“You’re up, Mr. Hartmann,” the judge said.
“I have no questions for this witness, Your Honor.”
A ripple of shock went through her. She had just demolished the core of his case, and he had no questions? Dr. Cosgrove stood, then hesitated, unsure what to do next. Renée had warned her Adam’s cross-examination would be brutal. It was inconceivable she would be dismissed without a single question.
“That will be all, Dr. Cosgrove. Thank you,” Judge Hirabayashi said. She nodded and left the room.
“We’re back to you, Ms. François,” the judge said.
Renée glanced at Rose. “Are you ready?” she whispered. The older woman nodded, though she was as stiff as a marble statue. Renée felt a deep unease, but there was no time to think and nothing else to do. “We call Rose Fleurie, Your Honor.”
Rose shuffled to the stand, and the law clerk swore her in. Renée approached with stone butterflies clomping in her stomach. She hadn’t been this nervous since her first trial. “Ms. Fleurie, can you tell us—”
“It is my fault. I am responsible for the lost soul of that little girl.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
A Well-Founded Fear
For a moment, the sound of fans whirring overhead was as loud as the propellers of an airplane. No one said a word or even breathed. Renée felt frozen in place, held in the grip of a spell too powerful to cast off.
A trickle of tears ran down Rose’s cheek to form a shallow puddle in the dip of her clavicles. The sight was enough to pull Renée out of her stupor. “You mustn’t—”
Judge Hirabayashi waved her to silence. “What did you say, Ms. Fleurie?” he asked, clearly doubting his own hearing.
“Your Honor,” Adam crowed, “Petitioner confessed to a horrible crime. Her admission surely resolves this matter. We cannot grant asylum to a murderer.”
Judge Hirabayashi took off his glasses and turned the full weight of those dark eyes on Adam. “Mr. Hartmann?”
“Yes, Your Honor?”
“I don’t want to hear another word from you unless I give you permission to speak. Have I made myself clear?”
Adam swallowed hard. “Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge turned to Rose. “Please continue, Ms. Fleurie.”
“I must advise my client to remain silent.” Renée stared pointedly at Rose. What the hell was the woman up to? “She has a right not to incriminate herself.”
“Ms. François, I’m issuing the same edict to you as I did to Mr. Hartmann: not another word.”
“Your Honor, my client has a right to the effective assistance of counsel. I can’t—”
“Not another word, Ms. François. Understood?”
She nodded curtly. It never paid to get on the wrong side of a judge. In any case, it wasn’t clear her argument had legal merit. She was asserting a constitutional right where the president of the United States claimed the Constitution didn’t apply.
“My apologies for these interruptions, Ms. Fleurie,” the judge said. “I promise, it won’t happen again. Please continue.”
Rose spoke with a quaver in her voice. “I was given a baby girl to protect, and I failed her. It was my fault.” She sank back against her seat, deflated.
Judge Hirabayashi stared at her in bemusement. “I’m afraid we need more than that, Ms. Fleurie. What little girl are you talking about?” Rose remained stubbornly quiet. The judge turned his gaze on Renée. “Counselor?”
“Am I allowed to speak now, Your Honor?” She couldn’t resist the small dig, but the judge merely nodded. She walked back to her table and grabbed one of the photographs sitting on top of her file. Rose’s odd behavior was finally beginning to make sense. “I believe my client is referring to this little girl who was on the boat with her. The child’s name was Eléne Guillaume.”
She handed the photograph to Judge Hirabayashi. He shuddered at the sight of a once vibrant five-year-old girl reduced to an algae-ridden corpse.
“It was my fault,” Rose said in a monotone. “God help me, it was my fault.”
“No,” Renée said, though her attention was aimed at the bench. “Judge, as we learned from Dr. Cosgrove’s uncontroverted testimony, Ms. Fleurie could not have been responsible for Eléne Guillaume’s death.”
Judge Hirabayashi stared at something behind her. Renée turned to find Adam waving his hand like an errant schoolboy. “Yes, Mr. Hartmann?” the judge said.
