The Paper Dragon (59 page)

"Mr. Driscoll has claimed, your Honor has heard him testify, that the character Lieutenant Alex Cooper in
The Paper Dragon
is based upon himself, and yet when asked which specific incidents or events happened to him, James Driscoll, he was hard put to find any such events that were not common to both the book and the play. Lieutenant Cooper was idealistic, yes, but James Driscoll was not. Lieutenant Cooper was single, James Driscoll was not. Lieutenant Cooper had an affair with a nurse, James Driscoll did not. And all down the line, your Honor, we see this same disparity between what
actually
happened to James Driscoll and what happened to the officer supposedly based on himself. Did Mr. Driscoll ever have a man like Colman in his platoon? No. Was there a troublemaker in his platoon? No. Was there a homosexual? No. Was there a murder scheme? No. Was he ever the target of a planned murder? No. He claims first that the book is autobiographical, and then when pressed to tell us just
how
it is autobiographical, he can tell us only that he
invented
most of the incidents.

"I do not think I have to comment on the preposter-ousness of his Colman-iceman story, or the farfetched allusion to Eugene O'Neill's play, or Mr. Driscoll's* insistence that an obviously homosexual character in
Catchpole
was not at all homosexual and was not indeed the basis for the homosexual character in his book. We have Mr. Ralph Knowles's expert testimony — and was it not Mr. Genitori who said he was a highly respected and honored director? — we have his expert testimony that he
did
, in fact, combine two characters in the novel to form the single character of Colman in his film. And
this
, your Honor, is why James Driscoll insisted Colonel Peterson was not a homosexual, only because he knew very well that he
had
taken Peterson and Janus and combined them to form Colman, which process Knowles reversed in making his picture.

"And then, your Honor, we came to what I earlier called the thief's fingerprints and which I still maintain are the fingerprints of a thief, and I refer now to the labeling of the 105th Division."

A silence fell over the courtroom. In the silence, Driscoll heard the click of Ebie's handbag once again, and he turned to look at her and saw that she was straining forward in her seat now, leaning over at a sharp angle, her eyes on Brackman, her mouth drawn into a tight, narrow line.

"The 105th Division," Brackman repeated. "Here, your Honor, I do not think there can be any question whatever of coincidence. No one in this room would be willing to bet even fifty cents on correctly picking the same three digits in sequence, and yet that's exactly what Mr. Driscoll did, he picked three digits at random, one, oh, five, and they just happened to correspond with those same three digits in the play, even though the odds against this happening, as we saw, were a million to one. Now your Honor, that is too much to believe, and Mr. Driscoll
knows
it is
too
much to believe, and so he tells us he does not know how he hit upon those three digits, he
honestly
does not know how they happened to come to him, perhaps on the wings of a muse. Or more likely, your Honor, perhaps as the result of an error, the single error this thief made in his painstaking robbery. After the meticulous compilation of all his covering outlines and plots and maps, after the careful disguising of each and every character and event, here was the one mistake, here was the identifiable—"

Ebie rose.

She rose silently, with both hands tightly clutching her pocketbook, the knuckles white. It seemed for a moment as though she were simply going to leave the courtroom, as though she were unable to listen a moment longer to Brackman's accusations. But she did not move from where she stood in the jury box. She looked up at the judge. Brackman, seeing McIntyre's puzzled frown, stopped speaking and turned to face her.

"Your Honor," she said softly, "may I talk to Mr. Willow?"

Driscoll suddenly put his hand on her shoulder. She looked at him curiously, as though unable to read the gesture, and then turned again to the judge and plaintively inquired, "Your Honor?"

There was, for perhaps thirty seconds, total silence in the courtroom. Brackman did not object, although he was in the middle of his summation and any such interruption was forbidden and in fact unthinkable. Willow made no motion to recess, even though his client's wife had just asked if she could talk to him. The silence was complete, a stunned silence that stifled all action. Like children turning to their father for guidance when one of their peers has unforgivably transgressed, the lawyers looked toward the bench at the front of the courtroom, where McIntyre squinted in consternation, silent himself.

