Chapter 4: The Trial Part 2: An Unexpected Gift

"Troubled men often do troubled things. Are we to assume that a man such in love with life...could not be capable of killing another man, if the circumstances surrounding the occasion were to set something off inside of him, something that just might let

Phineas stood glaring at young Gabriella ponderously, with the afore mentioned grin upon his face, for nearly an entire minute before he began his cross-examinations. During that time the courtroom was silent but for the slow ticking of the second hand carried forth to my right ear from the large circular clock on the wall, and the heavy nasal respiring issued forth from Mr. Goolsby into my left.

The district attorney stood rubbing his hands like a glutton before a great feast, in deep reflection of the inadvertent morsel Ms. O'Malley had provided him. Finally he spoke, and with an ominous dark and gravelly voice that only he and the devil himself could manage to utter, he questioned the dear innocent Gabriella, squeezing her like prey within the vice of his intellect; at least, so he thought.

"My dear Ms. O'Malley, I will forego the personal addresses you so generously granted Mr. Goolsby, and will remain within the professional graces bestowed by this court. I will however, Ms. O'Malley, be brief and to the point." To say the girl was frightened would be an understatement, for her eyes never left Mr. Feinstein's face, nor blinked for fear of being accused herself of some unexpected crime. "You did say, Ms. O'Malley, if I am not mistaken, that you are familiar with the defendant Mr. Marcoux, did you not?"

"I did," she rejoined nervously.

"And did you also state that the two of you had hardly spoken to each other during the three years you have been acquainted?"

"I did," again with a nervous quiver in her voice.

"So, am I to believe that you should know this man quite so well, when you've hardly uttered a word to him, or him to you for that matter, Ms. O'Malley?" This question struck offense with the girl, and despite the unexpected turn of events, I should say that she handled herself exceptionally well; indubitably a fortunate circumstance for me.

"In my field, one learns never to judge a book by its cover, Mr. Feinstein. I know Jack very well, however you may look at it; in fact, I suspect I know him even better than you do. And the fact that one does not speak, gives no relevance as to what kind of person they are, or else you assume the worst from those who are unable to speak."

"Well said, Ms. O'Malley, I would expect nothing less from such a smart girl, but do please extend me the same benefits as those of Mr. Goolsby and humor me for the moment." Feinstein's smile was ever present in his speech. "Much can be assumed in a court of law, Ms. O'Malley. All we are concerned with today are the facts. That being said, I would assume that the council, the honorable Mr. Doogood, as well as the rest of the jury and court present would not be so indisposed as to grant me a brief request."

"That depends on what the request is," said the honorable Judge Doogood.

"Of course, your honor, it is coming presently. I would like to test Ms. O'Malley, on this learned judgment of character. I would like to present myself as the test subject, having nothing to gain nor lose by her judgement of myself in this case. It is after all Mr. Goolsby that must prove his client's innocense. I am simply trying to disprove Ms. O'Malley's gift for observation and judgement."

The judge pondered this suggestion briefly as he rubbed both temples with his forefingers and spoke thusly, "I will grant it, Mr. Feinstein, but mind how you approach this test. I will hold you in contempt if things get out of hand."

"Absolutely, your honor, and I thank you." These gracious statements being said, Mr. Feinstein turned once again to Gabriella. "Have you a professional degree, Ms. O'Malley?"

"I do not," she answered, not in the least embarrased.

"So then it is safe to say that you are neither a psychiatrist or a psychologist, or any such person trained in the judgement of chracter or inner workings of the human mind?"

"It is," Gabriella responded, again with unbreaking composure.

"We all have an instilled sense of judgement, Ms. O'Malley, whether it be false or true. Prove to me, before the court that this gift is genuine, so that all present can place faith in everything you've said about Mr. Marcoux. Will you grant me this favor and stand as my judge Ms. O'Malley?"

"If you insist," she granted with a slight beligerance.

"Well here I stand," quoth Feinstein, postured like a scarescrow, feet placed neatly together and arms spread out to his sides.

Gabriella glanced him up and down a few times until her eyes came to a standstill gaze upon his face and his superfluous grin. She broke this gaze only long enough to gain an accepting nod from the sweaty Mr. Goolsby beside me, and perhaps from me, for her gaze met mine only long enough to instill a sense of trust.

"To begin with, I would say that you are a workaholic, Mr. Feinstein," she turned once more to the prosecutor. "And a perfectionist, though not very tidy, I might add."

"And how did you come to this conclusion?" asked Feinstein, his arms now relaxed at his sides.

"You carry two brief cases, but your papers are spread uneatly across the table, and yet as I have observed you, I can tell that despite their untidy nature you appear to know exactly what each paper is and where you've placed it. I can only assume, that you've spent countless hours pouring over these papers in order to memorize their contents.

Furthermore, you are an older gentleman, and the absense of a wedding ring on your finger would either indicate that you have yet to fall in love, or you have not had the time to bother. I would lean more towards the latter." Feinstein's smile broadened at this suggestion, so much so that if it grew any larger I feared his face might crack. But young Gabriella didn't stop there. She continued in this manner, "Your clothes are wrinkled, your socks do not match, your left shoelace is untied, your cufflinks are missing, your tie crooked, and your hair unkempt. I don't deny that you are good at what you do, Mr. Feinstein. Your record would indicate that you are, having never lost a case, as you have boasted about in the halls. So I would judge that you care more about your job than you do your appearance, a trait commonly shared with those that love what they do to such a degree that it often consumes their entire lives."

