The Resurrection File (44 page)

“What happened, counsel? Did you get mugged on the way over here?”

“In a manner of speaking, Your Honor.”

“Right here, near the courthouse?”

“No, Your Honor. It's rather complicated. The FBI is looking into it.”

And with that, Will glanced over at Dr. Reichstad, who looked away.

Judge Kaye, who had been a Deputy Director of the CIA twenty years ago, before his appointment to the federal bench, had heard enough to have his curiosity aroused.

“Well, I hope the Bureau gets to the bottom of this for you, whatever happened,” the judge commented.

Then, collecting his thoughts, the judge resumed his statement to counsel.

“What I was saying before you stepped in, Mr. Chambers, was that the religious overtones make this an interesting case—but they are somewhat beside the point, considering the narrow legal issues I'll be deciding today. Nevertheless, for what it's worth, I will point out that my father was a rabbi. I know nothing in my background that would require me to recuse myself from hearing this case; I believe I can judge it fairly and dispassionately. But if either counsel wants to address my having been trained in the Torah as a young man, and my background in Judaism, I will not hold it against you. Either of you want me to remove myself from hearing this case?”

J-Fox Sherman was beaming. He shook his head “no.”

“I have no concerns in that regard, Your Honor,” Will seconded.

With that, Judge Kaye leaned back in his chair as Sherman walked to the lectern located directly in front of the bench and then began launching into his argument outlining why judgment should be entered against Angus MacCameron for having recklessly defamed and libeled Dr. Albert Reichstad.

Sherman's argument was methodical and brilliant. He laid out the facts in excruciating detail. He read out loud, with appropriate sarcasm, the portions of MacCameron's article that were the subject of the lawsuit.

“Your Honor,” Sherman argued, “upon what basis could any
reasonable
man ever write, as the defendant MacCameron did in fact write, that my client, a world-famous scholar in biblical antiquities, was ‘either lying, or he has committed scientific malpractice' regarding his writings about 7QA? Even further—and even worse—what reasonable, lucid, or
sane
person would ever dare to write that my esteemed client had anything whatsoever to do with the death of that antiquities dealer, or Dr. Richard Hunter? MacCameron's lawyer has failed, in his response to our motion, to show this court any credible evidence demonstrating why the defendant was
not reckless
in making those outrageous allegations against Dr. Reichstad. He points to no investigation undertaken by MacCameron to verify the accuracy of what he was about to publish to the world. That's because MacCameron did
no factual investigation
when he wrote this inflammatory pack of lies against Dr. Reichstad. His only basis for what he wrote was apparently a hearsay
conversation with Dr. Hunter—mysteriously and conveniently incapable of being verified because Dr. Hunter is now dead.”

Judge Kaye interrupted him.

“What about the tape-recorded message from Hunter—isn't that some kind of basis for MacCameron to have reached the conclusions he did in his article?”

“Clearly not, Your Honor,” Sherman quickly responded. “The message on the answering machine was Hunter's obscure reference to his obvious paranoid delusions that he was being followed; but he doesn't say by whom. Further, there is no proof that the fragments he refers to in his message had any identity with the 7QA fragment.”

“So,” Judge Kaye interjected, “you do agree with Mr. Chambers, who has argued in his brief that when the message was analyzed the reference was to ‘fragments'—more than one?”

Sherman glanced over at Reichstad, who was staring ahead blankly.

“Yes, Your Honor, our experts listened to the tape—as did Mr. Chambers'—and, for what it's worth, we agree that it was probably a reference to ‘fragments.' But that point is irrelevant in any event. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that connects Hunter's ‘fragments'—even assuming they actually existed—to the 7QA fragment obtained by Dr. Reichstad.”

“Do you agree,” Judge Kaye asked, “that I must rule on the
recklessness
issue separately from the issue of whether, in hindsight, MacCameron's allegations actually ended up to be the
truth?
Aren't those two distinct and separate questions?”

“They are distinct—but related,” Sherman answered. “We believe that MacCameron has produced no evidence thus far in this case that creates an issue of fact as to whether his outrageous and defamatory allegations are actually true. This court must rule in our favor. This court must find, as a matter of law, that Reverend MacCameron, undoubtedly fueled by his fanatical religious beliefs, viciously, recklessly, and falsely defamed and libeled my client. No jury trial is required on those issues. The only thing for a jury to decide, after this court awards judgment for Dr. Reichstad today, is what figure they want to put next to the dollar sign on the verdict form—where it says, ‘What sum of money do you find will reasonably compensate Dr. Reichstad for the false and defamatory statements published by Angus MacCameron?'”

Sherman concluded by adding, with a confident smile, “And I would suggest, Your Honor, that the court have some calculators on hand for the jury's use—the kind that have room for lots of zeroes.”

Will walked up to the podium with no notes. He smiled and thanked the judge for his attentive and astute questions during Sherman's argument. He first argued why the judge should
not
rule on whether MacCameron was reckless in making his accusations against Reichstad. Will recited from memory the legal cases Jacki had researched for him—court cases that stressed that a trial judge ought to refrain, whenever possible, from trying to make decisions in place of the jury, where such decisions hinge on the state of mind of a party to a lawsuit. Those kind of issues, Will submitted, “are usually appropriate to be made by
the jury
after hearing all the facts, and all of the evidence—after a full jury trial—not here, in a hearing before trial.”

