John E. Woods - The Execution of Justice

Granted, Im putting all this down in an orderly reportits the pedant in me maybeso that the case can be closed. I want to force myself to go over one more time the events that led to the acquittal of a murderer and to the death of an innocent man. I want one more time to think through the steps I was lured into taking, the measures I took, the possibilities left undone. I want conscientiously to gauge whatever chances may still remain for the justice system. But above all I am writing this report because I have time, lots of time, two months at least. Ive just returned from the airport (the bars I visited on the way dont count, nor is my present condition of any consequence. I am dead drunk, but Ill be sober in the morning). The huge machine, with Dr. honoris causaIsaak Kohler aboard, was rising into the night sky, howling, bellowing, toward Australia as I leapt from my VW, the safety off my revolver. It was one of his finest maneuvers to get that phone call through to me in time. Presumably the old man knew what I was up to; everybody knows I havent got the money to follow him.

So I have no choice but to wait till he comes back, sometime, in June or July maybe, to wait, to get drunk now and then, or frequently, depending on my finances, and to write, the only appropriate activity for a lawyer whose career is a total shambles. But the canton deputy is mistaken about one thing: Time wont mend his crime, my waiting wont mitigate it, my being drunk wont blot it out, my writing wont excuse it. By presenting the truth, Ill fix it in my mind, enabling me at some pointin June, as I said, or in July or whenever he comes back (and he will come back)to do deliberately, whether drunk or sober, what I was going to do just now purely on impulse. The report is meant not just to provide evidence of a murder but to prepare for one as well. For a just murder.

Sober and back again in my study: Justice can be restored only by a crime. That afterward Ill have to commit suicide is unavoidable. Not that I intend to avoid responsibility; on the contrary, it is the only responsible way to actif not in a legal sense, then in a humane one. Possessing the truth, I cannot prove it. I lack witnesses to the critical moment. If I take my own life, it will make it easier for me to be believed even without witnesses. I do not approach death like some scientist executing himself in an experiment for the sake of science. I die because I have thought my situation through to its conclusion.

Scene of the Crime: It plays a role very early on. The Du Thtre with its rococo faade is one of the few showpieces of our hopelessly overbuilt city. The restaurant is located on three floors, something not everyone knows, most people think there are only two. On the ground floor, as morning drags oneverybody is up early in this townyou find sleepy students, and business people as well, who then often stay through midday; later, after the coffee and kirsch, it gets quiet, the waitresses become invisible, and not until around four do the weary teachers drop by, the tired civil servants settle in. The crush, of course, arrives for dinner, and then, after ten-thirty, besides the politicians, managers, and creatures of finance, come the various representatives of the free professions, some very free, plus a few slightly shocked strangersour city loves to put on international airs. On the second floor, then, everything turns so swanky it stinks. Stink is the right word for it: The two low rooms with their red wallpaper are like a steamy jungle, but people put up with it all the same, the women in evening gowns, the gentlemen often in black tie. The air is saturated with sweat, perfume, and more to the point, the odor of our citys culinary specialities, scallops of veal with home fries, etc. People meet here (essentially the same folks as downstairs, only in gala costume) after premieres and after big business deals, not to pull them off but to celebrate their having been pulled off. On the third floor, however, the character of the Du Thtre changes all over again. Youre taken aback by a whiff of dissipation.