by CW Ullman
She blurted out, “She kept me alive! She kept US alive!”
“Your Honor, I’m finished with the witness,” Lek interjected.
“She took beatings for us,” Di.u cried. “She was eleven…ELEVEN! No one could have done what she did…what she went through…what she endured…she never asked us for anything…She made us smile when there was nothing to smile about…she gave us string…she gave us string.” Through Di.u’s sobs she whispered to My Ling, “You gave us string.”
Sitting with the others on the campus of Assumption University, Dao was crying watching her tormented little sister sobbing on the stand. Dao reached for the television screen to touch her sister’s image, realizing she and My Ling were the only other people who knew what Di.u meant: My Ling had given them string to play Cat’s Cradle.
“We’ll take a short recess,” Judge Ukrit ordered. “The witness may step down.”
My Ling ran to embrace a crouching, sobbing Di.u who could not stand under the weight of her agony. My Ling wrapped Di.u in her arms and took her to a chair. She held Di.u’s head against her neck. Di.u sobbed and My Ling cried, both sitting in the same chair
“I’m so sorry to have to put you through this, Di.u. I am so sorry,” My Ling whispered. My Ling’s apology made Di.u cry even more.
My Ling saw the trial spinning out of control. This was supposed to be about Montri and his heinous deeds. Di.u and My Ling were going to give eye witness accounts of his horrendous exploits and the country would rise up and prevent children from being harmed. Instead, My Ling was portrayed as a manipulative liar who pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes and then robbed and killed Montri after a chance meeting. She feared that the moral high ground was being claimed by the prosecutor. She chided herself for being so stupid and arrogant thinking that she held the upper hand. Then Di.u whispered through her tears a name she had learned over twenty years ago.
“I’m not a fellow girl.”
“What?” My Ling asked.
“I’m not a fellow girl. I could have done better,” Di.u added.
“No. You are a fellow girl, and we will do better. We will be better prepared,” My Ling said as she guided Di.u out of the courtroom. She motioned to Somchai that she wanted to speak with him. Once inside a holding room she confronted Somchai.
“You have to break the freight train of questioning from Rattanakosin. You need to object more often,” My Ling demanded.
“Upon cross I can rehabilitate our defense. I wanted the crown to play their best hand and we just saw it. Be patient, don’t lose hope,” Somchai encouraged.
She had lost hope and feared the years of planning had been for naught. The mission was sitting on the shoulders of a defense attorney who she now saw as having passion and heart for defending the afflicted, but not the skill.
“My Ling this is the darkness before the dawn,” Somchai offered.
“Don’t give me hackneyed platitudes, Somchai. Give me a defense!” she yelled, then walked to a waiting car with Di.u and left.
The following morning the prosecutor put on the stand a series of witnesses attesting to the goodness of Montri. Incurring glares from My Ling, Somchai questioned very few of the witnesses, except to ask how long they had known Montri. She wanted Somchai to attack the witnesses, so she nudged him under the table. He ignored her.
The prosecutor, feeling comfortable that he had presented Montri in a good light and My Ling as a lying murderous thief, rested his case. Judge Ukrit asked Somchai if they were ready to give their defense.
“We are Your Honor. I would like to call back to the stand Di.u Ly,” Somchai stated. Judge Ukrit reminded Di.u she was still under oath.
Somchai shuffled some papers at his table, stood up, looked at Di.u, and paced slowly up to the witness box. “I would like you to tell the court about your mother, Miss Ly.”
The prosecutor immediately objected, “Your Honor Miss Ly’s mother is not relevant to the murder of Mr. Montri.”
“Your Honor, My Ling Nyguen never told Miss Ly or the other girls what was happening because Miss Ly’s mother asked her not to. At the time of these incidents, Mrs. Nyguen was eleven and was guided by the advice of a woman old enough to be her mother. This woman was one of two adults in the cargo hold. I think it’s important that the court know about this woman.”
“Objection overruled, go ahead Mr. Neelaphaijit,” Judge Ukrit ordered.
