by K E Lanning
Chavez shook her head. “Objection to this material being put forth as evidence. This is absolute circumstantial material and in no way an indictment of my client.”
Halder cocked his head toward Lowry. “As Ms. Walker acknowledged, neither group has claimed responsibility—your so-called ‘evidence’ connecting a Colombian tribe is circumstantial . . . at best, Ms. Chavez.” He turned back to the judge. “We are aware as to the sparsity of evidence, and as I’ve said, this information is just a leg to the stool . . .” Halder pivoted back to the jury, his voice raised. “But the fact remains that someone attacked the space station, threatening lives of citizens from around the world.” He pounded his fist into his other hand. “We have to build the case on what we know and who has motive.”
The judge nodded, but with a raised eyebrow. “You can submit the article, but please build the rest of the stool, Mr. Halder.”
Halder nodded to the judge. “Secondly, I’d like to submit a video of an interview Mr. Kimalu gave following a conference of tribal members and congressional leaders.” Halder swept his eyes across the members of the jury. “In this video, Mr. Kimalu is clearly angry in his tone discussing the now-defunct agreement of 1998, which was signed with the former government of Canada.” He pointed his finger in the air. “But more important is his mention of the International Space Station”—he leaned toward the jury—“in a menacing tone.”
“Objection!” Chavez shouted.
“Sustained.” The judge narrowed her eyes at Halder. “That is your subjective opinion, Mr. Halder.”
With a thin smile, Halder tilted his head. “I’d like to play the video now and let the jury decide for themselves.” He nodded to Edward to begin the clip.
The video came up on the monitor facing the courtroom. A reporter had a microphone in front of Jean-Luc. “Mr. Kimalu, can you tell us the status of the treaty negotiations with the government of Amerada? We’ve heard they’ve been delayed once again.”
The camera zoomed in on Jean-Luc’s face, his brow furrowed and lips tight. “Delay is their negotiation tactic while trespassers invade our reservation and steal our land. The Ameradan government has spat on the agreement and the apology of outrages that the Canadian government signed in 1998. The United States Congress has thrown it into the trash and wants to start over but conveniently never finds the time to complete the treaties.”
Jabbing his finger at the camera, Jean-Luc shouted, “We must have sovereignty in order to stop the squatters from occupying land which has been tribal territory for thousands of years.” Angrily, he waved at the sky. “The Ameradan government has time to put the new International Space Station into orbit but can’t find an opportunity to finalize our treaty terms—it’s despicable, and frankly, it smells of complicity with the advocates of a land grab.” Then he stormed past the reporter.
Halder gestured to the screen. “Mr. Kimalu seems to be an angry and desperate man, in my opinion.” He shrugged. “It is for you to decide whether his words could also be construed as a threat.”
Ms. Chavez leapt to her feet. “Objection—there is nothing that Mr. Kimalu states in the interview that could be construed as a direct threat against the ISS.”
“Overruled; Mr. Halder did not explicitly say whether it was a threat or not, Ms. Chavez.” The judge nodded to Halder. “Please continue, Mr. Halder.”
Halder turned on his heel and faced Jean-Luc. “I’d like to ask you a question, Mr. Kimalu: were there any other witnesses besides the tribal leaders to corroborate your alibi that you weren’t transmitting a message to shut down the space station?”
Jean-Luc’s eyes narrowed. “No, it was strictly Inuits at the council meeting since we were discussing legal means to stop the intrusion of squatters on our land.”
Halder pursed his lips and shrugged. “I guess it might be considered a conflict of interest for them to say you were not at the meeting, wouldn’t it?”
Jean-Luc’s mouth twitched. “Are you accusing all of them of lying that I was present at the meeting that day?”
Halder smiled and looked at the jury. “This is the third leg of our case: does Mr. Kimalu have an ironclad alibi?” He pivoted back toward Jean-Luc. “The problem I have is I don’t know who else would have the motive to shut down the power to the station as a political statement.” He put up his hand to stop Jean-Luc’s angry response. “Not a question, my boy, just an observation.”
