Escape (63 page)

The tension in the courtroom was almost visible as a sort of shimmer in the air when Judge Dermondy entered. He sat down and immediately turned to the attorneys. "First of all, let me say that while this has been an emotionally difficult trial, I'd like to commend counsel on both sides for their professionalism." He then, in a slow but determined drawl, addressed the spectator gallery. "I will be bringing the jury out in a moment, but before I do I want to caution you against any sort of outbursts. I understand that this verdict may be cause for tears or cheers. I will tolerate the first, but I will not tolerate the latter. If you cannot control yourselves, I suggest that you leave now." He looked around the courtroom as if to see if anyone would object—or take his suggestion. Satisfied, he nodded to his court clerk. "Very well, please show the jury in."

As the jurors took their seats, Karp saw that several appeared to have been crying recently. However, the tears had since dried and they sat looking at the judge with their faces set and grim. The courtroom was absolutely still except for the quiet weeping of Liza Gupperstein.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?" Dermondy asked.

"We have, your honor," the jury foreman replied, rising from his seat. He handed the jury forms to the court clerk, who handed them to the judge.

Dermondy studied them for a moment. "Will the defendant and counsel please rise."

Jessica Campbell stood, swaying slightly as Lewis put an arm around her.

Dermondy handed the verdict sheets back to the court clerk, who in stentorian tones began to read: "We the jury in the matter of
The People of the State of New York versus Jessica Campbell
on Count One find the defendant ... guilty of murder..."

The courtroom erupted. Jessica fainted and her mother cried out. Several reporters dashed from the courtroom with the news as the clerk continued to read the verdict: "three counts of murder. Guilty, guilty, guilty."

As Lewis and court security officers revived Jessica, the Guppersteins tried to leave but were rushed by the media. "Get away from us, you bastards," Ben Gupperstein snarled.

When the Guppersteins were gone, the court clerk polled the jury—each juror was asked if the verdict was true and correct. Dermondy then addressed the jury, some of whom had started to cry again. "Your duty here is done," he said with a kind tone. "You have served faithfully and well and are to be commended. Go home, hug your children, spend time with your loved ones. You are excused."

"Your honor, we will be appealing the verdict," Lewis said. "I'd like to ask the court to set bail pending appeal."

Dermondy denied Lewis's application and remanded the defendant pending sentencing.

Court security took Jessica by the arms, pulling her gently to her feet. But she suddenly tore out of the grip. "No!" she screamed, her face contorted with rage and fear. "It was Charlie's fault! Fornicator! Adulterer!" The security team quickly got her under control again, but as she was being dragged from the courtroom, she went limp and cried out, "Oh God, why have you forsaken me?"

Ten minutes later, the courtroom was empty except for Karp, Kenny Katz, and Gilbert Murrow, who looked at his watch. "I told the press that somebody would be along shortly to give a statement."

"You two go," Karp replied. "This one was Kenny's."

"Nice of you to say so, boss. But you were right, the jury saw right through the smoke and mirrors to the facts. If I'd had my way, we'd still be arguing the DSM."

Karp shook his hand. "Let's just say we made a good team. But I still don't want to go to the press conference. I'm sure you're both capable of dealing with those vultures."

"All right," Murrow shrugged. "You're going to miss a great photo-op." He took Kenny by the elbow and led him down the aisle. "We'll keep it short and sweet," he told him. "Express appreciation for the jury. That it was a difficult trial for all concerned. But that the New York District Attorney's Office believes that justice has been served for Hillary, Chelsea, and Benjamin Campbell.... Oh, and remember, thank ..."

The rest of the conversation was cut off by the courtroom doors. Karp sat still a moment longer. There was something about a courtroom after a verdict. It was as if all that energy and pathos had suddenly gone down a drain, and now the very air was resting.

He stood up. He needed to get home. Tonight, the Karps were going to have a real Shabbat dinner and had invited the Sobelmans. After lunch, he'd received a call from Marlene saying he didn't have to stop by Ferraro's to pick up dessert. A delivery boy had just been by to drop off a cherry cheese coffee-cake.

The thought of it made Karp's mouth water. He was looking forward to seeing Moishe, who'd called the day after the attack. The old man told him about a curious incident at his store several nights earlier. "I thought for a moment I had seen a ghost, a ghost of a boy I once knew. But I went outside and he was gone. I hope that wherever he is now, he has found peace." Thinking about Moishe reminded Karp of the bar mitzvah class and their discussion about Abraham and Isaac.

"Now the question I wanted to ask you is: If you had been the district attorney back then and God had not intervened to save Isaac, would you have charged Abraham with a crime?"

He glanced over at the defense table and noticed a large manila envelope. Lewis had probably forgotten it, which was none of his concern, but curiosity pulled him a little closer and he noticed there was a name on the outside. District Attorney Karp.

"Well, no," Zak had replied. "God told him to do it. You have to do what God says!"

Picking up the envelope, Karp weighed it in his hand, then opened it and pulled out the contents—a single sheet from the sketch pad of Jessica Campbell. It was a detailed pencil drawing from the trial, drawn as if from a perspective hovering above and behind the prosecution table.

The detail and darkness reminded him of the de Goya painting that Lewis had used in her closing. On the left, Katz leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling—whether in supplication or frustration, it was hard to tell—as Lewis, who had risen from her seat, gestured toward Dermondy.

In the upper right hand, as the focus of the drawing, Karp stood next to the exhibit easel, his hand resting lightly on the photograph of the three Campbell children. He wondered if she'd really meant to create the halo around his head and the photograph or if it was just the way she'd used the eraser. Most of the jurors, drawn as they'd actually appeared, were watching him, though several were crying.

No one was sitting in the defendant's seat. Jessica, in fact, was nowhere in the drawing, though she'd included her sketch pad on the defense table. Looking closely, Karp could just make out a single word written on the pad.
Hineini.
Here I am.

Karp thought about it for a moment. Then he speculated that it seemed as if Jessica Campbell, the radical professor, the ambitious political activist, no longer existed, at least in her own mind, except as an incarcerated murderer in the New York State Department of Corrections. He recalled the question he had put to the students in the bar mitzvah class and Zak's answer. "
Really
?" he'd replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Even commit murder?"

Karp placed the drawing back in the manila folder. "Not in New York City," he whispered and walked out of the courtroom.