“Please tell us about you mother, Miss Ly,” Somchai directed.
“My mother’s name was Binh…” Di.u’s feelings welled up, tears formed, and Di.u stopped to compose herself. She whispered, “Be a fellow girl.”
The judge asked, “What was that?”
“When I have a hard task to complete or things get tough, I always tell myself to be a fellow girl…be brave,” Di.u explained.
The native people, who had traveled hundreds of miles, who had camped in the rain, and endured the worst of hardships heard “fellow girl” and cheered knowing its meaning. In fields with loud speakers, on the street looking at televisions through picture windows, and from their cars they also cheered.
“When I don’t want to cry, I remember that I need to be a fellow girl,” Di.u finished. The judge smiled and ordered her to proceed.
“My mother was always protective of me and my sister. If my parents were going to argue, she had us leave the room because she did not want us to see it. Whenever there was something unsettling, she covered our eyes. It would be just like my mother to always put on her best face if anything bad was happening to her,” Di.u’s soft facial expression, triggered by the memory of Binh brought tears to My Ling’s eyes.
“Dao told me our mother, Ha, and My Ling were being mistreated when they left the room. Dao encouraged me not to cry or whine when Mother came back because it would make it harder on Mother,” Di.u added.
“Montri wanted not just My Ling as a virgin, but all of the girls, because he thought it would bring more money when he sold us to Mr. Pok. My mother once came back to our room with a swollen cheek and black and blue marks on her throat. I asked her what happened and she said she fell down. She didn’t want us to worry,” Di.u stopped and stared vacantly out into the room. “Can you imagine...?”
The room was caught in Di.u’s reverie. The people watching were barely able to conjure the humiliations suffered and the courage to cover them up so as to spare someone else’s feelings.
“He killed her. Montri killed my mother and for what? Why?” Di.u wondered.
“Objection, hearsay,” Lek pronounced.
“I’ll allow it.” Judge Ukrit encouraged Di.u, “Go ahead.”
“When My Ling told me Montri killed my mother, I was really mad at My Ling, because she had lied about it for the longest time, because she knew we wouldn’t handle it well and she was afraid our reaction would cause Mr. Pok to beat us,” Di.u explained.
“Objection, conjecture your honor,” Lek protested.
“Overruled.”
“He did hurt us. He held us under water when we complained. Once he almost drowned Huyen. We weren’t even allowed to grieve our mother’s death, because we were so afraid we’d make Mr. Pok angry,” Di.u related. “When I grew older I surmised what happened to my mother on the other side of that cargo door. It didn’t happen just once either; it happened over, and over, and over…every day for two months.”
“Objection, conjecture,” Lek complained.
Before Judge Ukrit could answer, Di.u responded in a soft voice, “I wish it were conjecture, but I saw it…She would come in and try to act like nothing bad had happened, but more than once I saw it, and when I got older I realized what it was.”
“What?” Somchai inquired.
“Sperm. It was on the back of her head, and as a five year old not knowing what it was, I wanted to point it out, but my sister, Dao pulled my hand down and motioned to be quiet,” Di.u was sanguine and paused before going on. “…I don’t know if Montri was actually involved, but the men on the ship wer
e…his ship. He allowed it to happen. Then he killed my mother…My mother did whatever he wanted to protect us…and then he killed her…he killed my mother.”
Di.u looked at My Ling for an extended time, then up at the judge. She sat back in her chair and slowly, a sneer came to her face. “I would have killed him had I the chance. I’m glad she shot him multiple times. You can’t kill bastards like that enough.”
The court room laughed.
“Objection!” Lek sprung to his feet.
“Sustained,” Judge Ukrit pronounced, while gaveling the sounding block.
“Order.” Then the judge recessed for the day.
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At Assumption University the planning committee conversed about the trial and the final round. Tomorrow would have My Ling on the stand, final arguments, and then the court’s decision. Everyone involved in this case wondered what the verdict would be and how the crowd would react.
