Free The Traveller by John Katzenbach

said. ‘There is, I believe, a plea.’
    “Yes, your honor.’ One of the young prosecutors had risen. ‘Simply put, in return for a guilty plea to all outstanding charges, the state will waive its pursuit of the death penalty. It is our understanding that Mr Rhotzbadegh will then receive maximum terms on all counts, running consecutively. That would be a total of one hundred and eleven years.’
    He sat down. The judge looked at the defense table.
    That is correct,’ said one of the defense attorneys.
    The judge looked at the defendant. The Lebanese student
    rose.
    ‘Mr Rhotzbadegh, have your attorneys explained what is happening to you?’ “Yes, your honor.’
    ‘And do you agree with the terms of the plea?’ “Yes, your honor.’
    ‘You haven’t been coerced or forced to make this plea?’ ‘No, your honor.’ ‘It is of your own free will?’ “Yes, your honor.’
    “You know that your attorneys had prepared a defense and that you had the right to confront your accusers before a jury of your peers and force the state to prove beyond and to the exclusion of any reasonable doubt these allegations against you?’
    ‘I understand that, your honor. They were prepared to argue that I was insane. I am not.’
    “Do you have anything you wish to add?’ ‘I did what I did because it was written and commanded of me to do. This is what I am guilty of. In the eyes of the Prophet, I am blameless. I will welcome the day that he
    gathers me to his bosom and we walk together in the gardens.’
    Detective Barren heard the sound of reporters taking notes, trying to get all of the suspect’s words. The judge broke in.
    ‘That is fine, and I’m glad that your religious beliefs are a comfort to you …’
    ‘They are indeed, your honor.’ ‘Good. Thank you.’
    The judge made a small hand motion and the Lebanese student sat down. The judge looked out over the crowded courtroom.
    ‘Are the relatives of the victims here?’ The room remained silent. Then an elderly couple sitting to the right of Detective Barren stood up. She saw another couple stand, followed by an entire family. She stood, too. The courtroom continued in fragile quiet and she noticed that Sadegh Rhotzbadegh’s shoulders were twitching. Fear, she thought. He kept his eyes resolutely forward.
    ‘Would any of you care to say anything for the record?’ There was a moment’s confusion. Detective Barren’s imagination flooded with words, about Susan, about what she meant, about what she would have become. Emotion gagged her and she sat down. But one of the others who had stood, a tall and thin, distinguished-seeming man wearing a well-cut blue pinstripe suit, strode forward. His eyes were red. For an instant he stared down at the defense table with a glance that seemed to suck the heat from the room. Then he turned to the judge.
    ‘Your honor. Morton Davies, father of Angela Davies, victim …’ He hesitated.
    ‘We have agreed to this plea because we understand that the system would sooner cheat us, who have suffered such loss, than it would this …’Hestumbled,searchingforaword. ‘ … this refuse.’ He paused.
    ‘Our loss, your honor, our loss …’ And then he stopped.
    His last word hung in the courtroom air, echoing in the sudden silence.
    Detective Barren knew instantly why he’d stopped.
    Everyone did, she thought. How could one put words to
    the loss? She felt her own throat closing, and for an instant
    felt a kind of panic-sense that she wouldn’t be able to
    breathe much more, certainly not at all, if he tried to
    continue.
    He did not. He turned on his heel and walked through
    the room, through the doors to the rear, out to the corridor.
    There was a sudden flash of light as the television
    cameramen staked out in the hallway captured his grief.
    Detective Barren turned again to the front. Sadegh Rhotzbadegh had risen, his attorneys on either side. He was
    being fingerprinted and the judge was intoning the
    sentence, reading the