Ms. Chavez rose half out of her chair. “Objection!”
“Sustained.” The judge stared at Halder. “Please watch your tone during your line of questioning, counselor.”
“Yes, Your Honor, and no further questions at this time.”
With his jaw set, Jean-Luc stood up and was escorted back to his seat behind the defense table. Chavez touched his arm and murmured something to him, but he stared straight ahead.
Then Chavez looked down at her notes and spoke to the judge. “I would like to call my last witness, Mr. Akiak Sataa, to the stand. Your Honor, Mr. Sataa only speaks Inuktun, so with your permission, I have a young woman as a translator for him during his testimony.”
The judge replied, “Yes, that’s allowed, but she must give a literal word-for-word translation and must also be sworn in.”
From the back of the courtroom, Sataa shuffled to the witness stand. He had deep-set brown eyes in a weathered face framed by brilliant white hair, which reached to his shoulders. He peered intensely into the clerk’s face as she asked, “Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?”
Sataa turned to the translator, who repeated the clerk’s words to him in Inuktun, and he nodded his head. After they were sworn in, the old shaman sat in the witness stand with the young Inuit woman standing next him.
Chavez approached the witness stand, at him. “Mr. Sataa, thank you for coming today; we are honored to have a distinguished leader of the Inuit tribe here today. I’d like you to describe in your own words what has been occurring on your tribal lands since the squatters have been invading.”
“Objection! She’s leading the witness,” boomed Halder.
“Sustained. Please keep your phrasing as unbiased as possible, Ms. Chavez.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Chavez turned back to Sataa. “I’ll rephrase the question. What has been the reaction of your people to the recent events with Ameradans from the south coming into your tribal lands?”
He spoke softly, and the translator repeated in English to the court: “Mr. Sataa told me that the dog people coming to their land are like a flock of geese coming back in the spring. They fly around, make lots of noise, and defecate everywhere.”
The courtroom exploded with laughter. After the mirth had subsided, Chavez asked her, “The dog people?”
The translator said, “Our people believe that some of the Eskimo people migrated to the south and became the ancestors to the white people.” She smiled. “They were called the dog children because they were the hairy children.”
Chavez grinned and gestured to her. “Please tell Mr. Sataa to continue.”
Sataa spoke until he nodded to the translator. She turned to the court with a serious look on her face. “The dog people, unlike the geese, do not leave—they bring their big trucks and build houses closer and closer to our villages and into our hunting lands. The animals flee before the loud music, the lights of the cars, and the big TV screens. The squatters buy what little food, medicines, and dry goods there are in the stores, which are not easily restocked. Our children are afraid, and several have been hit by drunks in cars. They trespass on our ancestors’ land, where we have lived for thousands of years. The invaders are destroying our way of life.”
Chavez nodded and then asked, “Mr. Sataa, for the record, were you at the meeting in question on the day the space station was shut down?”
The translator spoke softly to Sataa and then replied, “Yes.”
Chavez tilted her head. “Was the defendant, Mr. Kimalu, also at this meeting?”
/> Through the translator, Sataa said, “Yes.”
Chavez pursed her lips. “Mr. Sataa, do you have any knowledge of any involvement of the defendant, Jean-Luc Kimalu, in the transmission of the message in question to the space station?”
After Sataa answered, the translator said, “No.”
Chavez said, “Thank you, Mr. Sataa.” She turned to Halder. “Your witness.”
Halder looked up from his notes and sauntered to the witness stand. “Good morning, Mr. Sataa.”
Expressionless, Sataa cocked his head as Halder advanced.
Halder tilted his head back, looking at Sataa with an arrogant gaze. “Mr. Sataa, rest assured that the government does not condone the homesteaders, but we have no way to stop them at this point until the treaties are re-ratified. However, the case at hand is whether some members of your tribe were involved in the attack on the space station perpetrated to bring attention to the Eskimos’ current situation. But first, I’d like to ask a few questions so that we understand your background and position in your tribe.”