Adam cleared his throat and tried to look dignified. “Judge, while we do not contest Dr. Cosgrove’s testimony, there is nothing to indicate Eléne Guillaume voluntarily drank that water. In light of Ms. Fleurie’s confession, it’s perfectly reasonable to assume this woman forced the child to drink seawater knowing it would kill her.”
“Your Honor—” Renée started to object, but Judge Hirabayashi waved a silencing hand.
“It’s a fair point, Ms. François. We don’t have enough information either way.” He tapped on the photograph to draw Rose’s attention. “Ms. Fleurie, can you tell us what happened to this little girl?”
“Papa Bondye, I could not do the job you asked of me. It was my fault.” Rose spoke softly, but everyone heard her.
Renée felt a wave of helplessness overtake her. How was she supposed to defend her client when the woman insisted it was her fault? Maybe Rose had forced Eléne to drink seawater?
But when she looked at the trembling woman on the stand, Renée didn’t see a cold-blooded murderer. Rose helped her heal—and not just in her ribs. She’d also helped Luis and had tried to help Yvette.
Rose was a healer, not a murderer.
She put a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “Please Rose, tell us what happened to Eléne Guillaume.”
The touch of another human being seemed to pull Rose out of her nightmare. She blinked at Renée. “Koman?”
“Eléne. What happened to her?”
“Eléne?” Rose’s brow furrowed in either concentration or confusion, it was impossible to tell. She licked dry lips and said, “Eléne was the daughter of one of the maids at the National Palace. She was with me the night the soldiers came.”
Renée stayed silent, allowing her client’s memories to unfurl in their own time.
“That night, the night of the coup, we heard many stories,” Rose said. “It was hard to know what to believe. One moment all was well, and the next everything had fallen apart. Raoul Cédras, the head of the army, came on the radio and said it was time for the military to ‘assume the heavy responsibility of keeping the ship of state afloat.’ I did not know what he meant, but many others did.
“The army and police came out in his support. Then the guns and tanks started firing all over Port-au-Prince.” Rose covered her ears, as if she could still hear the terrible echo. “We knew the military would soon come. We began to make preparations. I hid Eléne in a cabinet in one of the far rooms of the palace. I thought she would be safe.”
Rose looked helpless and lost. Renée had never seen her like that, but all she could do was pat the older woman’s arm.
“We heard on the radio that the military had fired on Aristide’s residence on the other side of Port-au-Prince, but the president was alive. He’d managed to escape in an armored tank, and he was making his way to the palace. We had hope. We thought if the president was in the National Palace, the soldiers could not fire on us. We were wrong.
“Aristide was at the palace gate when they overtook him. A mob rushed inside. We tried to fight them, but all we had were knives and sharpened sticks. They had many large guns—the battle was not so hard for them.
“In the confusion, I ran to find Eléne. I ran as fast as I could, but I was already too late. When I walked in . . .” Rose’s voice trailed off and tears streamed down her cheeks. “The cabinet where I hid her was open, and there were twenty-two dead bodies stacked in that room. The women were naked and bloody, and the men were without arms or eyes.
“I could not find Eléne in that pile of blood and bones. I lost hop
e. But then, I heard a tiny movement in the corner of the room. I ran there and pushed my way through the bodies. There was Eléne, buried beneath her mother. I thought the child was dead too, but I found that I could . . . I helped her.
“The mob left and took Aristide with them. They threatened to kill him, but he was lucky. The Americans stepped in, and so did the French and the Venezuelans. The army spared Aristide’s life.” Her mouth twisted with a hint of bitterness. “We were left to care for ourselves. I strapped Eléne on my back and ran.”
“Where did you go?” Renée asked.
“We escaped to the countryside. The next day, I found Eléne’s people. We stayed with them for several weeks. They were hurt and angry for what had happened to their family. When the Vatican became the only foreigners to recognize Cédras’s government, their anger exploded. They were good Catholics, but they believed the Pope had rewarded Cédras for terrorizing a little girl and killing her mother.
