“That is my presentation.”
“Does the prosecutor have anything to add?” Judge Iversen said.
It was at this point that Ekström requested a private meeting in the judge’s chambers. There he argued that the case hinged upon one vulnerable individual’s mental state and welfare, and that it also involved matters which, if explored before the public in court, could be detrimental to national security.
“I assume that you are referring to what may be termed the Zalachenko affair,” Judge Iversen said.
“That is correct. Alexander Zalachenko came to Sweden as a political refugee and sought asylum from a terrible dictatorship. There are elements in the handling of his situation, personal connections and the like, that are still classified, even though Herr Zalachenko is now deceased. I therefore request that the deliberations be held behind closed doors and that a rule of confidentiality be applied to those sections of the deliberations that are particularly sensitive.”
“I believe I understand your point,” Judge Iversen said, knitting his brows.
“In addition, a large part of the deliberations will deal with the defendant’s guardianship. This touches on matters which in all normal cases become classified almost automatically, and it is out of respect for the defendant that I am requesting a closed court.”
“How does Advokat Giannini respond to the prosecutor’s request?”
“For our part it makes no difference.”
Judge Iversen consulted his assessor and then returned to the courtroom and announced, to the annoyance of the reporters present, that he had accepted the prosecutor’s request. So Blomkvist left the courtroom.
Armansky waited for Blomkvist at the bottom of the stairs in the courthouse. It was sweltering in the July heat and Blomkvist could feel sweat in his armpits. His two bodyguards joined him as he emerged from the courthouse. Both nodded to Armansky and then busied themselves studying the surroundings.
“It feels strange to be walking around with bodyguards,” Blomkvist said. “What’s all this going to cost?”
“It’s on the firm. I have a personal interest in keeping you alive. But, since you ask, we’ve spent roughly 250,000 kronor on pro bono work in the past few months.”
“Coffee?” Blomkvist said, pointing to the Italian café on Bergsgatan.
Blomkvist ordered a latte and Armansky a double espresso with a teaspoon of milk. They sat in the shade on the sidewalk outside. The bodyguards sat at the next table drinking Cokes.
“Closed court,” Armansky said.
“That was expected. And it’s OK, since it means that we can control the news flow better.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t matter to us, but my opinion of Prosecutor Ekström is sinking fast,” Armansky said.
They drank their coffee and contemplated the courthouse in which Salander’s future would be decided.
“Custer’s last stand,” Blomkvist said.
“She’s well prepared,” Armansky said. “And I must say I’m impressed with your sister. When she began planning her strategy I thought it made no sense, but the more I think about it, the more effective it seems.”
“This trial won’t be decided in there,” Blomkvist said. He had been repeating these words like a mantra for several months.
“You’re going to be called as a witness,” Armansky said.
“I know. I’m ready. But it won’t happen before the day after tomorrow. At least that’s what we’re counting on.”
Ekström had left his reading glasses at home and had to push his glasses up onto his forehead and squint to be able to read the last-minute handwritten additions to his text. He stroked his blond goatee before he readjusted his glasses once more and surveyed the room.
Salander sat with her back ramrod straight and gave the prosecutor an unfathomable look. Her face and eyes were impassive, and she did not appear to be wholly present. It was time for the prosecutor to begin questioning her.
“I would like to remind Fröken Salander that she is speaking under oath,” Ekström said at last.
Salander did not move a muscle. Prosecutor Ekström seemed to be anticipating some sort of response and waited for a few seconds. He looked at her expectantly.
“You are speaking under oath,” he said.
Salander tilted her head very slightly. Giannini was busy reading something in the preliminary investigation protocol and seemed unconcerned by whatever Prosecutor Ekström was saying. Ekström shuffled his papers. After an uncomfortable silence he cleared his throat.
“Very well then,” Ekström said. “Let us proceed directly to the events at the late Advokat Bjurman’s summer cabin outside Stallarholmen on April 6 of this year, which was the starting point of my presentation of the case this morning. We shall attempt to bring clarity to how it happened that you drove down to Stallarholmen and shot Carl-Magnus Lundin.”
Ekström gave Salander a challenging look. Still she did not move a muscle. The prosecutor suddenly seemed resigned. He threw up his hands and looked pleadingly at the judge. Judge Iversen seemed wary. He glanced at Giannini, who was still engrossed in some papers, apparently unaware of her surroundings.
Judge Iversen cleared his throat. He looked at Salander. “Are we to interpret your silence to mean that you don’t want to answer any questions?” he asked.
Salander turned her head and met Judge Iversen’s eyes.
“I will gladly answer questions,” she said.
Judge Iversen nodded.
“Then perhaps you can answer the question,” Ekström put in.
Salander looked at Ekström and said nothing.
“Could you please answer the question?” Judge Iversen urged her.
Salander looked back at the judge and raised her eyebrows. Her voice was clear and distinct.
“Which question? Until now that man there”—she nodded towards Ekström—“has made a number of unverified statements. I haven’t yet heard a question.”