But Judge Kaye appeared impatient with that argument, interrupting Will and asking, “Then why do the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure specifically give me the power to grant judgment for Mr. Sherman's client here? Can you show me one, credible, concrete fact that indicates a reasonable basis for MacCameron's obviously defamatory article? I admit, most state-of-mind issues, like the recklessness issue here, are best left for the jury to decide at trial. But sometimes, Mr. Chambers, someone writes something that is so outrageous and so damaging, with no basis whatsoever in fact, that the court has no alternative but to find at this stage of the case, as a matter of law, that the element of recklessness has been proven beyond any doubt by the plaintiff.”

Will attempted to continue, but was interrupted again by the judge.

“Really, counsel, what was the basis for those allegations against Dr. Reichstad that your client published, anyway? Aside from the conversation he had with Hunter at the Between the Arches Café—and, as a side note, I've eaten at that restaurant on some of my visits to Jerusalem. But anyway, aside from that conversation—and that strange answering-machine message—on what did MacCameron base his published accusations against Reichstad? A dream? A vision? Was he motivated by an upset stomach caused by an undigested bit of beef, to bring in something from Dickens'
Christmas Carol?
Really, Mr. Chambers, what other evidence of any kind did he have before he let loose with that diatribe against this world-famous scholar?”

“The truth, Your Honor. Reverend MacCameron saw the truth—and then published what he saw,” Will Chambers replied.

“Does he have special eyes? Can he see things differently than the rest of us? Does he have X-ray vision? Is your client Superman?”

“No,” Will responded, smiling. “But he does see things differently. He views the world through a glass—as we all do. For most of us that glass is dark and the light is imperfectly reflected. But Reverend MacCameron
views the world through a particular glass—through the prism of the Bible. He believes that Dr. Reichstad's conclusions about 7QA are false—but not just false. Diabolically false.

“Mr. Sherman ridicules Reverend MacCameron's beliefs. But I do not. I do not presume to possess the knowledge—or the arrogance—that would cause me to ridicule a magnificent written record that is two thousand years old. A written record, as it were, printed with the blood of those who all died horrible deaths for a specific belief—a belief that what they saw following the death and burial of Jesus of Nazareth defied the laws of the natural world, and changed their lives forever.

“We have not yet had the chance, as the court knows, to examine 7QA in its original form. But I believe that if we are permitted to do so, we will find that 7QA is only one part of a larger fragment. Where are the other parts of that fragment? And what will they say when the jigsaw puzzle is put together? What message will they bring to us out of the dust and the desert sands of two thousand years of oblivion? If Your Honor permits us to go to trial on the issue of
truth
as a defense, then those are the very questions we will address—and that the jury will, in its collective wisdom—be able to answer.”

Judge Kaye rocked back and forth in his black judge's chair.

“And exactly what is the truth here, Mr. Chambers?”

Will paused, and in a quiet voice he answered.

“Interestingly, that is the same question that Pontius Pilate put to Jesus in the Praetorium in Jerusalem, Your Honor. He asked that very same question of Jesus, within the great arches of that Roman hallway. But then, Pilate turned and left prematurely—oblivious, perhaps, to the answer. I am sure that this court will be much more judicious than that. I am confident that Your Honor will permit us to go to trial—at least on the issue of truth. For all his indiscretion, Pilate did let the people decide. That's all we ask here—a trial. And then, let the people in the jury decide.”

Judge Kaye was expressionless. His rocking in the chair ceased.

“Let's adjourn for fifteen minutes. I want to review my notes. Then I will come back into court and give you my decision.”

“All rise!” the court bailiff shouted.

Everyone in the courtroom rose to their feet as Judge Kaye took the reading glasses off the top of his head and walked down from the bench, then disappeared through the door to his private chambers. The strained silence through the courtroom was palpable as the door behind the judge slowly closed shut.

55

T
HE GEARS IN
W
ILL
'
S MIND WERE STILL WHIRLING
at high speed as he walked back to his counsel's table. He felt someone touch his shoulder. It was his client.

“Will, my boy,” Angus MacCameron said with a furrowed brow, “are you alright? Who accosted you?”

“Accosted? You know, Angus, that word doesn't begin to describe my last forty-eight hours. But, miraculously, I am fine. Thanks for asking,” Will responded.

MacCameron had a large manila envelope in his hand. His face suddenly broke into a beaming smile as he waved the envelope in front of Will.

“You will never guess what I have here!” MacCameron exclaimed. “Praise God, this is the beginning of the end for Reichstad's lies.”

“What is it?”

MacCameron put the envelope in front of Will, who noticed the airmail markings on it. Then he noticed the sender's name: Judith Hunter—and a London address.

“Dr. Hunter's sister?”

“Precisely. God's timing is brilliant, don't you think?”

“Yes, but what is this about? Is it something we don't want Sherman to get wind of? Perhaps we should step outside the courtroom.”

MacCameron agreed, and he and Will made their way out to the lobby and over to a corner where there was a bench.

“Okay, go ahead,” said Will.

“Judith sent a short note. Saying that she thinks often about my friendship with her late brother. How hard his murder has been on her, the poor dear. And then, at the very end of the note, she hits the jackpot!”

“Jackpot?”

“She writes that, since his death, she had not done much with the flat where she and Richard had lived. But recently she decided to move into a smaller flat, because she's now living alone. She hired some men to come in and move her furniture. As they are moving the living room sofa, they see an envelope on the floor where Richard must have put it. It was addressed to me in the United States. He obviously intended to mail it to me, but was murdered first.

“So Judith simply took the envelope, put it in another envelope, and mailed the whole thing to me. I received it in the mail on Saturday. I was so ecstatic that I immediately called your office, but you weren't there. I tried to contact you at your apartment, but you weren't there either.”

“I was tied up over the weekend,” Will said with a wry smile. “So, what was in the envelope Hunter had addressed to you?”