The Trial of Fallen Angels (32 page)

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I grew up on a farm in central Pennsylvania, but my folks weren’t farmers. My father was an insurance agent and my mother a homemaker. Since we didn’t earn our living from the land, I wasn’t accepted by the neighboring farm kids. Years of escalating bullying, harassment, and intimidation followed. One night, this culminated with a group of them staging an attack on my home and shooting and killing one of our dogs while she was asleep in her pen—our sweet little beagle named Paula that we had raised from a puppy. The police did nothing. A week later, after another nighttime attack when they blew up our mailbox, I went chasing after them in a blind rage with a loaded .32 caliber revolver in my car. I cornered them against a barn. When they got out of their truck in the darkness with the high beams of my car focused on them, I grabbed the revolver from the passenger seat.

At that moment, I imagined how good I would feel to finally get justice, gunning them down after all they had put me through. I had seen it many times in the movies and on television—the victimized hero finally gets his revenge. I had suffered so much abuse and humiliation at their hands. And now they had gone and killed an innocent creature. If they would shoot my dog, maybe I was next? It was time to stop them and make them pay. They deserved what was coming to them. I opened the door.

But at the very last second, in a startling moment of unexpected clarity, I thought of everything I would be giving up if I pulled the trigger—and everything I would be taking from them too. In the blink of an eye, I was required to make a calculation of guilt and punishment, of violence and peace, of past, present, and future, and of whether to take another human life. I was the judge, jury, and executioner. It could have gone either way. But somehow, miraculously, despite all of the pain I had endured, I realized at that moment that the price of getting revenge was just too high. I took my hand off the gun and drove home. It was a fateful decision that would shape the rest of my life.

Soon thereafter, I decided I wanted to become a lawyer—so I could get justice against the people who wronged me, and others, legitimately, without having to pay a price for it—in fact, while actually
getting paid
for it. Or so I thought.

I worked hard and graduated from an Ivy League law school. I did an internship with the Philadelphia District Attorney’s Office and a judicial clerkship with a federal trial court judge. After that, I joined a prestigious law firm where I practiced civil litigation and earned a handsome salary.

I became very good at litigating and winning cases. I overwhelmed and destroyed my opponents with legal research, depositions, interrogatories, and motions—the cunning weaponry of the civil litigator. Each victory brought for my clients and me a thrill. But something unexpected happened. Over time, I began to realize that each of these victories had come at an enormous cost to both my clients and me. To get the justice we so desperately craved, we had to devote virtually all of our energy and waking moments to devising new and better ways of inflicting suffering upon the other side until they either surrendered or were defeated. Strangely, this meant enduring the same suffering ourselves—because we became the instruments of their suffering. My clients and I were forced to relive, obsess over, and amplify the original wrong that had started the conflict in the first place—whether it was a personal injury, an illness, family strife, a criminal act, a governmental prosecution, or a business dispute. Some cases lasted years, meaning that we were, in effect, revictimizing ourselves over and over again, digging at the old wound, keeping it alive and raw. Amazingly, I, as the lawyer, was actually paid a small fortune to do this to my clients—and myself. Yet despite the money, and the victories, I was actually
less
happy with my life—and so were my clients. After the initial “high” of winning wore off, we were left feeling worse but wanting even more. In the midst of all this, I began asking myself: Am I winning battles here but losing a much greater war? How can this be?

My grandfather was a devout Brethren pastor. I was raised Episcopalian and considered becoming an Episcopal priest myself. I have since gone on to study the world’s major religions and have become a member of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers). So I began to look to my spiritual training for answers. Jesus teaches in the Sermon on the Mount that when we are wronged, we should not seek justice but should instead turn the other cheek and forgive. The Buddha has a similar message. I had never understood this injunction. When people hurt me, I instinctively want to hurt them back. They should pay for their crime, and I don’t feel better until they do. That is what justice and the courts are all about, and that is what Moses set forth in the laws upon which most Western and Middle Eastern justice systems are based: “An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.” But here was Jesus saying the exact opposite. He seemed to be saying that you are better off just driving away, like I did that night with the farm kids. And by implication, he also seemed to be saying that the legal profession and the entire justice system are fundamentally flawed. This created a personal dilemma for me professionally and spiritually, but it is also a dilemma with which every human being must wrestle. In this world, we will inevitably feel wronged countless times and in countless ways during our lives. What is the path to restoring our happiness and peace when this happens: seeking justice or offering forgiveness?