Sister Marie Celeste was busy feeding and caring for the people. Charlie tried to talk with her, but the only thing he learned was she was not returning to America. She had found her mission in life working with Tuyen Mam at Lotus Blossom.
“God works in strange ways. Every day that I am here, that I do this work, I atone for my sins,” Sister Celeste philosophized. “The Lord keeps me so busy, keeps my mind so engaged, that I have no time to think about what I’ve done or my problems. Instead, I have to listen to others instead of listening to myself.”
“I’m glad this thing is wrapping up,” Mike Wellington remarked to Charlie. “We’re coming to the end of the funds. The boys from Tulsa have to get back to their jobs and families.”
Charlie found Ronnie who said he would stay with the Lotus Blossom for the foreseeable future to help with security and work with Thanh. Like Sister Celeste, he had found a place to make a difference and felt good about being a liaison between the orphanage and organizations in Los Angeles’ South Bay.
Gaston, Curtis, and Carlos were leaving soon after the verdict was read. Curtis and Carolos were at the end of their sabbaticals from TRW and the Los Angeles Sheriffs Department and Gaston needed to get back to the restaurant and teaching.
“You started this whole thing,” Charlie reminded Gaston. He kidded, “You had to open your big mouth at the fire ring.”
Gaston laughed, then added, “The next step is for some of theses people to step up and become leaders. I don’t know if that’s going to happen.”
“What do you mean?” Charlie offered.
“Honestly, Charlie, it’s got to be more than just My Ling and her daughter. They can inspire, but natives from this gathering have to stand up for themselves. Otherwise this turns into India after the British left.”
Rusty needed to talk with Charlie, “What do you think?”
“About what?” Charlie asked.
“The trial, the crowd, My Ling; what are you going to do? What should we do? What should I do? Are -,” Rusty was interrupted by Charlie.
“Whoa. I’m probably going back to the U.S. when the dust settles.” Charlie stated.
“If she’s convicted I’ll probably go home and come back periodically to see her. If she gets off…I don’t know,” Rusty mused. “Darla and Tobie miss me and I miss them. Should I talk with My Ling?”
“I believe the biggest day of her life is happening tomorrow and I wouldn’t distract her,” Charlie suggested.
Charlie wandered the campgrounds feeling like he was at the Monterey Pop Festival of 1967. Here was a throng of people, some playing music, others selling trinkets and coincidentally, Theresa not far away. He surveyed the throng and wondered who amongst this vast multitude would take the reigns of leadership to change things? Or would they just go back to their homes and tell stories? Would My Ling and her daughter become religious figures like Moses? Is that what happens now, people have to wander in the desert to find impetus for change?
Charlie encountered Thanh who was in similar thought.
“Where does it go from here?” Charlie asked.
“This is exactly the same conclusion my brother came to,” Thanh mused. “These people have to get off their asses when they get home and do something. While Cin was running raids trying to effect change, these folks followed his exploits like he was a comic book hero. “Colonel Cin frustrates Hanoi,” “Colonel Cin turns back a regiment of tanks with a sling shot.” It’s frustrating, Charlie. I’m like Cin, if I wasn’t married to Tuyen with children, I’d pick up my gun and blow shit up. Can you tell I’m not a politician?” They both laughed.
Charlie saw My Ling and Somchai go off to a tent to strategize about tomorrow.
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Lek wanted to be a judge and he knew that winning this case would put him in a better position to move into a judiciary opening, but he was not confident about the outcome. All those morons who came in from Montri’s village to testify about his character were characters themselves. Were their tributes going to negate the Ly woman’s testimony? Lek did not think so. Like the Ly woman said, had not Nyguen killed Montri somebody else should have. Lek was counting on Judge Ukrit to be the law and order man he was reputed to be.
His wife had shunned Lek after listening to his brutal questioning of My Ling and Di.u. It was his job to prosecute people, even if he thought they were innocent. He used to say, “I’m a lawyer; the first part of that word is ‘law.’” She didn’t care. He had never been so torn about a case he prosecuted. Part of him wanted Nyguen to be found not guilty, the other part of him wanted to win. He wondered why My Ling Nyguen did not just stay in America and keep her mouth shut? His life would have been so much easier.
