“This ma nay-buh, Raquel,” Maria told them.
“Everyone calls me Raq,” the woman added, reaching out to shake Marcy’s hand.
“Good morning,” Marcy responded, aware of Raq staring openly at her damaged face, almost as if inspecting it.
“Blimey, made a right mess of it, didn’t he?” Raq declared with a sniff. “Still, from what I hear he’s going down anyway. I told Maria he had to—”
“He not tryin’ to get off,” Maria broke in indignantly. “He said he did it and I tol’ you not to come if you was goin’ to say fings like tha’.”
Suspecting this neighbor had bullied Maria into letting her come so she could gather gossip and share it around the estate later, Marcy glanced at Andee, certain she’d have a way of dealing with this.
Apparently Andee did. Stepping forward she took Raq’s arm and began walking her to the door, saying, “It was lovely of you to make sure Maria got here safely, we all need good friends in difficult times, but we can take over now.”
As Raq tried to protest Maria muttered, “Nosy cow. Din know how to get rid of her.”
Claudia said, “We’re just about to get a coffee if you’d like to come.”
Holding back, Maria said, “Has anywuh see Ochie this mornin’?”
“Helen’s down there,” Marcy assured her, and spotting Henry coming through security, she added, “You go ahead to the café, I’ll join you in a minute.”
As Henry reached her he gave her an encouraging hug and held her by the shoulders as he searched her eyes with his. “Have you told anyone yet?” he asked.
“There hasn’t been an opportunity, but Andee’s just there, seeing that woman off . . .”
“And here’s Helen,” he added, spotting the lawyer on her way toward them.
After greeting Henry, Helen turned to Marcy. “Archie’s very keen that I give you this before we go into court.”
As Marcy took the letter her insides swirled into a chaos of nerves and concern, and a wrenching disappointment in herself for not having enough mettle to follow her conscience. She almost didn’t want to read the letter, but how could she not?
By the time she’d finished Andee had returned to the group, and Henry was taking out a handkerchief for Marcy to dry her eyes.
“Is everything all right?” Andee asked apprehensively.
“A letter from Archie,” Helen explained.
Marcy passed it to Andee and as Andee read it she explained what it said to Henry. “He thinks I shouldn’t address the jury,” she told him. “He says he understands how hard it’ll be for me, so, to use his words, he wants to cut me loose from feeling that I have to do any more.”
Henry searched her eyes carefully, apparently sensing what was going through her mind.
“It sounds as though he’s giving up,” she murmured, and knowing she couldn’t allow that to happen, that she’d forever feel ashamed of her cowardice if she didn’t speak up for him, she added, “I think we’ll forget about everything we discussed last night.”
Henry’s expression showed his understanding, although he still looked worried.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, telling herself she would. “If you could go and explain things to Claudia and Jasmine, being careful of what you say in front of Maria, I’ll have a quick chat with Andee and Helen before we go in.”
THE MORNING WAS taken up with character witnesses for Archie—an old sports teacher who described his young student’s gift with a football, and how sorry he was that Archie hadn’t attended school regularly. An ex-headmaster who spoke stiffly, although positively, about Archie’s willingness to learn and ability to stay out of trouble while in school in spite of the company he kept. Then came the owner of a car-repair shop who Archie had occasionally worked for and who’d have been happy to take him on as an apprentice if Archie had wanted it. It was generally known by all three men that Archie’s home life was chaotic, possibly even abusive, but none could claim that they’d stepped in to help in any way.
Then it was Dan’s turn to take the stand and explain who he was and the kind of work he’d carried out with Archie since his arrest. Marcy was sure she detected an air of incredulity about the jury as they listened, as though they’d never heard of restorative justice before and weren’t too sure what to make of it.
It was after lunch that Gordon Lock stood up to inform the jury of how unusual it was for the defense counsel to call someone who would ordinarily have been a witness for the prosecution.
“There is no doubt,” he expounded, fixing them with his hawk-like eyes, “that Ms. Kavanagh was grievously harmed in the fire, as you will see when she takes the stand. That tragic reality is not being contested here today. What we are going to examine is whether or not the defendant acted recklessly so as to endanger life.”
