The Laws of Our Fathers

by Scott Turow

  Led by One Hundred Flowers members who were still pushing to the front, the crowd began greeting Eddgar's well-timed pauses with choruses of 'Right on!'

  'We must take the power to make the decisions about our lives from people who care only about theirs," Eddgar cried. 'We must, as Mao taught, "Make trouble, fail; make trouble again, fail again… till their doom." '

  Suddenly, somewhere near the front, a woman cried out - a shocking, terrified sound. Something was happening. We all knew it. 'This isn't good,' Sonny said and pulled me to my feet. Around us, everyone was rising.

  Eddgar, who had been silent for a moment, screamed another quotation into the bullhorn: ' "It is good we are attacked by the enemy, since it proves we have drawn a clear line of demarcation between the enemy and ourselves." '

  I saw the first rock in the air then, traveling a long arc toward the enormous panes of the front windows of the building. The closed environment, the riot-clothed coppers, the university's sullen, entrenched battlefield atmosphere agitated me enough that an abandoned, heart-sprung piece of me probably soared in flight with that stone. But the thinking part was already in agony. The window seemed to drop out at once. A waterfall of glass crashed down on the cops, who reacted immediately. They claimed afterwards there'd been some further attack, but I know I saw batons swinging then. There was intense confusion, high-pitched screaming, fierce buffeting as people fled.

  From the rear, where Sonny and I were, the deterioration near the stage had a remote quality for a moment. We could see the crowd peeling back in rows twenty or thirty deep as the line of cops fell upon them. Then suddenly, the ripples of panicked movement were nearby, then around us - molten faces and piercing voices and hair flying about. The earth jumped with the pounding of the mob. Some people held their ground momentarily to throw rocks and cans, but Sonny and I ran. As I reached the road back to the gates, a young woman stumbled to the asphalt right next to me and I helped her up. There was an open gash across her forehead, amid a throbbing welt. Blood ran on her face and was already crusted in her hair. She wiped at it tentatively and cried aloud when she saw her hand, then she ran along, clearly afraid of being struck again. You could feel from the surging, wild movement of the crowd that the cops were still coming, still swinging.

  For a moment, as we all rushed toward the gates, the panic seemed to have receded. I had lost Sonny somewhere and I stood on the tarred drive, yelling her name, answered with the cries of a dozen people like me attempting to find someone from whom they'd been separated. Then, without warning, another hysterical chorus rose up. With the second volley, I recognized the screaming sound of the canisters in the air. The little smoky trails, innocuous-appearing at a distance, dissolved as they rose from the ground, but the students knew enough to take flight with a new, maddened intensity. At the bottom of the hill, I could see people climbing the iron fence, and the spikes rocking at other points as the crowd massed against it. Overhead, the birds who had tasted the tear gas shrieked, flying crazy circles, mad with pain.

  Near the gate, it was a horrible scene. I saw a woman with her head trapped against a concrete post, entirely unable to move for an instant until she suddenly disappeared. Beyond the gates, people rushed on, screaming and crying, shouting threats against the police. Once I was on the gravel road, I turned back again, searching the grieved, dirt-streaked faces for Sonny. As they flowed past, I noticed a few who somehow had the foresight to soak washcloths, which were now stuffed into their mouths to abate the effects of the gas. There were even three or four people, each dressed in the PLP khakis, who wore rubber gas masks. As she came by, one woman pried off the green-monster face of her mask and, improbably, kissed me. It was Lucy.

  'We're with Cleveland. We were. I don't know where he and Hobie are.' She looked in all directions.

  'Cleveland Marsh?' Hobie's law-school classmate. I wouldn't have expected a Panther leader at a peace march - or Hobie, for that matter. Lucy kissed me again and ran on, swept into the current of the moving crowd.

  I waited another ten minutes or so, hoping to see Sonny. The wind changed direction then and I ended up catching a mouthful of gas. In full flight, I took off toward the campus. I went to the spot where I'd parked the Bug, but Sonny wasn't there. After some time, I moved on, figuring she could drive home. It turned out she was far ahead and had left the car for me.