At last he said, "This Court will recess for ten minutes."

They returned to the courtroom at four minutes past eleven. McIntyre called the three attorneys to the bench, where they stood ranged before him, Willow in the center, Brackman and Genitori on either side of him. He fussed about in his chair, making himself comfortable. Then he folded his arms flat on the bench top, leaned forward, and brusquely said, "All right, Mr. Willow, what's this all about?"

"Your Honor," Willow said, "I would like to make application to reopen the case."

"For what purpose?"

"To submit additional testimony."

"Mr. Brackman?"

"Your Honor," Brackman said, "any additional testimony from the defendant at this point, after I've almost completed my summation, could only be injurious to my case. I respectfully submit…"

"That may be so, Mr. Brackman. I must say, Mr. Willow, that I have never had anything like this happen to me before."

"I believe we could find precedent for it, your Honor."

"Yes, I'm sure we could, Mr. Willow," McIntyre said, "especially if we looked at Section 31.45 of the
Cyclopedia of Federal Procedure
."

"Your Honor, I'm not familiar with that section."

"I
am
, Mr. Willow."

"Forgive me."

"The section states, Mr. Willow — and next time you might wish to consult it before asking that a case be reopened — the section states that even after testimony has been entirely closed, the Court may receive additional evidence in its own discretion."

"Your Honor," Brackman said, "if this were a case before a jury…"

"It is not a jury case," McIntyre said, "but even if it were, Mr. Brackman, the Court could in its discretion permit additional testimony."

"I'm sorry, your Honor, I was not aware of that."

"I would like to remind Mr. Willow, however, that such additional testimony cannot be allowed for light reasons, such as to let in cumulative or immaterial evidence."

"Your Honor," Willow said, "I believe this testimony to be exceedingly important, and I know the record would be incomplete without it."

"If your Honor please," Genitori said, "I do not see how in good conscience we can exclude any testimony that may shed light on the matter before us."

"Mr. Brackman?"

"Your Honor, my summation was predicated on what the record already shows. If additional testimony…"

"I would have no objection," Willow said, "to Mr. Brackman making a second summation after the new testimony is given."

"Your Honor, I know you can in your discretion — you have just informed me that you can in your discretion reopen the case, but…"

"Don't you feel the record should be complete, Mr. Brackman?"

"Indeed, I do, your Honor. But I also feel Mr. Willow should have called all his witnesses when it was time for him to do so, and not—"

"Your Honor, this was unforeseen, and as much a surprise to me as it was to the Court."

"Well," McIntyre said flatly, "I will reopen the case."

"Thank you, your Honor."

"Let the record so indicate. Mr. Brackman, I will allow you to make a new summation later if you so desire."

"Thank you," Brackman said.

"Call your witness, Mr. Willow."

"Edna Belle Driscoll," Willow said.

"Edna Belle Driscoll, please take the stand," the clerk said.

Ebie rose hesitantly, and looked inquiringly at Willow, who nodded. She put her bag down on the bench in the jury box, looked plaintively at her husband, and then walked to where the clerk was waiting with the Bible.

"Edna Belle Driscoll, you do solemnly swear that the testimony you are about to give to the Court in this issue shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do," Ebie said.

Her voice was very low. She looked puzzled for a moment as she tried to find the steps leading to the witness stand. When she located them, she moved rapidly to the chair, and then hesitated again before sitting. She looked up at the judge once, and then turned away as Willow approached her.

"Mrs. Driscoll," he said, "are you familiar with the novel
The Paper Dragon
?"

"I am."

"How many times have you read it?"

"Many times. I don't remember the exact number of times."

"Would you say you've read it more than twenty times?"

"Yes."

"From cover to cover?"

"Yes, from cover to cover."

"Then surely you are familiar with the nurse in the book, the woman called Lieutenant Jan Reardon."

"Yes, I'm familiar with her."

"What color hair does Jan Reardon have?"