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The prime minister knew only one thing: he hated Somchai Neelaphaijit and wanted him dead. Neelaphaijit’s sanctimonious stance on everything overshadowed the prime minister’s accomplishments. He was in the newspaper daily with some new cause, crying for a victim out in some godforsaken village or whining about the treatment of Muslims in the southern provinces. It was always something and what he really suspected was Neelaphaijit wanted his job. He had as massive an ego as any politician. It did not make any difference what happened in the Nyguen trial because Neelaphaijit would take up some other bleeding heart cause and receive wide-spread newspaper coverage for it.
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The police chief gathered his commanders to be ready for tomorrow’s verdict. He figured Judge Ukrit was going to find her not guilty. The chief had a begrudging admiration for Tiger Girl and what she endured. He found her story to be true and did not mind that she took the law into her own hands. He only wished she had turned Montri over to him because he most likely would have “hung himself in his cell.”
He was familiar with the kind of people she came from; her mother was cultured and her father was colonel in the Army; good stock. But this rabble she dragged into his city had to go. He thought that no matter what the verdict, the jungle people would riot and he was going to be ready with tear gas, fire hoses, truncheons, dogs and guns. This was his city and he did not like being threatened by a native mob.
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When Judge Ukrit arrived home his wife told him the attorney general wanted Ukrit to call him. Ukrit did not want to talk to him, but knew if he did not call, the A.G. would keep calling his house. She also informed him that the results of his medical exam had come. He told his wife he was going to stay in a hotel that night. When she asked where, he lied and told her he would call from the hotel. He did not want anybody to know where he was staying, including his wife.
The politics regarding the case were too much of a distraction for Ukrit and he did not want anything to interfere with his decision. He knew the prime minister hated Somchai Neelaphaijit as did the head of the Thai National Police, but Ukrit was going to render his opinion without their interference. He grabbed the envelope from his doctor, some clothing, and left.
He found an out of the way hotel, settled into the room, and pulled out the pages of notes he wrote. Because Nyguen was not threatened, h
er case did not really come under justifiable homicide. He wondered if Murder Statute 288 applied or was it Statute 289 which dealt with premeditated acts. If Nyguen was telling the truth it was premeditated; she got Montri to give her ride, shot him, and then robbed him. This was a problem for him. Why did she have to rob him? Then Ukrit realized the condemnation in the phrase “have to.” He believed her and he did not want to convict her, but the robbery presented a problem. If she just wanted him dead, she would have shot him and been done. But she robbed him and that queered his thinking. In one of his notes he saw the word “robbery” circled.
Had she forgotten she robbed him before she turned herself in? Did she think no one knew Montri was robbed? Was she looking to win political office or start a religion or was she a feminist, because if she was a feminist he really hated feminists, or did she overestimate her power? Did she have illusions or delusions of grandeur?
If she were to be exonerated, on what grounds would it be? If he lets her off, what is the message that would be sent to the people? If he let her off, the A.G. would go crazy. He went back and forth, she broke the law, Montri was a criminal, she robbed him, he deserved it, laws are important…on and on.
His wallet lay open on the table and in the clear plastic was a picture of his daughter. If she were in a similar situation what would she do? How would she act? How would he judge her? The weight of it was making him tired and he wanted to sleep. He lay down in bed and as he was drifting off, remembered Di.u Ly’s comment, “You can’t kill those bastards enough.” The truth was somewhere in that comment, but was the law there as well? His eyes closed, thinking of the truth or the law and he knew he could only accommodate one of them.
He could not sleep, so he got out of bed, lit a cigarette and stood on the balcony. He watched the city lights through the cigarette smoke and remembered the letter from his doctor. A life long smoker, he was not shocked to read that the mild cough he had been experiencing turned out to be lung cancer. When one of his colleagues contracted cancer he had observed, “When you know the end is near, your mind becomes exceptionally focused.” Ukrit’s mind became exceptionally focused and he knew what he had to do.
