Anthology 2005

Reparations

The courtroom donned an electric buzz as the spectators and press filed in.  They were all chatting excitedly, as if unaware as to the seriousness of the situation.  The members of the press were already scribbling furiously in their notebooks, busy as bees, no doubt putting their own interesting “spins” on the proceedings; no matter, it’s never about the straight, pure facts anyway.  Whatever will sell the most copies becomes the truth. 

The oaken courtroom filled quickly and the humming, fidgeting mass was undaunted by the stiff, uncomfortable atmosphere.  An amalgam of conversations could be heard in the midst of the din:  recounts of the breakfast menu, dinner plans, Aunt Marge’s gout, rumors of a scandalous separation between the rabbi and his wife, and discussions of the latest dry spell.  These were the discourses that dominated the effervescent mob.  These petty little paltries made it painfully obvious that there was a great disparity between the way that the people felt and the way that they should have.  As rapidly as ever, the journalists’ pens scratched at their paper, spinning half-truths and whole lies. 

A few moments later, when the audience was already showing signs of tedium sickness, the jurors quietly marched in and took their seats.  Though the jury was silent and sequestered from the rest of the courtroom, their body language loudly confirmed that they shared a similar mindset with the members of the crowd.  One man repeatedly glanced impatiently at his watch, as if he was afraid that he’d miss his afternoon train home.  One woman continually uttered long, deep, exaggerated sighs as she rolled her liquid blue eyes toward the ceiling.  There was a plump, beet-faced beef of a man who frequently yawned, rubbed his eyes, and tried to keep himself shaken awake from what was evidently a long, sleepless night of “study and deliberation.”  The other jurors, who like their companions were unable to escape from their “civic duty,” equally exhibited signs of apathy and impatience. 

Shortly before the trial was slated to reconvene, several men in crisp business suits, clearly of the latest and costliest fashion, strolled stiffly yet confidently into the throbbing courtroom.  These men were obviously the esteemed attorneys of the law and were members of the breed who, though they know the ins and outs and loopholes of every civil and criminal law in print, often tend to demonstrate almost complete ignorance of any moral or ethical regulation in practice.  A few inaudible whispers passed between the learned men, no doubt last-minute tweaks of their battle plans. 

The next grand entrance attracted numerous stares, points, and huddled whispers from the audience: the accused, an aging, harmless-looking gentleman, was being led in by an escort of two armed guards.  The clamor quickly subsided into a dull hum as the crowd showed the first signs of any interest in the case.  A woman craned her neck so far towards this new occupant that it seemed as if she would topple out of her seat onto the cold stone floor.  The accused calmly allowed himself to be led up to the front of the courtroom where his protective glass barrier awaited.  It seemed odd that such a man, by appearances, should need such protection; he looked more like an amicable, grandfatherly gentleman than a sadistic killer.

Once the accused had been seated for a few moments, the crowd’s attention was once again diverted to various inconsequential trifles as if they were in a marketplace on any other ordinary Thursday.  The courtroom became deathly silent as the bailiff declared the “All Hail.”  The loud creaks and screeches of the ancient furnishings accompanied the audience to their feet as the judges, seven of them, marched slowly and deliberately into the room.  It somehow seemed ironically appropriate that seven judges would be the ones who would dispense punishment to this man, the man who had sinned against God and His people. 

They said that this trial wasn’t about blaming the defendant for all the crimes committed against the Jewish people; they said that it was just about punishing him for his own personal crimes.  Everyone knew better than that, though.  This was just as much about the whole thing as it was about the defendant’s personal crimes.  No amount of “political correctness” could convince the world otherwise.

After the judges’ initial announcements, the trial officially continued.  That day’s proceedings were much like any other day’s, with statements from the prosecution and defense, objections, windy, prefabricated speeches, self-contradictions, and the usual rhetorical banter.  As the trial progressed, the air in the crowded interior became increasingly hotter and thicker.  The ladies in the room brought out their fancy fans, printed with roses or daffodils or daisies, and the men began tugging at their collars as if to release built-up steam.  The only people in the courtroom who showed no signs of discomfort were the seven judges, and oddly enough, the accused man.  The eight of them, the defendant in his fortified booth and the judges elevated on their stands, stood calmly in a striking contrast to the rest of the boiling, fidgeting congregation.  It seemed strange that the soon-to-be-condemned man was so cool and complacent as he stared at his future executioners.

Finally, after hours of deliberation, the attorneys were asked to present their final witnesses.  Both of the men stood firm, silently affirming that they had both exhausted their resources, and the judges, with a nod of approval, prepared to address the jury.  The preparations were cut short, though, when the entire courtroom was suddenly enveloped in an inky black darkness.  No sun poured from the large windows that stood on either side of the courtroom and every electrical light in the room was rendered useless.  There was only darkness and the occasional muffled shriek of a frightened attendee. 

An eerily cold breeze began to drift throughout the courtroom, driving away the simmering heat and leaving the occupants chilled and shivering.  Just as several of the frightened spectators began to stand and attempt to grope their way out of the harsh, oppressive darkness, the room began to quiver slightly as a dim, phantasmal light began to accrue just outside of the courtroom door.  The strange light slowly and steadily grew in intensity until, without warning, it silently exploded, releasing its contents, forcing the heavy wooden doors open with a deafening bang.

The supernatural light flooded the main aisle of the courtroom, leaving its occupants stunned with fear.  The judges’ eyes widened with horror as they beheld, marching toward the stand, a mass of ghostly shapes.  The strange specters slowly and deliberately marched toward the judges with sad, pleading countenances.  Their bodies were vaporous and transparent, but the infamous yellow star could clearly be seen on the arms of each of them.  They were a motley group: men, women, children, and babies all helped to form their ghostly ranks.  As the first in that ethereal parade reached the judges’ stand, they simply looked pleadingly up at the judges with their sad, heartbreaking eyes and then slowly lowered their destitute heads to the ground before they disappeared forever, but for every ghost that disappeared, there were hundreds more to take its place.  The macabre procession continued for what seemed like hours as what had to have been millions of the phantasmal Jews passed pleadingly before the judges.  Occasionally, a member of the audience would begin to loudly sob as he or she recognized a deceased loved one within the spirits’ ranks.  Then, as the final visitors disappeared from the courtroom, the darkness lifted, leaving the crowded room bathed in warm sunlight.  Though the afternoon sun was as hot as it ever was, the occupants of the courtroom remained cold, trapped within the icy caverns of their sadness.

The trial was quickly finished, expedited as it was by the ghostly procession.  The verdict and the sentence were declared with a grave simplicity: “Guilty under punishment of death.”  The sentence was carried out also with an unusually serious demeanor and in an unprecedented timely fashion.  As the condemned man’s body swung heavily from the rope, the entire world was reminded of what a desperate situation that mankind was trapped in.  Would the death of this man bring those millions of Jews back from the dead?  Definitely not, but to those people present at the trial, it was a start. 

— Josh Stamper

This story was inspired by Arendt's Eichmann in Jerusalem.