Halder looked down at his notes and smiled briefly. “Mr. Sataa, you are a shaman of the tribe?”
The interpreter said, “Yes, but in English, that might be better translated as a leader in the tribe.”
Halder turned to the judge and said, “Your Honor, the translator is not allowed to put her own spin on the witness’ words. I would like the record to state that ‘shaman’ is not just a ‘leader’ but is defined as a spiritual leader, an intermediary for the tribe to the spirit world.”
The judge agreed. “Yes, I would agree that the translator must translate exactly and not alter or expand the translation.” She turned to the translator. “Do you agree with Mr. Halder’s definition of shaman for the court?”
The translator spoke with Mr. Sataa, and then said, “For the record, we’d like to state that a shaman is both a leader of the people and a spiritual leader.”
Halder nodded. “Mr. Sataa, I believe you are considered an honored shaman in the tribe, correct?”
Sataa nodded his head.
“And Mr. Sataa, just to clarify, do you know what the space station is?”
Through the translator, he replied, “I have heard that it is like a large bird that circles the Earth.”
“Yes, that is a good analogy. Do you know why the radicals in your tribe would want to cut the power on the station?”
Chavez yelled, “Objection! Leading the witness, Your Honor.”
“Sustained.”
Halder faced Sataa. “Do you have knowledge of a plan to interrupt the power to the space station for political reasons?”
Sataa listened carefully to the interpreter and then spoke angrily in his native language.
The interpreter looked at him, but he waved his hand for her to translate what he had said. “He says the government must be lying when they say that Jean-Luc Kimalu or any of the Eskimo tribes were involved in anything to do with the space station. I never heard anyone ever speak of the space station except you.” She hesitated, glanced at the judge, and then continued with her translation, “Perhaps it is you, the government, who was involved in the attack on the space station in order to accuse our young men so that we can’t fight you.”
Halder held his hand up and cleared his throat. “The government does not bring false charges for frivolous reasons, Mr. Sataa.”
Sataa gazed upward and, as if in a trance, started rocking slightly in the witness chair. He began to chant with his hands, gesturing to the sky. Mesmerized, everyone waited, staring at this man as if he were a messenger from heaven—or hell.
He finished speaking and nodded to the translator. She blinked as she studied Sataa’s face. He nodded again, gesturing with his hand for her to translate what he had said. She turned to the hushed courtroom and took a deep breath. Straightening her shoulders, she gazed across the expectant room.
Then her voice rang out. “In the history of the world, there has been an epic battle between tribes in balance with the Earth and tribes out of balance with the Earth. The tribes out of balance have spent generations migrating and conquering others, as if they are afraid that if they stop moving, they may die. They conquer many civilizations, not for need of food, but for need of power. Power is a storm that blows the trees but does not last.” She faced Halder, staring directly at him. “Tell us—when will you lose your power to blow?”
The courtroom was deathly quiet, and even Halder appeared to be at a loss for words.
He looked at the judge. “No further questions for this witness, Your Honor.” Halder retreated behind the prosecution table.
Lowry was seated just behind them and overheard Gerwin quietly ask Halder, “Why didn’t you go after him?”
In a hushed voice, he replied, “It’s easy to make a liar look like a fool, but attacking a simple, honest man just makes you look like a fool, Mr. Gerwin.”
The judge announced, “If there is no objection, the prosecution and the defense will have their closing arguments after lunch. Court will take a lunch break and return at one p.m.”
Both lawyers nodded, and the courtroom slowly cleared. Jean-Luc was ushered out past the witness stand, and the jury filed out. Chavez walked toward the rear exit, caught up with Lowry, and asked, “Want to grab a bite to eat?”
