Authors: Michael A Kahn
Face Value (23 page)
Rebecca smiled and nodded toward Stanley. “Just following orders.”
“Which brings us,” I said to the group, “to the two men who were there at the beginning.”
I turned to Jerry and Stanley. Jerry flushed bright red and lowered his eyes. Stanley began stretching his neck this way and that.
“Jerry,” I said, “without you at Stanley's side, none of this would have happened. You helped make justice possible, and we all salute you.”
“Here, here!” several in the group shouted, raising their wineglasses.
“Speech!” Tony shouted. “Come on, Sumo.”
After a moment, Jerry looked up, still bright red. “Thanks, Miss Gold. I'm just proud to be here with all of you. We did a really good thing.”
“And we're proud of you, Jerry,” I said.
I looked around table. “If I may borrow from the Book of Genesis, in the beginning there was the word, and the word here was from Stanleyâand only Stanley.”
I turned to him. “Stanley, you saw what no one else saw, and you decided to act on it.”
Stanley craned his head toward the ceiling.
I said, “Your determination started everything rolling. Back in my car after Sari's memorial service, back when you said those words, when you told me that Sari's death was not a suicide, I didn't believe you. When you showed me your evidenceâthat lip balm and the broken heelâI thought you were crazy.”
Stanley was still staring at the ceiling, slowly tilting his head from side to side.
“You weren't crazy, Stanley, and you weren't wrong. You're the reason we're here tonight.”
I held up my glass. “I propose a toast to Stanleyâto the man who got all this started.”
“Here, here!” the group shouted, all eyes on Stanley.
In the ensuing silence, Stanley slowly lowered his gaze until his eyes met mine. After a moment, he spoke.
“Ms. Bashir accepted me as I am. She was my friend, and she was murdered. That, Ms. Gold, is why I said those words to you after the memorial service. You were the right person to correct an injustice.”
Stanley paused to take a sip of his water. The room was silent.
Leveling his gaze at me again, he said, “I am not possessed of oratorical skills. I turn to one who was so possessed. He, too, was a lawyer. He was also a cleric and poet. His name is John Donne. He happened to die on Mr. Manghini's birthday, albeit 357 years before Mr. Manghini's birth. Near the end of his life, Mr. Donne published a book of meditations entitled
Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions
. The third paragraph of Meditation Seventeen opens with the well-known phrase, âNo man is an island.' In selecting you, I relied upon the final sentence of that paragraph. That sentence captures your essence, Ms. Gold. Jerry shall read that sentence aloud in your honor.”
While Stanley was speaking, Jerry had pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket. He opened it now and cleared his throat
“Any man's death diminishes me,” Jerry read, “because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”
Stanley said, “We thank you, Ms. Gold. You understood for whom the bell tolled.”
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