Giannini looked up. She propped her elbow on the table and leaned her chin on her hand with an interested expression.
Ekström lost his train of thought for a few seconds.
“Could you please repeat the question?” Judge Iversen said.
“I asked whether … you drove down to Advokat Bjurman’s summer cabin in Stallarholmen with the intention of shooting Carl-Magnus Lundin.”
“No. You said that you were going to try to bring clarity to how it happened that I drove down to Stallarholmen and shot Carl-Magnus Lundin. That was not a question. It was a general assertion in which you anticipated my answer. I’m not responsible for the assertions you are making.”
“Don’t quibble. Answer the question.”
“No.”
Silence.
“No what?”
“No is my answer to the question.”
Prosecutor Ekström sighed. This was going to be a long day. Salander watched him expectantly.
“It might be best to take this from the beginning,” he said. “Were you at the late Advokat Bjurman’s summer cabin in Stallarholmen on the afternoon of April 6 this year?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get there?”
“I went by shuttle train to Södertälje and took the Strängnäs bus.”
“What was your reason for going to Stallarholmen? Had you arranged a meeting there with Carl-Magnus Lundin and his friend Sonny Nieminen?”
“No.”
“How was it that they showed up there?”
“You’ll have to ask them that.”
“I’m asking you.”
Salander did not reply.
Judge Iversen cleared his throat. “I presume that Fröken Salander is not answering because—purely semantically—you have once again made an assertion,” the judge said helpfully.
Giannini suddenly snickered just loud enough to be heard. She pulled herself together at once and studied her papers again. Ekström gave her an irritated glance.
“Why do you think Lundin
and Nieminen went to Bjurman’s summer cabin?”
“I don’t know. I suspect that they went there to commit arson. Lundin had half a gallon of gasoline in a plastic bottle in the saddlebag of his Harley-Davidson.”
Ekström pursed his lips. “Why did you go to Advokat Bjurman’s summer cabin?”
“I was looking for information.”
“What sort of information?”
“The information that I suspect Lundin and Nieminen were there to destroy, and which could contribute to clarifying who murdered the bastard.”
“Is it your opinion that Advokat Bjurman was a bastard? Is that correctly construed?”
“Yes.”
“And why do you think that?”
“He was a sadistic pig, a pervert, and a rapist—and therefore a bastard.”
She was quoting the text that had been tattooed on the late Advokat Bjurman’s stomach and thus indirectly admitting that she was responsible for it. This incident, however, was not included in the charges against Salander. Bjurman had never filed a report of assault, and it would be impossible now to prove whether he had allowed himself to be tattooed or whether it had been done against his will.
“In other words, you are alleging that your guardian forced himself on you. Can you tell the court when these assaults are supposed to have taken place?”
“They took place on Tuesday, February 18, 2003, and again on Friday, March 7, of the same year.”
“You have refused to answer every question asked by the police in their attempts to interview you. Why?”
“I had nothing to say to them.”
“I have read the so-called autobiography that your lawyer delivered without warning a few days ago. I must say it is a strange document, and we’ll come back to it in more detail later. But in it you claim that Advokat Bjurman allegedly forced you to perform oral sex on the first occasion, and on the second subjected you to an entire night of repeated rape and severe torture.”
Lisbeth did not reply.
“Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did you report the rapes to the police?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“The police never listened before when I tried to tell them something. So there seemed no point in reporting anything to them then.”
“Did you discuss these assaults with any of your acquaintances? A girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s none of their business.”
“Did you try to contact a lawyer?”
“No.”
“Did you go to a doctor to be treated for the injuries you claim to have sustained?”
“No.”
“And you didn’t go to any women’s crisis centre either.”
“Now you’re making an assertion again.”
“Excuse me. Did you go to any women’s crisis centre?”
“No.”
Ekström turned to the judge. “I want to make the court aware that the defendant has stated that she was subjected to sexual assaults on two occasions, the second of which should be considered exceptionally severe. The person she claims committed these rapes was her guardian, the late Nils Bjurman. The following facts should be taken into account at this juncture.” Ekström consulted the papers in front of him. “In the investigation carried out by the violent crimes division, there was nothing in Advokat Bjurman’s past to support the credibility of Lisbeth Salander’s account. Bjurman was never convicted of any crime. He has never been reported to the police or been the subject of an investigation. He had previously been a guardian or trustee to several other young people, none of whom have claimed that they were subjected to any sort of attack. On the contrary, they assert that Bjurman invariably behaved correctly and kindly towards them.”
Ekström turned a page.
“It is also my duty to remind the court that Lisbeth Salander has been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic. This is a young woman with a documented violent tendency, who since her early teens has had serious problems in her interactions with society. She spent several years in a children’s psychiatric institution and has been under guardianship since the age of eighteen. However regrettable this may be, there are reasons for it. Lisbeth Salander is a danger to herself and to those around her. It is my conviction that she does not need a prison sentence. She needs psychiatric care.”
He paused for effect.