“They began to talk about what had happened at the palace. They told their neighbors, reporters, anyone who would listen. It wasn’t long before the soldiers came looking for us.”
“Is that when you found a boat to leave the country?” Renée asked.
Rose nodded. “I thought Papa Bondye wanted me to save that little girl, but that was not the job I was sent to do.”
They were venturing into dangerous territory. Renée quickly redirected her client’s testimony. “Did you ever force Eléne to drink seawater?”
“No,” Rose said sharply. “We wandered on the ocean for over a week. The man driving our boat did not know what he was doing. We were without food, and we had little water. We were all so tired, and hot, and thirsty. The people began to drink the ocean’s water. I begged them not to, but they did not listen. When I tried to stop them, they said I was cruel and wanted them to die. They knocked me down, and I passed out. They must have given Eléne seawater then. I did not know. When our boat overturned, she was too sick to fight. They were all too sick.”
Blinking back tears, Renée asked a question that was more personal than professional. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was my fault,” Rose said quietly.
Renée wanted to object to the guilt Rose shouldered. It was not her fault—this woman needed healing just as much as the people she’d healed. But a courtroom was not the place for that discussion. “I have nothing further, Your Honor.”
Judge Hirabayashi cleared his throat. “Questions, Mr. Hartmann?”
“I do.” Adam’s chair scraped the floor as he rose and waited, with seeming politeness, for Renée to regain her seat. As she did so, he gave her a smirk. He was going to enjoy this.
He buttoned his jacket and strode to the witness stand. “Ellen Guillaume would be alive today but for your interference. Isn’t that right, Ms. Fleurie?”
Rose stared at him as if he was one of the pesky flies that buzzed the skies of Guantanamo. “We die when it is our time.”
“You’re not afraid of death?”
“No.”
“In that case, why run? Why not stay and fight for your country?”
Rose shrugged. “I have work to do elsewhere.”
“Work? What kind of work?”
Renée tensed. They were back in murky waters. Rose seemed to recognize the danger, she tried to speak, but no words came.
“Are you talking about that black magic you practice?” Adam said.
Renée shot up. “Objection, Your Honor. Vodou isn’t—”
“Do you practice Voodoo?” Adam demanded over Renée’s objection.
“Your Honor—”
“Mr. Hartmann—”
“I serve the Spirits.” Rose’s words were softly spoken but carried a dignity that rang through the courtroom.
There was silence for one beat, then another. Finally, Judge Hirabayashi said, “Mr. Hartmann, there is an objection on the floor. You will hold your question until I rule.”
“Looks like she beat you to it, Judge,” Adam said with a satisfied grin.
Renée longed to slap that look off his face, but she focused on the judge. “Your Honor, I must object to Mr. Hartmann’s characterization of Vodou as ‘black magic.’ It is a religion, and Ms. Fleurie has the unfettered right to practice her religion.”
“Noted, Ms. François,” Judge Hirabayashi said. “You may continue, Mr. Hartmann, but tread carefully.”
Adam loomed above Rose. “These . . . Spirits you claim to serve, are they the same ones who told you to attack your employer and cut off his testicles?”
“Objection!” Renée flew out of her seat. “Where’s this coming from? Mr. Hartmann has produced no evidence to support his allegation.”
“I have a signed affidavit.” Adam strode to his table and pulled out a document, handing her a copy. He practically skipped back to the witness stand.
Renée scanned the document. Her heart sank. “This is hearsay testimony.”
“The affiant is not available,” Adam said. “Mr. Destin is terminally ill. In his affidavit, he swears to the petitioner’s barbaric actions, which are apparently quite well known in Haiti.”
Pierre had turned his rage on Rose. The man had lost everything—his home, his wife, his health—who could blame him for lashing out? But while Renée might sympathize, her duty was to her client. “Judge, these are serious allegations. My client should have the opportunity to cross-examine her accuser.”
Judge Hirabayashi ignored her. “Is it true, Ms. Fleurie? Did you attack your employer?”
