“Have you seen this before?” Sarge went on, holding up a spiral-bound notebook.
The first volume of the journal, Zoe thought. The courtroom is about to explode.
“I have,” said Jan. “I’ve read every word of it.”
Sarge handed him the journal. “What is it?”
“It’s Charity’s diary from her first year in Lusaka.”
Zoe heard footsteps in the aisle. She turned around and saw Frederick striding toward the bar, his eyes full of loathing. “Your Worship,” he said forcefully, “the document is a forgery. You must inquire how the prosecution obtained it.”
Luchembe stood up. “I request a recess to confer with my client.”
Mubita ignored the defense lawyer and focused on Frederick. “Mr. Nyambo,” he said in an even tone. “I appreciate your concern, but this disruption is inappropriate. Please sit down.”
For a long moment, Frederick locked eyes with the judge. Then he nodded and returned to his seat. Zoe’s heart began to race. Did they just communicate something? She turned around and stared at Frederick. He met her eyes, his face a mask.
“Please proceed,” said the judge.
Sarge directed Jan’s attention to the notebook in his hands. “I’ve marked a passage in the diary. Would you read it out loud?”
Zoe watched as Jan found the prescribed page. His fingers shook as he opened the volume. She closed her eyes and listened to him read the letter that explained so much.
Dear Jan,
A few weeks ago I gave birth to a baby. I named her Kuyeya, which is Tonga for memory. My grandmother said that memory is the only power man has over death. When I was pregnant, I was afraid the baby would be Field’s. Frederick thinks the baby is his. I did not think so because the birth came too soon. Then she was born and I saw her face. Her skin is lighter than mine. I am certain she is your child.
This gives me joy and fear. What will happen if Frederick finds out? I am afraid he will take away my job. I am afraid he will hurt me. I think sometimes I will go back to nursing school. But I cannot return to Livingstone. I would die of disgrace.
Kuyeya has not been well. Frederick’s nganga said there is a hex on her. I don’t believe it. She is beautiful. I wish you could see her. I wish she could know you. I should stop thinking that way. It is foolish, just as I was foolish to think you would marry me. Kuyeya and I are together. We will survive.
Zoe opened her eyes and watched as the revelation settled on Mubita’s shoulders.
“Sarge,” the judge said, “I’d like to ask the doctor a few questions.” He fixed his eyes on Jan. “Who is Field?”
“Charity’s uncle. I believe he had been raping her.”
Mubita shook his head reproachfully. “Do you admit the child is yours?”
Jan shifted in his chair. “I can’t deny it. I’ve seen the proof.”
“You have proof of paternity?” the judge demanded, taken aback.
Jan nodded wearily. “Her DNA is mine.”
At that moment, Sarge stood up, holding a sheaf of papers. “Your Worship, the test was conducted in Johannesburg. I have the report here, together with an affidavit from Officer Kabuta, who transported the blood sample to the lab, and an affidavit from Dr. Chulu certifying the accuracy of the report. The probability that Dr. Kruger is Kuyeya’s father is 99.99 percent.”
“I object!” Luchembe cried, lurching to his feet. “The defense knew nothing of this.”
The judge cleared his throat. “Neither did the Court.” He took the paperwork from Sarge. “Everything appears to be in order. Do you have any further questions for this witness?”
“Two more,” said Sarge. “Dr. Kruger, since Kuyeya is your child, what is her age?”
Jan gave a straightforward answer. “If she was conceived in March or April of 1996, she was born in January or February of 1997. That means she is fifteen years old.”
Sarge nodded, barely suppressing a grin. “Finally, do you know what happened to Charity Mizinga after she wrote the letter you read to the Court?”
Jan looked grave. “I can’t say with certainty. But I know she ended up on the street, working as a prostitute. She died not long ago. From what I understand, she had AIDS.”
“That’s all I have,” Sarge said, returning to his seat.
Luchembe’s cross-examination was brief and formalistic. He forced Jan to concede that he knew nothing of Kuyeya’s defilement and—again—that he had no idea what happened to Charity after she realized the paternity of her daughter. But the damage had been done. Jan had shored up Amos’s recorded testimony and established Kuyeya’s age beyond doubt.
When Luchembe sat down again, Sarge spoke: “Your Worship, the prosecution rests.”
“In that case,” said the judge, “we will take an early recess for lunch and begin again at half past twelve with the defense witnesses.”
Zoe met Jan at the bar and walked with him to the arcade. He looked spent from the ordeal, but he carried himself with dignity.
“Thank you,” she said, offering him a smile.