with curiosity, as if they were trying to guess the future: Will he be strict or understanding, inflexible or easily swayed?
“Be seated,” he says, greeting the court with a nod.
A dry, dispassionate, impersonal voice that speaks not so much for an individual as for a system. This man has only one concern: to forge ahead, rejecting any compromise, or any deviation from the law, which is immutable and incorruptible. The clerk announces that the court is convened in order to examine case number 613-D:
New York State v. Werner Sonderberg
. The judge wants to know if all the participants are present. The answer is yes. The prosecutor, the defendant, the defense lawyers—all are present. Are they all ready? the judge asks. Yes.
The first session is now open. The trial can begin. Suddenlyit occurs to me: if you think about it, I’ve got a part to play here. Much will depend on my articles. The judge may read them. Will he be influenced by my comments?
“Will the defendant please stand up? Kindly state your name, age, place of birth, profession, and place of residence.”
“Werner Sonderberg. Twenty-four years old. Born in West Germany. A student at New York University. I’ve been in America for a year. I live in downtown Manhattan. Thirty-three West Fourth Street.”
A slow, calm, precise voice: someone who controls his feelings. He’ll know how to defend himself. My thoughts wander and take me to the distant past: if he had lived in the dark times, he would have worn a uniform—but which one? I immediately stop myself: I have no right to imagine him in any uniform. Who appointed me judge?
“Enter your plea: guilty or not guilty?”
A required question in the United States. Usually it produces no emotion in the courtroom. The defendant hesitates a second before raising his voice as if he wished to convey a tone of gravitas and replies, “Guilty.”
He stops to catch his breath. Stifled murmurs on the benches. Some members of the audience are clearly disappointed. After this admission, no dramatic developments can be expected. Or eloquent attacks.
“… and not guilty,” the defendant hastens to add.
Surprised, not to say shocked, some observers lean forward to scrutinize the young German’s face: in this courtroom,no such statement has ever been heard before. Judge Gardner raises his hand to call the court to order.
“This is not an acceptable answer. It is my duty to inform the defendant that the law requires him to answer guilty or not guilty.”
The attorney stands up and takes the floor in order to speak for his client.
“Your Honor, will the court allow me to provide an item of information in order to clarify?”
“Mr. Redford, you’re a member of the bar and the procedure holds no secrets for you. Might you have forgotten, for some extraordinary reason, to tell your client that the court allows a plea of guilty or not guilty, but not the two simultaneously?”
“I did make that clear to my client, Your Honor. But he persists in …”
“Mr. Redford, let’s leave the explanations for later. At present, let’s have the defendant tell us in an audible, intelligible voice whether he pleads guilty or not guilty.”
Werner shakes his head.
“So it’s no?” asks Judge Gardner. “Not guilty?”
The attorney whispers a few words into his client’s ear. Then: “Please forgive us, Your Honor, but my client only wished to tell the court that no, he can’t accept the choice, because …”
“In that case,” the judge rules, showing his irritation, “the court will decide for him. Clerk, enter a not guilty plea for the defendant.”
After that, he motions to the defense attorneys and the prosecutor to come closer.
“I expect to see you in my chambers without delay,” he says to them with an intimidating look and in a muffled voice. The hearing is suspended. The court was to reconvene at two p.m.
I run to the newsroom and walk into Paul’s office without knocking: as luck would have
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