"Blond."

"Will the record show, your Honor, that Mrs. Driscoll's hair is blond. What color eyes does Jan Reardon have?"

"Blue."

"Will the record show, your Honor, that Mrs. Driscoll's eyes are blue. Where is Jan Reardon from originally, what part of the country?"

"The South."

"Where in the South?"

"Alabama."

"Where are
you
from, Mrs. Driscoll?"

"Alabama."

"Mrs. Driscoll, is Jan Reardon left-handed?"

"Yes."

"Are you left-handed?"

"Yes."

"Does Jan Reardon have a crescent-shaped scar on her thigh?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a similar scar on your thigh?"

"Yes. Yes, I have."

"What was your maiden name?"

"Dearborn."

"Your Honor, may I point out to the Court that the name Reardon with the single exception of the letter
b
contains the exact same letters as are in the name Dearborn, transposed."

"What was that again?" McIntyre said. He picked up a pencil and moved a pad into place before him.

"The name Reardon, your Honor, can be formed by dropping the
b
from Dearborn, and then transposing the letters."

McIntyre wrote silently for a moment, and then studied the pad. "Yes, I see that," he said. "Proceed, Mr. Willow."

"Mrs. Driscoll, can you tell us when and where you first met your husband?"

"At Pratt Institute in 1947."

"Were you a student there at the time?"

"I was."

"How long had you been at the school?"

"A year."

"How long had Mr. Driscoll been there?"

"He had just entered. He was a first-year student."

"And you were an upper classman?"

"Yes, I was in my second year. It was a three-year non-accredited course. The course I was taking."

"So the relationship between you and your husband, in terms of seniority at least, was similar to the relationship between Lieutenant Alex Cooper and Jan Reardon in the novel
The Paper Dragon
?"

"Yes, it was."

"Was it similar in any other respects?"

"Yes."

"In which respects, Mrs. Driscoll?"

"All of them. Everything."

"Would you explain, please?"

"It was our story."

"Whose story, Mrs. Driscoll?"

"Ours. Dris and me."

"Dris?"

"Yes, my husband."

"Is that what you normally call him?"

"It is what I've always called him."

"What does the nurse call Cooper in
The Paper Dragon
?"

"Coop."

"Your Honor," Brackman said, "I have remained silent until now because I wanted to see where Mr. Willow was heading. It seems to me now that he is introducing Mrs. Driscoll's testimony as that of an expert on the novel
The Paper Dragon
, and I must object to this."

"Your Honor," Willow said, "I am introducing her testimony as that of an expert on what actually happened between her and her husband beginning in the year 1947 and ending in October of 1950. I don't think, your Honor, that I'm going to have to elicit too many responses in order to show what
The Paper Dragon
was all about."

"Overruled. Go on, Mr. Willow."

"If I understand you correctly, Mrs. Driscoll, you are saying that the events in
The Paper Dragon
parallel certain
real
events, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Can you give us any examples of this?"

"Well… for… for example when Dris and I first met, we had a fight, not a fight, a sort of an argument. He asked me out and I… I thought he was just a fresh kid, he was younger than I, you know, and a first-year student, so I tried to discourage him, but he kept insisting, said he was going to be a famous artist one day, all that sort of thing. And the… the same thing happens in the book. When the lieutenant first gets to Korea, he's sort of a… a brash person and he tries to get friendly with this nurse, who just refuses his advances. They have this terrible argument, and he tells her she'll be sorry because he's going to be a war hero with the Medal of Honor, you know, he goes on about how he's going to win the Korean war singlehanded, but she still refuses. Then… she's sent to Tokyo for a week's leave, and he tries to find her, but he can't until a senior nurse in the book—"

"What's her name?"

"The nurse's? Major Astor. Catharine Astor."

"Is she based on any real person?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"An older girl at Pratt. Her name was Cathy Ascot, and she told Dris where he could find me. You see, I was sick in bed for a week or so after we met, and Dris didn't know where I lived or anything."