“Can you give an example of a reservation about your cultural differences?”
Brenda turns to Dagou. He nods, and she relaxes visibly. “Well, as one example,” she says, “I had a schedule and a salary at the restaurant, not huge, but with tips an acceptable compensation, because I wasn’t part of the family. I saw the amount of work Mrs. Chao did—and how much work Dagou did—and I wasn’t confident they had fair compensation. Mr. Chao—my boss—was a dictatorial man. You could even describe him as tyrannical. And I didn’t see how Dagou would ever get ahead unless …”
“Unless?”
“Well, unless he was in a situation where he wasn’t working for his father.”
“So it would be to your personal advantage if Leo Chao were no longer alive?”
“Objection. Relevance.”
“Overruled.”
“That’s an insult, and a leading question.”
“Ms. Wozicek, please answer the question.”
“If you look at it that way, yes.”
“You said you and William became ‘officially involved’ on December twenty-fourth?”
“Yes.”
“That night, did you and William ever discuss a recent windfall of fifty thousand dollars?”
“No.”
“Did you and William discuss your plans to move in together?”
“I said, no.”
“Did you agree to become officially involved with William even though you both knew another woman still considered herself his fiancée?”
“Yes.”
“Did you decide to do this because William’s financial prospects had suddenly improved by fifty thousand dollars? Enough to live together, in the Lakeside Apartments, after his father was dead?”
Brenda flinches. Jerry calls out, “Objection! Speculation! Foundation! Assumes facts not in evidence!” The objection is sustained.
Udweala rephrases the question. “You said you had financial reasons not to be ‘officially involved’ with William Chao. Did you become ‘officially involved’ on the evening of December twenty-fourth, despite the fact that he had not broken off his engagement with his girlfriend, because William now had fifty thousand dollars?”
“For God’s sake, no.” Brenda’s voice is sharp. “I told you, he never told me about any fifty thousand. What are you implying here? You want to make me out as some kind of slut? A whore? You want the jury to think that Dagou tried to pay me to move in with him?”
Again, James glances at Lynn’s juror. Her lips are set, her eyes bright, and James understands that with these blurted questions, Brenda has said exactly what the prosecution wanted.
Dagou Tells the Truth
James knows the history of the defense: How, in the past weeks and months, Jerry, Sarah, Katherine, and Ming have grown united in their belief that Dagou should not testify on his own behalf. That, however carefully they coached him, he would go off message. They all worked to persuade him. But Dagou insisted, with the stubbornness of his father. The jury would expect him to explain. Wouldn’t they believe him if he simply told the truth?
Now Dagou, a mountain of gray serge, towers hopefully before the citizens of Haven, his eyes alight with belief that the truth will set him free.
From where he sits between Fang and Lynn, James prays the jury will believe his brother.
“I’m going to begin by asking you about the freezer room,” Jerry says. “Please estimate: how often did your father go into the freezer room?”
“A couple times a week. If we couldn’t find him, when his car was in the parking lot, he was pretty sure to be down there. We had a joke; we called it his ‘third office.’”
“Who else used the key to the freezer room?”
“Just family. My mother and brothers.”
“Did O-Lan know about the key to the freezer room?”
“Objection, speculation. Foundation.”
“Overruled.”
Dagou shrugs. “It’s possible.” Jerry, focusing on Dagou, nods. “But, to be honest,” Dagou bursts out, “it’s unlikely.” Jerry and Sara look at one another. “See, O-Lan hates raw meat. So the family dealt with the meat. We’ve arranged our habits so she never has to go into the freezer room. And even if she went in there, there’s no way she could read the sign.”
Jerry pauses, then asks, “Are you certain she doesn’t know about the freezer room key?”
“Yes, I’m certain. I suppose I shouldn’t say this, it would help exonerate me to say I was not certain. But I always tell the truth.” Dagou straightens, puffs out his chest, exhibiting his honesty. “No one spends more time at the restaurant than I do! And I’ve never seen her even open the basement door.”
“Did you mention the key in your early morning, December twenty-third, radio broadcast?”
“Yes.”
“On December twenty-fourth, were you and your father the last two to leave the restaurant?”
“I think so.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“Did you and your father engage in an altercation that night?”
“Not more than average. He shouted at me, called me a loser.”
“Did he accuse you of taking a bag of cash from his car?”
“No.”
“Did he threaten to call the police?”
“No.”
“Did you take the key from the shelf in the freezer room?”
“No.” Dagou’s voice is firm.
Jerry nods. He turns toward the judge. “No further ques—”
“There was a moment when I thought about it, to be absolutely truthful,” Dagou says.
Everyone sighs, almost groans.
Jerry turns, a little wearily, to Dagou. “Please describe what you mean.”
“My father went downstairs and into the freezer room. I also went downstairs.”
Jerry’s face is expressionless. “You were both downstairs.”
“Yes.”
“What happened next?”
Dagou stares at his hands, gathering composure, then straight up at Jerry. “When I got down there, the light was on and the door to the room was open. It would have been easy to reach in, take the key, and push the door shut. I actually hesitated.”
He turns to the jury. “But I didn’t do it,” he says. “I don’t know if I can explain. What happened was—it was like grace. I felt released. Someone, something guided me to turn around, to go back up the stairs. I turned around.” He looks proudly at the judge. “I went upstairs, and I left the restaurant.”
“You made the decision not to close the door?” Jerry speaks very clearly.
But Dagou doesn’t accept his phrasing. “It wasn’t a decision. I simply did not do it. I’m not saying I haven’t been angry at my father, that he hasn’t enraged me. I’m not saying I hadn’t wished that he were gone. I have. But ultimately, I did not do it.”
“What did you do after you went upstairs?”
“I left the restaurant and drove straight to Ren’s—Brenda’s—house.”
“Were you at her house until the police arrived at two p.m. on December twenty-fifth?”
“Yes.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Dagou gives Brenda a shy smile, which she returns. He’s finally done it, what he’s wished to do since his arrest. He’s told his side of the story to everyone. He’s glowing, grinning broadly at them all now: rosy, vulnerable, newly born.