  Unaware of that, I walked on, reassuring myself that Sonny was okay and hoping to see her on the way. Beyond the bright lights of Campus Boul, the night had closed softly on the streets of stucco apartment buildings, in their soft, reflective shades, and the little tile-roofed homes. Away from the commotion, the panic, I could feel my heart. My shoulder ached for reasons I could not recollect. It was turning cool quickly and you could feel the fog coming, thickening the air, even though it was not yet visible. I was sick to my stomach from the gas, and my eyes now smarted considerably. I knew enough not to rub them, and so I walked along in the cool night streaming tears that I wiped gingerly on my sleeve.

  When I reached our building, I heard some kind of shuffling -fast steps, a voice, something furtive. My impression was that it was more than one person. I drew back with an arm raised and yelled out, 'Who is that?'

  Eddgar stepped out then from beneath the exterior wooden stairwell which served as a fire escape. He remained in the shadow, beyond the path of light from the fixture over the entry. He was breathing heavily. A rill of sweat glistened on his temple. And he had lost his shirt along the way. He wore only a colored ‘I, and he looked more slender than I might have guessed. He had run from somewhere. Somewhere he was not supposed to be, I thought. I figured he had run to get ahead of the police. So that he could say he was at home. He must have come through the alleys, afraid that the coppers were keeping surveillance on the cars of One Hundred Flowers members, or that he could not move fast enough in the heavy traffic.

  'Seth,' he said. He seemed unusually full of himself, his face lifted up somewhat daringly toward the light. 'It's all right,' he said over his shoulder. Then he faced me and in silent instruction nodded toward the stairs. I walked up slowly to the landing outside our apartment, but I knew I'd never make myself go inside. I turned back to watch.

  Below me, Eddgar knocked on the shingles as some kind of signal and two people came around the building side - Martin Kellett, the campus union leader, in his heavy motorcycle boots, and a pale, thin person I thought was a woman. She had fly-about dishwater hair and wore an open flannel shirt. She and Kellett carried a rolled stretcher, like something from Scout camp, a canvas sheet suspended between two poles. Eddgar stepped aside then, and they crouched beneath the wooden stairwell. Kellett spoke consolingly to someone. 'All right, Rory. Just cool there, comrade. Here we go.' A man cried out then, and Kellett and the woman emerged bent from the black space beneath the stairwell. A man lay on the stretcher. Even in the minimal light, I could see that his foot was turned at an inhuman angle. 'We're boogying,' Kellett said to Eddgar. 'Truck'11 be in back.'

  Eddgar moved off with them. The gate slammed and the latch clinked thickly home. I heard the hoarse rumble of the truck come near, and the explosion of gravel as it tore off again. Then, in the borrowed light, Eddgar reappeared. He caught sight of me on the stairs and trudged up slowly.

  'He broke his leg,' he said.

  I knew better than to ask how. Something had happened. Something bad. Something Damon Security would want to know about. But what bothered me most was the way Eddgar cupped my shoulder and headed on, without troubling himself to look back. He knew he had nothing to fear from me.

  DECEMBER 5, 1995

  Sonny

  Report And Evaluation Of Pre-trial Services On Nile Eddgar

  Subject: Nile T. Eddgar

  Judge: Klonsky

  Charges: Violation of Sections 2 and 76610 of Revised States Statutes

  (Conspiracy to Commit Murder)

  At the request of his counsel. Subject was referred to Pre-Trial Services (hereinafter P T S) for ev
aluation and recommendation regarding Subject's fitness to be admitted to bail pending trial. Because of Subject's employment with the Kindle County Probation Office (KCPO), this matter was referred to the

  undersigned in Greenwood County Probation Office, which is not acquainted with Subject.

  On Tuesdays, when Cindy Holman drives - I should probably say 'manages' - the kindergarten car pool, Nikki and I are always prompt. Arriving early, I had time to indulge a moment's curiosity and pulled the PTS report, which Marietta mentioned last night, from the court file. It had remained there unread after Eddgar posted Nile's bail, one more copious summation of information and energy made irrelevant by the swift course of courthouse events.

  general observations: Subject was interviewed at Kindle County Jail (KCJ) on September 13, 7995, in the presence of State Defender, Gina Devore. Subject is presently attempting to retain private counsel, but signed Form 4446 -PTS Waiver of Rights - in order to allow his new lawyer to file a motion for reduction of bond.