He took a moment to glance down at his notes. “Normal procedure,” he continued, “would be for me to question Ms. Kavanagh about the night of the fire and what she remembers about it. Instead she is going to tell you of the experience in her own words, and at the same time she will offer you an insight into how she views the events—and the defendant. I would ask you to keep in mind as she speaks how difficult it is for someone with injuries such as she has to allow themselves to be exposed to your scrutiny.” He turned to the judge. “Thank you for your indulgence in this matter, your honor, and now I call Ms. Marcy Kavanagh to the stand.”
As Marcy was escorted to the witness box and handed the Bible, she’d never felt so conspicuous or nervous in her life. There was a sickening dread inside her, a shake to her hands, and the stares from all quarters were overpowering. As she swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, she was aware above all of Archie’s eyes on her. No doubt he was wondering if she’d got his letter and if she had why she was doing this. She wanted to look at him, to try to communicate with him on some level, but by the time she raised her eyes his head was down.
Don’t give up, she willed him. Dan has already said his piece, and now I’m going to do what I can to try and win these people over.
Feeling a dry, painful throbbing through the left side of her face as if it were coming alive to its limelight, she turned to the jury. Her notes were in her hand if she needed them, and she felt certain she would.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, surprising herself with how clear and even strong her voice sounded, not at all the way she was feeling, “thank you for listening to what I have to say today. As Mr. Lock has already told you, it’s unusual for someone in my position to speak up for the person who’s caused them harm, but this is what I am going to do.
“I will admit to you that for quite a long time after the fire, when I was hospitalized and suffering terrible pain, I wished nothing but ill to the person who’d started it. I’m sure I felt much the same as anyone would after almost losing their life as they knew it and their home, and whose family had been caused so much distress. When I was told he’d been arrested I wanted him to pay in the severest of ways for what he’d done. And yes, there was a part of me that wanted to set fire to him, so he would experience the agony and devastation of full-thickness burns for himself.”
She cleared her throat and touched a hand lightly to her mouth. “You’ve already heard about the restorative justice process from Dan Collier, and it probably won’t surprise you to hear that my family and I would have been utterly repelled by the suggestion of engaging with our attacker, had it been presented to us at any other time than it was. In fact, I believe we would have remained completely resistant to it had I not been given letters written to me by Archie Colbrook, explaining who he is and how he came to try to burn down our house.”
She hadn’t expected those words to cause a small murmur in the room, so she paused, trying to gauge what it meant, until Gordon Lock nodded for her to continue.
“As I read about Archie in his own words, I gained an insight into a world that I knew very little of, although we hear about it on the news, of course. It just doesn’t usually have much to do with our own existence. His is the kind of world where poverty and corruption are realities, not just news stories, and where it’s hard for children to flourish even with two parents. Archie has only a mother who loves him very much, as he does her.
“So, through these letters our attacker was coming into a different sort of focus. He was no longer an evil stranger who had appeared from nowhere to try and destroy us, he was a person, a boy really, who’d been exploited and forced into crime at a very young age. He might have had the courage to try and resist his handlers, as he calls them, and to get on with his schooling, but for the threats made to his vulnerable mother. She was even beaten in front of him if he didn’t agree to do as they wanted.”
She took a breath, and sipped from the glass of water in front of her. “I believe,” she continued, “that were it not for the man who exerted the most malevolent power over him that Archie would have gained the education he needed, and wanted. You’ve heard about his potential and willingness to learn, so who knows what he could have achieved with the right opportunities. He might even have found a way to get himself and his mother out of the negative environment they were in.
“Unfortunately, it didn’t happen. He remained trapped in the grip of a man from whom he had to defend himself and his mother in any way he could. It was to try and keep his mother from harm that he carried out the trafficking that was forced on him, whether it was drugs, weapons, or mobile phones. Then one day he was ordered to break into a house to steal an attaché case believed to be inside. That house was—is—mine and my daughter’s. My granddaughter also lives with us. When he broke in Archie was unable to find the case and that was when he was instructed to burn the place down.”