"Well said, Ms. O'Malley, very well said," applauded Mr. Feinstein. "And I stand here before the entire court as witness that you would be correct in every aspect. would you care to add anything else?"

"Yes, I would Mr. Feinstein," Gabriella countered with a grin of her own, glowing with a sense of empowerment. Feinstein, through the very cause of his misplaced assumptions, handed this dear librarian a blank check, signed and in debt to the invulnerability he himself engineered. In hopes of not sounding too facetious, my dear Gabriella may have seemed but just a mouse to this big cat prosecutor, but she knew exactly what buttons to push...she discovered the chink in Mr. Feinstein's armor.

And she thrust swiftly thus, "your skin is flushed red and you have a bloated appearance about you. I would assume that you suffer from some medical ailment that you've had some difficulty to control, or you enjoy drinking a great deal." I would have never believed it possible, but at these words, Feinstein's smile vanished from his face and he suddenly fell pale. A white flash came over him and tinged his reddened state to create an unappealing pinkish pigment about his face and neck. "Being the boastful man that you are, Mr. Feinstein, I might go so far as to judge that a man of your esteemed position, going even further to state that you are a narcissist, wouldn't bother with just any drink, but prefer the most expensive bourbon or scotch above all others."

"Right again," Feinstein granted, though with extreme agitation. The rest of the court, including myself, sat in silence, struck with an unbelievable appreciation for this librarian. Obviously, Mr. Feinstein had not considered to what extent Gabriella's gift of judgement involved, and for the next few minutes, no matter how damning his questioning Gabriella would be to my case, it would have little to no effect on the rest of us. "I admit your gift suprises even me, Ms. O'Malley, and if anyone here is left with any doubts, then they are indeed a doubting Thomas. But let us continue with the case, shall we. Confirming now, that your gift of observation is genuine, I would like to revisit something you said to Mr. Feinstein. You stated that Mr. Marcoux was suffering inside, and if anything I now say is not accurate please correct me. You said that you could see it in his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hide it; something screaming to get out. Would you please inform the court just what you meant by this statement?"

Gabriella breathed deeply and sighed as she bent her head towards the floor. "I meant just what I said, though it would be hard to explain to someone that can't see it for themselves. He's a troubled man, but certainly you can't hold that against him."

"And why not, Ms. O'Malley? Troubled men often do troubled things. Are we to assume that a man such in love with life, as you said, could not be capable of killing another man, if the circumstances surrounding the occasion were to set something off inside of him, something that just might let whatever it is screaming inside of him out - to gain control over him - even long enough for him to snap and carry out such a desperate action that he has been alleged to have done?"

"We might assume so," she rejoined with an angled brow, "and we might assume not. Who can say whether it could or not? I am not a psychiatrist as we have already determined."

"But you have already proven before the court, that you may know this man better than anyone here. All I am asking for is your opinion, having observed this unnatural suffering within Mr. Marcoux, as to whether you believe it is possible?"

"I thought we were only concerned with the facts here, Mr. Feinstein, not opinions," Gabriella glanced at him again; her smile returning once more.

"Tou-che, Ms. O'Malley. We will leave our questions to the facts."

The court was once again shrounded beneath an awkward silence as Mr. Feinstein glared at Gabriella in uninspired awe. "I do have but one more thing to address, Ms. O'Malley," he advised, as he returned slowly and dejectedly back to his table. There he snatched a stack of papers from the middle of his disorderly scattered mess without even bother to check what the papers consisted of and returned to the witness stand.

"I might assume your gift of observation might very well have informed you precisely what it is I hold in my hand, Ms. O'Malley, but I wouldn't want to be held in contempt. So, I will just tell you myself. I have here a document retrieved from a shipping yard from the state of New York. It is dated July 17, 1918. Does this date mean anything to you, Ms. O'Malley?"

"Yes, it does?"

"And what exactly does it mean?"

"It was the date my grandmother arrived in America from France."

"Precisely, Ms. O'Malley. This document contains a list of immigrants that came to America on a shipping freight on that very date. Would you please verify before the court that this is indeed your Grandmother's name?"

Feinstein placed the document in front of Ms. O'Malley. Jumbled within the large list of names, three names were circled, one of which was Gabriella's Grandmother.

"It is my Grandmother's name," she stated proudly.

"Thank you, Ms. O'Malley, and would you care to inform the court if you recognize the other two names that I have circled."

"I do recognize them."

"And who are they, Ms. O'Malley? Who are these two people that shared this journey to America with your Grandmother?"

It's unfortunate the testimony she had given to this point did little to deter the effect of the evidence Mr. Feinstein was about to present, but that I must postpone for the moment, for to reveal the names that were about to depart from this precious girl's lips would spoil the surprise. For now, let us depart back to my own little world, when I was just a child, and discover how my eyes first perceived the world around me.