***
They strolled to a restaurant near the courthouse and sat in a booth near the back. The Robowaiter brought their lunch, but Lowry gazed at her bowl of soup and crackers, trying to decide whether she could keep it down or not.
Chavez looked at her with a smile. “You did very well, Lowry. We just have the closing arguments now, and if too many aren’t on the payroll, the jury will either believe them or us.”
Sipping her soup, Lowry shrugged. “At least my testimony is over,” she murmured. She felt a gurgling in her belly and laid her spoon down for a moment so her stomach could wrestle the bisque into submission. Staring vacantly into the bowl, she reached up to smooth her knitted brow.
Chavez tilted her head toward a table on the far side of the restaurant. “Check out the Walrus and the Carpenter to your left—the booth near the window.”
Lowry stole a glance at Gerwin and Halder sitting across from each other with a tray of raw oysters between them. Gerwin raised an oyster to his mouth, swallowing it whole with the juice spilling onto his mustache. Halder demurely lifted one to his mouth and cocked his head back, sucking the hapless oyster down in a flash.
With a twinkle in her eye, Chavez lifted her fork and recited:
“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings.”
Lowry quipped, “Assholes on the half-shell, please,” and then began to laugh and could not stop. The strain of the last days crumbled her into a giggling schoolgirl. She dropped her head into her hands, and her shoulders shook, jiggling the table, the bisque quivering in its bowl. Tears rolled down her cheeks until she finally was able to stop. Gasping for air, she wiped her eyes with her napkin. “I needed that laugh.”
Chavez smiled and touched Lowry’s hand. “It’s been a rough day.” She glanced at the time and swept her Mcard over the bill. “We’d better scoot—I need to get back in there for the finale.”
They walked back into the courtroom, and Lowry found a seat close to the jury box. The court clerk announced the return of the judge. After the court was in session, Halder stood up and asked the judge if he could proceed with his closing statement. She nodded, and he approached the jury box.
“Good afternoon,” he said with a smile. Halder pointed into the air as he paced up and down in front of them. “This is one of the first major e-terrorist cases that has come to trial in the US, and I want you to realize the historical significance of this. Unfortunately, we may not have as much testimony and eviden
ce as we would like due to the difficulties of gathering forensic data in this situation.”
He pivoted back and stood in front of the jury box. “But, my friends, we have a solid motive, and that is the key to this case! Think about this carefully: who else would want to attack the space station with nearly one hundred lives aboard?” He pointed his index finger into the air. “One: we have a sophisticated virus beamed up to the ISS flashing the year 1998.”
Halder’s face was incredulous as he gestured with his hands. “Could this be the work of a primitive group hidden deep in the jungles of Colombia?” He pivoted again and put two fingers up. “Two: we have agreements which have become stalled in Congress.” He grinned. “We all know how Congress works—or not.” The jury laughed, and when he had them mesmerized, he turned to face them again, now with three fingers in the air. “And three: we have a questionable alibi and possible ties from an Eskimo tribe to the same man in Antarctica who found the ‘evidence’ of a Colombian connection.”
He leaned onto the rail in front of the jury, and his voice softened. “And what if they are not satisfied with a power outage? How do we prevent more attacks? By standing by helplessly while our family, friends, and neighbors are circling around the Earth, trusting us to do the right thing? Or do we do what is right, my friends, to protect the United States of Amerada?” He paused dramatically and then turned and nodded to the defense with a scornful glance at Chavez.
Chavez strode over to the jury and gazed across the faces of the jurors. She pursed her lips, shaking her finger in the air. “There is not one shred of evidence that ties my client, Mr. Kimalu, with this case.” She waved toward the prosecution table. “The prosecution’s connection of my client and this event is completely without merit!” She paced before the jury box. “And I will say for the record that there appears to be a conflict of interest on the part of the United States. And indeed, I believe it is a ‘convenience’ to connect the Inuits with this case in order to further erode the rights of the Eskimo peoples.”