She needed to give herself a moment now, for she wasn’t really connecting with the rest of the courtroom any longer, only with what she was saying, and possibly with Archie.
“Before I say any more about the arson,” she continued, “I want to tell you about the way Archie’s letters seemed to unlock something inside me. Until I read them my psychological recovery hadn’t been going well. I was unable to relate fully to my family, or to anyone else. I had difficulty finding words, so for the most part I stopped trying. I understood that I was suffering the after-effects of trauma, but even so I remained shut down. I couldn’t see the point of trying to release myself when I looked the way I did. I was no longer me on the outside, and every time I looked in the mirror I felt sure I could never be the same on the inside either.
“I can’t really explain why having contact with the person who’d caused me so much harm became the catalyst for the next stage of my recovery, I can only tell you that it did. Perhaps it was because I realized that hating him and wishing him harm was never going to help me; it was simply going to continue to make me less of a person than I’d been before. I was moved enough by his letters to see him as a young man who wasn’t only sorry for what he’d done, but who, like me, was a victim of those who’d ordered the fire, and who, again like me, was probably going to suffer the consequences of it for the rest of his life. He had a conscience and he had a mother, and that made him so much more than just an arsonist.”
Sipping more water, she took another glance at her notes and raised her head. “I am fully persuaded,” she said, “that when Archie Colbrook acted that night it was with no malice toward me and my family. In fact, I believe without reservation that when he claims that he watched the house beforehand to make sure we’d left, he is speaking the truth. We did leave, but because I was unwell we only got to the end of the drive before I decided to go back.
“It is perfectly possible that Archie didn’t see me return. It was dark, and if he was at the back of the house it would have been impossible for him to know what was happening at the front. Also, when I went inside I didn’t turn on any more lights. We’d left some on, so there was nothing to alert him to the fact that anything had changed.
“What I’m saying is that I don’t believe he acted with a reckless disregard for human life. It’s the person who wanted the attaché case who should be held to account for this crime, but we aren’t able to do that here, today. Please don’t think I’m saying that Archie shouldn’t also be held to account, he is the one who set the fire and though I know he deeply regrets it, he understands very well that he has to bear responsibility for it. This is why he has pleaded guilty to the first count of arson. He is not trying to run away from what he’s done, unlike those who are hiding behind him.”
She took another glance at her notes and looked at the jury again. “I will end now by saying that I strongly believe in the power of forgiveness, and in meeting Archie and forgiving him I have learned how positive that has been for my mental health. I’ve also learned how important it is to hear the other side of a story: to find out who someone is and why they behaved the way they did. Now, when I think of Archie I think of a young lad who had a difficult start in life, but who would have achieved so much given the right opportunities—and perhaps he still could, given the right outcome from this trial. Finding him not guilty on the second count could give him a belief in the justice system, and also a belief in himself that will enable him to turn his life around.
“I’m told that copies of the letters he wrote to me will be made available for you to read when you leave the court to deliberate your verdict. As you get to know him in his own words, as I did, I hope you’ll agree that his honesty speaks to his integrity, and that his remorse is as present in the very fact that these letters exist as it is in what he says. It took as much courage for him to engage in the restorative justice process as it did for me. I am glad I did, and I know that he is too. It has given me a lasting belief in the power of compassion and in redemption. Thank you for listening.”
The room fell into silence, and she wondered if anyone could hear her heart pounding. For a bizarre moment it sounded as though someone started to applaud, but it suddenly stopped. She looked at the prosecutor, waiting for him to get to his feet to start taking apart everything she’d said. He probably wouldn’t do it in a cruel or aggressive way, she’d been advised, as that wouldn’t get the jury onside, but it was their job to secure a conviction for the endangerment of life, and the true letter of the law said that they should have one.
Finally, the bewigged and bespectacled middle-aged man rose from his chair and announced to the judge that he had no questions. Marcy blinked and looked at Gordon Lock, who gave a brief nod. A moment later she was being escorted from the witness box.
It was over. She’d said what she wanted to say, told Archie that he was worth fighting for, and now she was ready to go home.