February 3, 1969

“Can you explain to me how a son of a bitch like Wright could live with himself?” demanded Sabbatino. A small tape recorder on Joe Brill’s desk played—for the second time—the tapes Marty had turned over to them. Judge Tauber’s gaze was fixed on the tape player, his head shaking slowly in disbelief. “These tapes confirm just what your son said all along, Judge. He never put together a phony defense for Rainone. He told him he couldn’t take the stand.”

“It’s outright subornation of perjury,” Brill said gravely.

“No question about that,” agreed Sabbatino. “It’s unbelievable that a lawyer could do something like this, jeopardize a judge’s career, another lawyer’s license.”

“I’m just glad that Boxer is a man who still has some conscience,” said Judge Tauber.

“What do you think about Boxer’s part in this?” Brill asked Sabbatino.

“I go along with the judge. He wanted us to have these tapes all along. Wright was the one who held the whole thing up.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“My opinion,” said Sabbatino, “is that we should be very calm, do nothing precipitous. We make our motions. When this indictment is thrown out—as it must be—Wright’s going to look like one hell of a fool.”

“More than a fool,” added Brill. “A dishonest, treacherous creature, capable of anything for his own glory. He takes the world’s fame and glory as if it’s real.”

“You know, Joe,” the judge said thoughtfully, “since the indictment, I’ve had plenty of time on my hands. I watched and listened as my life, my son’s life, slowly disintegrated in the poisonous atmosphere of the indictment. I’d rather my leisure hadn’t been forced upon me so violently. That part of it has been a nightmare. But I guess without it I wouldn’t have taken the time to think, to reflect. You get so tied up in work, getting ahead, prestige, you don’t realize certain things.”

“Like?” Sabbatino asked. The binding pressure of the case having been eased, the three lawyers were relaxed.

“Like the fact that we’re just people,” the judge said. “That may not sound too profound, but it’s something people in demanding, responsible positions tend to lose sight of. As judges, and trial lawyers, we get so involved in our day-in, day-out activities, they become the important force in our lives. And that constant work, those activities, a little at a time, build a shell up around us, until our work is all we’re involved in. We lose touch with the reality that our so-called important tasks are so meaningless in the crucible of time. Take me, for instance, a Supreme Court judge …”

“And a good judge,” Brill added.

“Good or bad, suddenly I’m indicted, I’m suspended from the bench. Who am I now? A leper. People I’ve known for years see me in the street and walk the other way, friends avoid me. Who am I? Who had I thought I was? Oh, the black robes surround you with a feeling of power and importance. But that’s so fleeting, so ephemeral. In the face of nature, reality, eternity, it’s nothing. We’re all just nothing.”

“That’s not a very positive note” said Sabbatino.

“It really is, Peter. Because when you get past this fantasy you’ve been feeding yourself about how important you are, how important your work is, you suddenly see yourself clearly in reference to the rest of the world, the rest of humanity.”

“And?” wondered Brill.

“And maybe that’s when a person can get back his compassion.” The judge lit a cigar, the flame at the end of the match leaping high as he puffed. He sat back, crossing one leg over the other. “There was a time when I was full of piss and vinegar. When I was young, first starting out. There was only black and white, no gray. And I was going to lick the world.”

“We all were.”

“True enough,” the judge smiled. “And then we get a little older and a little jaded, too taken up with all our tasks to take much notice of things. And we get to thinking that when we were young, full of those grand ideals, we were just unrealistic, too inexperienced to realize what the real world is like.”

Brill and Sabbatino were listening attentively.

“Well, with this indictment, I’ve had time to realize that our petty careers, our twenty years on the bench, our pensions, are nothing. Babylon, a city of a million people, disappeared, along with everything that was in it, into the desert sands. All that remains of it are a couple of stone tablets. Who knows if there were twenty Babylons before Babylon, that have disappeared into the same desert, that were literally wiped from the face of the earth? There were rich men in those cultures, and judges, and lawyers. And they all might have thought their lives, their functions were important beyond measure. But what do all their pretensions mean now?”

The judge blew out a plume of smoke, which drifted silently toward the ceiling.

“And when that worldly importance is lost, maybe the only thing that’s really important is an awareness of the next person’s frailty and humanity. We should look at the next person we see on the street and realize he’s in the same boat, struggling just to get through the world. Stepping over people, on people, to get ahead, that’s ridiculous. In the crucible of time, there’s no place to go, nothing to accomplish that can’t or won’t disappear. So we might as well be compassionate to each other. That’s where J.T. Wright comes in. He’s a classic example of someone whose values are totally warped. He still thinks this game, all the trappings of worldly gain and glory, are for real. He doesn’t realize how ridiculous, how transient, all his treachery is.”

“Sic transit gloria mundi,” said Sabbatino abstractly.

The three of them were silent, wistful.

“Speaking of treachery, we still have this indictment to deal with,” said Brill lightly, bringing them back into focus.

“Boxer said that Wright agreed to turn over the tapes,” Sabbatino said.

“I don’t believe that for a moment,” said Brill. “He’s probably just trying to save Wright’s election chances, hoping that we won’t make waves at a press conference.”

“That’s probably true,” said the judge. “But I think we ought to respect Boxer’s wishes. He certainly wasn’t looking to hurt us.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t use these tapes to get your indictment thrown out?”

“Of course we should. We just don’t have to go out of our way to get publicity. We’ll just make whatever motions are appropriate, as you said, and the rest will take care of itself.”

“When we make the motion, and the indictment is thrown out,” said Brill, “the newspapers will pick it up all by themselves. We won’t have to go out of our way.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” said the judge. “It will all work out by itself. Mr. Wright will get what he deserves without us having to lift a finger.”

“Let’s get going,” Sabbatino said anxiously.