Heartfire

Chapter 13 – Judgment Day

John Adams didn't even bother to seat himself comfortably on the bench. It was supposed to be routine. Quill would read out the charge. The young lawyer for the defense would plead his client guilty or not. They'd be back out the door in a few minutes.

It started right. Quill read the charge. It was the normal collection of allegations of dealings with Satan, and as it became clear it was more a peroration than a simple reading of charges, John gaveled him down. “I think we've heard all the charges and you've moved on to opening arguments, Mr. Quill.”

“For a full understanding of the charges, Your Honor, I–”

“I have a full understanding of the charge, as does the defendant,” said John. “We'll hear your elaboration of the particulars at a later time, I'm sure. How does the defendant answer to the charges?”

Verily Cooper rose from his chair, his movement smooth, a perfect gentleman. By contrast, the lanky smith seemed to unfold himself, to come out of the chair like a turtle out of its shell. His chains clanked noisily.

“Alvin Smith, how do you plead?” asked John.

“Not guilty, Your Honor.”

Alvin sat back down, and John started to a

“What is it, Mr. Cooper?”

“I believe it is customary to hear motions.”

“Peremptory motions to dismiss are never granted in witch trials,” John reminded him.

Cooper just stood there, waiting.

“All right, let's have your motion.”

Cooper approached the bench with several petitions written out in an elegant hand.

“What is all this?” demanded Quill.

“It seems,” said John, “that the defendant has some interesting requests. All right, Mr. Cooper. Relieve Mr. Quill's curiosity and read out your motions.”

“First, the defense requests that since the prosecution intends to prosecute a witness named in the records of the parish as Purity Orphan on the same evidence as my client, the trials be joined.”

“That's ridiculous,” said Quill. “Purity is our prime witness and the defense knows it.”

John was amused by Cooper's maneuver, and he enjoyed seeing Quill's outrage. “Are you saying, Mr. Quill, that you are not pla

“I'm saying it's irrelevant to this trial.”

“I believe that Mistress Purity should have the rights of a defendant in this courtroom,” said Cooper, “since the evidence she gives here should not then be able to be turned against her in her own trial.”

Before Quill could answer, John asked him sharply, “Mr. Quill, I'm inclined to grant this motion, unless you are prepared to grant an irrevocable dismissal of all charges against Mistress Purity that might arise from her testimony in this trial.”

Quill was speechless, but only for a moment. It was easy to guess what he was thinking during his hesitation: Was it more important to keep the trials separate, or to be able to try Purity at all? “I have no intention of dismissing on a confessed witch.”

John banged his gavel. “Motion granted. Is Mistress Purity in the court?”

A timid, weary-looking young woman rose from her place behind the prosecutor's bench.

“Mistress Purity,” said John, “do you consent to a joint trial? And, if you do, do you consent to having Mr. Verily Cooper represent you and Alvin Smith together?”

Quill objected. “Her interests are different from those of Alvin Smith!”

“No, they're not,” said Purity. Her voice was surprisingly bold. “I consent to both, sir.”

“Take your place at the defense table,” said John.

They waited while she seated herself on the other side of Verily Cooper. John gave them a moment or two to whisper together. It was Quill who broke the silence. “Your Honor, I feel I must protest this irregular procedure.”

“I'm sorry to hear that you feel that way. Let me know if the feeling becomes irresistible.”

Quill frowned. “Very well, Your Honor, I do protest.”

“Protest noted. Note also, however, that the court takes exception to the practice of deceiving a witness into testifying in someone else's trial, only to find his own testimony used against him in his own trial. I believe this is standard in witch trials.”

“It is a practice justified by the difficulty of obtaining evidence of the doings of Satan.”

“Yes,” said John. “That well-known difficulty. So much depends upon it, don't you think? Next motion, Mr. Cooper.”

“I move that because Mr. Quill has openly and publicly violated the laws against extracting testimony under torture, all evidence obtained from interrogation of either of my clients during and after that torture be barred from these proceedings.”

Quill bounded to his feet. “No physical pain was inflicted on either defendant, Your Honor! Nor was there threat of such pain! The law was strictly adhered to!”

Quill was right, John knew, according to more than a century of precedents since the anti-torture law was adopted after the Salem debacle. The witchers all made sure they didn't cross the line.

“Your Honor,” said Cooper, “I submit that the practice of ru

“The statute says what it says!” retorted Quill.

“Watch your temper, Mr. Quill,” said John. “Mr. Cooper, the language of the statute is clear.”

Cooper then read off a string of citations from contract law dealing with attempts to skirt the letter of a contract by devising practices that were not specifically ba

“That is contract law,” said Quill. “It has no bearing.”

“On the contrary,” said Cooper. “The anti-torture law is a contract between the government and the people, guaranteeing the i

Quill ranted for quite a while after that, and John let him have his say, while the court reporter scribbled furiously. Nothing that Quill was saying would make the slightest difference. John knew that in terms of truth and righteousness, Cooper's position was true and righteous. John also knew that the legal issue was nowhere near as clear. To drag precedents from contract law into witchery law, which was a branch of ecclesiastical law, would expose John to charges that he had wilfully sown confusion, for where would such a practice stop? All the legal traditions would be hopelessly commingled, and then who could possibly learn enough law to practice in any court? It would be an outrageously radical step. Not that John worried about being criticized or censured. He was old, and if people chose not to follow his precedent, so be it. No, the real question was whether it was right to risk damaging the entire system of law in order to effect a righteous outcome in witchery cases.

When Quill wound down, John hadn't yet made up his mind. “The court will take this motion under advisement and a