It’s midmorning, and the courtroom has grown bright and warm, before Judge Lopate is ready with her decision on the request for a mistrial. The sun, pouring through high windows, glints off the buttons worn by the waiting spectators. Everyone watches as Judge Lopate takes a sip of water. Then she announces that the jury had been dismissed and essentially sequestered by the time Ming told his story. The witness had also been dismissed. There’s no mistrial.
In the first few rows, the community listens with their faces closed, protected. Outsiders might describe them as emotionless and inscrutable. In reality, almost everyone is praying now. By an accident of timing, most of the Christians sit on one side of the aisle today, and almost all of the Buddhists sit on the other side. Katherine is on the Buddhist side. Lynn suspects she chose deliberately, knowing that the temple women wouldn’t hold yesterday’s words and actions against her. Maybe Dagou will be found innocent; maybe he’ll forgive her for betraying him in order to protect Ming. Omi sits on the Christian side. Watching her lips move, Lynn suspects she has switched to Christianity because she believes Dagou is guilty. Christianity provides a concrete action plan for sins, even mortal ones. Christianity acknowledges wickedness but maintains Dagou might still be saved.
Strycker stands to deliver his closing statement. He says the law that a son must respect the father is universal. He quotes the Bible: “‘Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land that the Lord your God is giving to you.’” He quotes Confucius: “‘The virtue of filial piety is essential to the establishment and continuance of human society.’ Therefore,” he continues, “William ‘Dagou’ Chao has broken the rules not only of the American culture in which he was raised, but of the culture of his ancestors!”
Strycker stares at the jury. “Does William ‘Dagou’ Chao have the right to walk free as a member of our society? Does a man who has used every method within his means, legal and illegal, to pour his hatred for this man into the ears of family, friends, and strangers; does William ‘Dagou’ Chao, who has literally broadcast his desire to murder in the exact way this murder was performed, who has admitted that he had murderous intent, have a right to remain free after that murder?
“William ‘Dagou’ Chao has committed a murder under the laws of our country. He must be punished for it.”
As Strycker’s high voice penetrates the room, Dagou sits motionless. There is a long hush. Jerry Stern gets slowly to his feet.
Clearly, deliberately, Jerry makes a plea for rationality. “Appearances,” he says, “are not the same as truth; rumors are not the same as truth; threats are not the same as murder; an unexplained death is not the same as a murder; and a statement made in the subjunctive, under pressure of police, is not a confession.”
Jerry reminds the jury members about their job. That it’s the jury’s task to judge whether Dagou is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. That the case for Dagou’s guilt is entirely unclear. It’s only known that Big Chao died of hypothermia. Without evidence that anyone took the key on purpose, it’s reasonable to assume this death was a tragic accident. “And while William wears his heart on his sleeve,” Jerry says, “while he may have vocalized thoughts that seem to supply the motivation to commit an unspeakable act, there are others who may have had similar motivation to harm Leo Chao. And there is even reasonable doubt as to whether anyone may have intentionally taken the key and shut the door.”
He straightens now. His voice deepens and carries to the back of the room.
“Mr. and Mrs. Chao brought their lives to America so their family could have certain rights and freedoms. And after all of their hard work, Mr. and Mrs. Chao would want their sons to keep the privileges they have struggled for, the rights they have earned.
“Think long and hard about taking those rights from William Chao,” Jerry says. “Would you vote to imprison a man on circumstantial evidence? Would you vote to take away the liberties his parents sacrificed themselves to give to him? Please do not destroy a human life.”
Jerry’s plea is followed by stillness. Then Judge Lopate straightens her reading glasses and begins the complicated, methodical job of instructing the jury. Dagou’s fate is now up to them.
Lynn scribbles in her notes: The evidence is circumstantial. The jury gets to decide. If they believe Dagou, they’ll vote to exonerate him. If they don’t believe him, they’ll vote to convict. Will the jury believe a flawed but heartfelt Asian man? We shall see.
The Moment of Return
That night, James and Alice get into his childhood bed. “Please,” he says to Alice, “I don’t think I can live with this unless I tell you and Dagou. I know, we’re supposed to tell the truth in court. I didn’t lie even to save Dagou, and I revealed my relationship with you to the police. But please, if you are capable, forget I ever told you this. I disobeyed Ming and let O-Lan go. I let Dagou take the punishment for her, for me, and all of us. We’re all guilty. We let this happen under our watch. We let him mistreat her and we let one of us do something unconscionable. All four of us are guilty now.”
“I’ll forget all about it,” Alice says. He knows she won’t forget, but she won’t tell.
They lie with their heads on the same pillow, looking into each others’ eyes. “I let her go,” James says. “I let her go even though she killed my father.” The old man in the train station. Leo and Winnie. “I don’t know how I’ll get over this.”
“I don’t think you will.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think we can get over what we do.”
James reaches for her.
“I can’t,” Alice says. She draws her knees up, protectively, between them. Her chilly, pointed toes press against his stomach.
“Don’t you love me?”
She doesn’t answer for a moment. Then, “I do. I do love you.”
“Then tell me why not.”
“Because,” she says, knowing he needs it spelled out, “I can’t do it now that I’ve testified, now that we all know he was trapped that night, dying in the restaurant, just downstairs. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen. We can’t pretend we don’t know, and that we didn’t do anything about it.”
“It’s not your fault,” James says. “You thought it was a ghost.”
“I told you to go back to sleep. And now, after my testimony, you know what I did.”