  Subject is a white male, aged 31 years. He is 6 feet 1 inch tall and weighs 245 pounds. He appears alert and was co-operative throughout the interview. He describes his health as good. Subject was observed smoking cigarettes, which he says give him a chronic bronchial condition. A routine intake urine screen at KCJ was negative for the presence of opiates and other narcotics. Trace amounts of tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) were reported, after Subject's interview, suggesting possible marijuana use.

  education: Subject attended college intermittently until three years ago. He claims an A A from Kindle County Community College (confirmed) and lists sufficient credit hours in social work-related areas for his Bachelor's Degree. A BA has not been awarded due to his failure to complete required courses in science. Subject claims a twelfth-grade diploma from Easton Lab School (confirmed).

  employment: Subject has been employed for almost two years as a probation officer with the Kindle County Probation Department (KCPD). Subject's duties generally involve him in overseeing the activities of clients who have been released from the penitentiary and whose sentence by the Court included a period of supervised release or probation. Subject monitors family adjustment, employment, attendance in chemical dependence programs, etc. His salary is $38,000 p. a. Previous employment was sporadic as Subject was completing his education. (See above.)

  Subject's KCPD personnel file, which was reviewed by the undersigned, shows that Subject has generally had good evaluations. His written work product is frequently late, causing complaints from certain judges, but he relates well to clients. One supervisor stated that Subject is sometimes too sympathetic and 'buys the [b.s.].' In his first year of employment, Subject was placed on review status due to failure to appear for work on three occasions within a month. His attendance has been regular since.

  Joseph Tamara, head of KCPD, states that Subject is presently on administrative leave. He will receive his salary but will not be allowed to work while the instant charges are pending. If acquitted of all charges, Tamara says, Subject would be entitled to return to work.

  family history/background: Subject is unmarried. Since taking his position with KCPD, he has maintained a residence at 2343 Duhaney (confirmed) in DuSable. Subject acknowledges that he continues to spend weekends and many nights during the week with his father in Greenwood County.

  Subject states that he was born in Damon, California, November 19, 1963. His father was a university professor; his mother worked outside the home in various capacities.

  In 1971 his parents separated and subsequently Subject moved with his mother to Marston, Wisconsin. Subject's mother remarried, Dr William Chaikos, a doctor of veterinary medicine, in 1975. She divorced Dr Chaikos in 1979 and, according to Subject, chose thereafter to use the surname 'Eddgar' in deference to her son.

  Subject admits that in Wisconsin his social adjustment was poor in school and that he did not get along with his stepfather or two step-siblings when his mother remarried. Subject's father (see below) states that his ex-wife was having problems of substance abuse throughout this period. Therefore, at the age of 13, Subject moved to Greenwood County to reside with his father who had become a professor at Easton University. Subject says that he continued to do poorly in school and had other troubles. (See below.) He moved back and forth on a number of occasions between his father's home and his mother's in Wisconsin.

  Subject's father, State Senator Loyell Eddgar, was also interviewed by phone on September 13 - Dr Eddgar characterizes his son as highly intelligent but not well motivated. He says he had to encourage Nile to finish his education. He says that in spite of troubles in school, Nile maintained a stable relationship with both parents. While Sen. Eddgar acknowledges that Nile has experienced various adjustment problems, the senator says that since joining KCPD his son has been productive and seemingly more content. Sen. Eddgar helped Nile secure his present position. Sen. Eddgar refused to discuss details of the instant offense at the request of the Kindle County Prosecuting Attorney's Office (KCPAO).

  Subject's mother, June Eddgar, was not available for interview, as she is deceased as a result of the crime with which Subject is presently charged.

  criminal history: Kindle County Unified Police Force records, FBI, NADDIS reports were requested. All are negative. During interview, Subject admits that while a juvenile he was the Subject of two station adjustments for shoplifting, and one for destruction of wildlife. Subject adds that it was this experience which first interested him in becoming a probation officer.

  financial: Subject's counsel states that Subject will attempt, through new counsel, to make arrangements to post an adequate bail. He will report directly to the Court on his resources at the time of the bond hearing.

  conclusion: P TS concludes that Subject is an appropriate candidate for bail. While Subject is charged with a very serious offense for which a grand jury has found probable cause exists, he has lifelong ties to the community, no history of violent crime, and no adult criminal record.