“Discussing a young person’s mental state is an innately disagreeable task. So much is an invasion of privacy, and her mental state becomes the subject of interpretation. In this case, however, we have Lisbeth Salander’s own confused worldview on which to base our decision. It becomes manifestly clear in what she has termed her ‘autobiography.’ Nowhere is her want of a foothold in reality as evident as it is here. In this instance we need no witnesses or interpretations to invariably contradict one another. We have her own words. We can judge for ourselves the credibility of her assertions.”
His gaze fell on Salander. Their eyes met. She smiled. She looked malicious. Ekström frowned.
“Does Advokat Giannini have anything to say?” Judge Iversen said.
“No,” Giannini said. “Other than that Prosecutor Ekström’s conclusions are nonsensical.”
The afternoon session began with the cross-examining of witnesses. The first was Ulrika von Liebenstaahl from the guardianship agency. Ekström had called her to the stand to establish whether complaints had ever been lodged against Advokat Bjurman. This was strongly denied by von Liebenstaahl. Such assertions were defamatory.
“There exists a rigorous supervision of guardianship cases. Advokat Bjurman had been active on behalf of the guardianship agency for almost twenty years before he was so shockingly murdered.”
She gave Salander a withering look, despite the fact that Salander was not accused of murder; it had already been established that Bjurman was murdered by Ronald Niedermann.
“In all these years there has not been a single complaint against Advokat Bjurman. He was a conscientious person who evidenced a deep commitment to his wards.”
“So you don’t think it’s plausible that he would have subjected Lisbeth Salander to aggravated sexual assault?”
“I think that statement is ridiculous. We have monthly reports from Advokat Bjurman, and I personally met him on several occasions to go over the assignment.”
“Advokat Giannini has presented a request that Lisbeth Salander’s guardianship be rescinded, effective immediately.”
“No-one is happier than we who work at the agency when a guardianship can be rescinded. Unfortunately, we have a responsibility, which means that we have to follow the appropriate regulations. For the agency’s part, we are required in accordance with normal protocol to see to it that Lisbeth Salander is declared fit by a psychiatric expert before there can be any talk of changes to her legal status.”
“I understand.”
“This means that she has to submit to a psychiatric examination. Which, as everyone knows, she has refused to do.”
The questioning of Ulrika von Liebenstaahl lasted for about forty minutes, during which time Bjurman’s monthly reports were examined.
Giannini asked only one question before Ulrika von Liebenstaahl was dismissed.
“Were you in Advokat Bjurman’s bedroom on the night of March 7, 2003?”
“Of course not.”
“In other words, you haven’t the faintest idea whether my client’s statement is true or not?”
“The accusation against Advokat Bjurman is preposterous.”
“That is your opinion. Can you give him an alibi or in any other way document that he did not assault my client?”
“That’s impossible, naturally. But the probability—”
“Thank you. That will be all,” Giannini said.
Blomkvist met his sister at Milton’s offices near Slussen at around 7:00 to go through the day’s proceedings.
“It was
pretty much as expected,” Giannini said. “Ekström has bought Salander’s autobiography.”
“Good. How’s she holding up?”
Giannini laughed.
“She’s holding up very well, coming across as a complete psychopath. She’s merely being herself.”
“Wonderful.”
“Today has mostly been about what happened at the cabin in Stallarholmen. Tomorrow it’ll be about Gosseberga, interrogations of people from forensics and so forth. Ekström is going to try to prove that Salander went down there intending to murder her father.”
“Well …”
“But we may have a technical problem. This afternoon Ekström called Ulrika von Liebenstaahl from the guardianship agency. She started going on about how I had no right to represent Lisbeth.”
“Why?”
“She says that Lisbeth is under guardianship and therefore isn’t entitled to choose her own lawyer. So, technically, I may not be her lawyer if the guardianship agency hasn’t rubber-stamped it.”
“And?”
“Judge Iversen is going to decide tomorrow morning. I had a brief word with him after today’s proceedings. I think he’ll decide that I can continue to represent her. My point was that the agency has had three whole months to raise the objection—to show up with that kind of objection after proceedings have started is an unwarranted provocation.”
“Teleborian will testify on Friday, I gather. You have to be the one who cross-examines him.”
On Thursday Prosecutor Ekström explained to the court that after studying maps and photographs and listening to extensive technical conclusions about what had taken place in Gosseberga, he had determined that the evidence indicated that Salander had gone to her father’s farmhouse in Gosseberga with the intention of killing him. The strongest link in the chain of evidence was that she had taken a weapon with her, a Polish P-83 Wanad.
The fact that Alexander Zalachenko (according to Salander’s account) or possibly the cop killer Ronald Niedermann (according to testimony that Zalachenko had given before he was murdered at Sahlgrenska) had in turn attempted to kill Salander and bury her in a trench in woods nearby could in no way be held in mitigation of the fact that she had tracked down her father to Gosseberga with the express intention of killing him. Moreover, she had all but succeeded in that objective when she struck him in the face with an axe. Ekström demanded that Salander be convicted of attempted murder or premeditation with the intent to kill and, in that case, aggravated assault.
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