This is the fundamental conflict that plays out in
The Trial of Fallen Angels
. I wanted to examine this question under the most extreme circumstances I could imagine—during the afterlife in the courtroom at the Final Judgment, where the stakes are all of eternity and where God Himself is called upon to answer for the ultimate act of justice, the Great Flood. What would it be like to be a lawyer who represents souls in this celestial courtroom? What would it be like to be a soul who must face this Judge—and confront all the fateful choices made during a lifetime? And what if a lawyer in this place was asked to represent the soul of his or her own murderer at the Final Judgment? Would there be any room left for the inconceivable possibility of forgiveness?

While exploring these fundamental questions of the human condition, I wanted to write a novel that would at the same time be a thrilling, page-turning story. As I wrote the book and discovered the unexpected answers to these questions, I was astonished. And transformed.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It is with deep humility that my name appears on the cover of this book. In many ways, the history of this book goes back thousands of years, and it is the work of thousands of authors. I am better referred to as a scribe.

But even scribes are the beneficiaries of indispensable assistance that makes their work possible. In my case, this begins with my extraordinarily generous wife, Christine, who labored beside me on this project as an unremittingly steadfast supporter and an unrelentingly demanding editor for more than a decade. Her gifts to me and the world leave me speechless and in awe. My daughter, Alexandra, was less than a year old when I began writing this book but during the process became old enough and talented enough as a writer to edit it like a professional. She will be more than a mere scribe very soon. My son, Adam, has not yet reached that age of maturity, but he is old enough to have borne the burden of a father obsessed with a dream. For bearing that burden so well and with such patience, humor, cheerfulness, and love, I extend to him my gratitude and my hope that he chases his dreams, because sometimes dreams come true. Others who fit into this category of inspirers, boosters, nourishers, and bearers include my mother, Faye Kimmel, my brother and sister-in-law, Martin and Sherri Kimmel, and my cousins Myers Kimmel and Sielke Caparelli and her husband, David.

I received crucial early reassurance and incisive editing from my high school friend turned outstanding high school English teacher, Stephen Everhart. I received crucial ongoing encouragement and equally incisive editing from my encyclopedic and multitalented father-in-law, Louis Savelli. This book has benefited greatly from his intellectual prowess and sensitivity.

Finally, but in every bit first, I shower highest praise and appreciation on the dedicated professionals who took risks and devoted their skills to bringing this work to a wider audience. Sam Pinkus was the first literary agent to become an advocate for this book, followed several years later by the immensely talented Matt Bialer. Publishing giant Larry Kirshbaum later took up the mantle, not only as a literary agent but also as a penetrating editor and sage who brought unexpected nuance and focus to the work. The book is now in the capable hands of Jay Mandel and wonderfully enthusiastic film agent Jerry Kalajian. Globe-trotters Lance Fitzgerald and Tom Dussel have secured the publication of the book in other lands and languages, while erudite and intrepid copy editor Mark Birkey has greatly improved the readability of the English text (any errors that remain are solely mine). Editorial assistant Liz Stein makes everything happen, and Lisa Amoroso and Chris Welch provided fantastic designs for the cover and interior of the book. And an unidentified but highly appreciated team of artists, salespeople, distributors, booksellers, website designers, readers, and social networkers will perform the miraculous.

With the exception of those whom I may have forgotten and from whom I beg forgiveness, there is one person left to thank. When publisher and editor Amy Einhorn at Amy Einhorn Books first read the manuscript, she said to me: “I don’t normally publish spiritual novels, but if I did, I would publish this one.” I can think of no higher compliment for this book. Or for its publisher. Amy took a hugely courageous leap of faith to publish something from beyond this world. In her brilliant editing, she contributed portions of her soul. She is one of the heroes in publishing. I will be forever grateful.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

James Kimmel, Jr., is the author of
Suing for Peace: A Guide for Resolving Life’s Conflicts
. He received a doctorate in jurisprudence from the University of Pennsylvania and is a lawyer who focuses on the intersection of law and spirituality and on helping individuals with mental illness and addictions in the criminal justice system. A member of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers), he lives in Pennsylvania with his wife and their two children. This is his first novel.