  Maria Guzman Tomar Chief, Pre-Trial Services Greenwood County Probation Office 18 September 1995

  'Subject,' I think, is always an appropriate candidate for bail. PTS is a holdover from CETA, a job-training program staffed by persons who are barely beyond the point of poverty themselves. Their sympathies are freely engaged by the prisoners; PTS's message, sometimes barely lettered, is usually the same as Moses': Let my people go. The length of this report - three pages - and the speed with which it was prepared - a week - are a tribute to the political sensitivities of this matter and the suburban caseload in Greenwood County. Here in Kindle, we are often a month awaiting a single paragraph. It's not clear whether Ms Tomar didn't hear that Nile made bail or decided it was politically advisable to complete her report anyway. But clearly she had no inkling Eddgar would come through for Nile. Why did he, then?

  'We-all are ready, Judge,' says Marietta, peeking in from the back door of the chambers.

  In the courtroom, we get off to a fractious start. Tommy told Hobie the first witness would be Lovinia Campbell, the young homegirl who ended up as another victim of the shooting, but Molto says the transport deputies have failed to deliver her, as they often do. Hobie thinks this is simply an excuse to turn the tables on him.

  'Mr Tuttle,' I say, ‘I have to tell you this happens all the time.' Annie is always on the phone complaining about the jail's failure to deliver the prisoners we need. Somehow there is never any keeping track. A thousand inmates go back and forth each day, walked over into the basement of this building down the tunnel that ties the jail to the courthouse. Somebody bonds out. Somebody else never arrived from the police station where he was first arrested. And in a system in which everything - bail, jail housing, sentencing - go harder on repeat offenders, it is a daily occurrence to discover that a defendant has not given his true name. Often the intake fingerprint comparison done at McGrath Hall, Police Force headquarters, will reveal that a defendant has a rap sheet with four or five different aliases. Kamal Smith i
s Keeval Sharp, Kevin Sharp, and Sharpstuff. Aggravated by all of this, Annie's English is apt to fall apart. 'Today, dis mawnin, you send me wrong Ortiz. I need Angel Ortiz. Numbah, six oh six, faw faw fi'. Tree times now we ged wrong Ortiz. Is not right. Ged me right one. Please!'

  'Your Honor,' Hobie says, ‘I think they're not prepared to put on the witness. I think she's giving them trouble.'

  'Judge,' answers Molto, 'there wasn't any trouble until she met Mr Tuttle. And we'll be happy to put her on, but she's not here. Maybe the transport deputies dropped the ball, maybe our office did, but she didn't arrive from Juvenile Hall. We can't change that now. We have some stips to read and another witness on the way over. That's all we can do.'

  'Mr Turtle, are you unprepared for the witness the state intends to call?'

  'I'm all right,' he answers casually. 'Well then, what's your point?'

  He shrugs as if he doesn't know and without more discussion retreats to counsel table, fiddling with his pad and pretending not to notice my irritated glance. A few feet away, Molto and Singh confer. Is Lovinia Tommy's problem? Is she the reason he was so eager to get started? Was he hoping to keep her in line? That's what it sounds like.

  After some shuffling at the prosecution table, Rudy Singh arrives at the podium. His limp grey suit is far too light for the season.

  'We have reached stipulations, if the court please,' he announces. Rudy has a musical voice and pretentious manner. He is darker by a shade than Hobie, slender, with heavy black brows and perfect features. He strikes me as one of those spoiled, pretty-boy princes who seem to be produced by every ethnic group around the world.

  Rudy reads what has been agreed into the record. Essentially, the police pathologist's report has been accepted. June Eddgar died of multiple gunshot wounds to the head. Blood gases and the lung tissues indicate death was immediate. Various details regarding the state of her digestion, and facts reported by the officers on the scene lead the pathologist to opine that the time of death was between 6:15 a.m. and 7:00 a.m. on September 7. Mrs Eddgar, according to the pathologist, was looking straight into the path of the gunfire when she was struck.