Renée wanted to object once more, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. She could only hold her breath and stare at Rose, who had turned her full attention on the judge.
“Yes, sir. I did.”
“Why?”
“Because he hurt me.” There was no mistaking the meaning of her words.
“How long ago was this?”
“1963.”
Judge Hirabayashi stared at her long and hard, then nodded. “Move it along, Mr. Hartmann.”
“Is that how you react when someone makes you angry?”
“I said move it along, Mr. Hartmann.”
Adam ran a hand through his hair, restoring its customary shagginess. “Did Eric Higgins make you angry?”
“Who’s that?” the judge asked.
“He was a bellhop at the Pearl of the Antilles. He was murdered a few days ago.”
“You have evidence Ms. Fleurie was involved?”
“She’s clearly got a temper.”
Even the law clerk shot Adam a baleful glance. “We’re done here, Mr. Hartmann,” the judge said.
Adam slunk back to his seat. Renée couldn’t believe it was over until Judge Hirabayashi said to Rose, “Thank you, Ms. Fleurie. You may be seated.” Rose returned to her seat.
The judge took off his glasses and polished them with a snow-white handkerchief. “‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.’ Do you know how often those words from Emma Lazarus’s famous poem have been flung at me? Men and women show up to my courtroom every day begging for the kind of mercy that poem offers, but I can’t give it to them. The truth is no country can afford to take all the world’s huddled masses. We have to prioritize.”
Judge Hirabayashi slid on his glasses and continued, “We are a nation of laws. We look to our lawmakers to set our priorities, and Congress has done so in this case. Congress decreed we give assistance to refugees fleeing persecution and those with a well-founded fear of persecution. In the case of Haitians, the INS has failed to live up to its obligations.
“On this stretch of land far from the watchful eyes of the American people, the INS, by its own admission, has set up an ad hoc procedure that is nowhere authorized by Federal law. It is a process that singles out Haitians for differing treatment. Unlike other refugee applicants, Guantanamo Haitians are deprived of the procedural safeguards and guarantees to which they would be entitled if they were in the United States.
“They ar
e detained in custody and are not free to leave or to go to a third country. They are deprived of any opportunity to consult lawyers or advocates, and the United States may forcibly repatriate them to their country of origin. They are also subjected to medical screening and HIV testing, which are not done in other cases and are not relevant to asylum determinations. In my view, the INS is in violation of US law.”
“With all due respect, Your Honor,” Adam’s words dripped with contempt, “this court has no power to review the legality of the INS’s ad hoc procedures.”
Judge Hirabayashi shook his head. “Son, you might know something about the law, but you know nothing about justice.”
“I know that—”
“In this instance, you happen to be correct,” Judge Hirabayashi interrupted. “I do not have the authority to dismantle these procedures, no matter how I might wish otherwise. But I can do this.”
He turned and spoke directly to Rose. “Ms. Fleurie, you have my sincerest apologies for the way my government has treated you. By your testimony, you have established a well-founded fear of persecution should you be returned to your country of origin. Accordingly, it is my determination that you be immediately screened into the United States, where you will be granted asylum until such time as it is safe to go home.”
“But, Your Honor—” Adam sputtered.
“We’re done here.” Judge Hirabayashi stormed out of the room with his law clerk fast at his heels.
Adam wasted no time turning his rage on Renée. “Don’t think this is over. I intend to appeal.”
“On what grounds?” she demanded.
“Everyone knows Hirabayashi’s family was sent to the Japanese internment camps in World War II. He’s biased. I don’t know why they’d put a guy like that on this case.”
Before Renée could fire back, Gigi appeared at Adam’s side. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, and disappointment etched her brow. Despite her friend’s obvious pain, Renée was heartened that Gigi was seeing her fiancé for the man he was.
“What are you doing?” Gigi asked.
Adam’s face crumbled. “Sweetheart, I’m just . . . Judge Hirabayashi’s decision is a travesty. It won’t be allowed to stand.”
When Death Comes for You Page 22
