Pandemonium broke out. The presiding judge rose and pounded the table frantically. “Order! Order in the court!” he bellowed. When the uproar died down, he announced, “Defendant Zheng Changnian, you may not speak without the express permission of the court!”
“I’d like to continue,” the young military officer said.
“You have another five minutes.”
“I’ll take as long as I need,” the young officer insisted. “The Criminal Code places no time limits on defense arguments. Nor does it give a panel of judges the authority to set them!”
“In the opinion of this court, your comments have strayed beyond the scope of this case!” the presiding judge replied.
“My comments are becoming increasingly relevant to the defense of my father.”
“Let him speak!” a spectator shouted. “Let him speak!” Gao Yang saw the young officer wipe his eyes with a white handkerchief.
“All right, go ahead and speak,” the judge relented. “But the clerk is recording everything you say, for which you are solely responsible.”
“Of course I accept responsibility for anything I say,” he replied with a slight stammer. “In my view, the Paradise County garlic incident has sounded an alarm: any political party or government that disregards the well- being of its people is just asking to be overthrown by them!”
A hush fell over the courtroom; the air seemed to vibrate with electricity. The pressure on Gao Yang’s eardrums was nearly unbearable. The presiding judge, face bathed in sweat, literally shook. In reaching for his tea, he knocked it over, soaking the white tablecloth with the rust-colored liquid, some of which dripped to the floor.
“What… what do you think you’re doing?” the aghast judge shouted. “Clerk, make sure you take down every word!”
Dont say any more, young fellow, Gao Yang prayed silently. A light flashed in his head. Now he remembered: this was the young officer who was helping his father irrigate his corn that night Fourth Uncle was killed.
“What I want to say is this,” the young officer continued. “The people have the right to overthrow any party or government that disregards their well-being. If an official assumes the role of public master rather than public servant, the people have the right to throw him out! In my view this conforms in all respects to the Four Cardinal Principles of Socialism. Of course, I’m talking about possibilities-
“I further believe that the actions of the Paradise County administrator, Zhong Weimin, can be seen as dereliction of duty. As events unfolded, he refused to show his face, choosing instead to make the compound walls higher and top them with broken glass to ensure his own personal safety. When trouble came, he refused to meet with the masses, despite the entreaties of his own civil servants. That made the ensuing chaos inevitable. If we endorse the proposition that all people are equal under the law, then we must demand that the Paradise County People’s Procuratorate indict Paradise County administrator Zhong Weimin on charges of official misconduct! I have nothing more to say.”
The young officer remained standing for a moment before wearily taking a seat behind the defense table. Thunderous applause erupted from the spectator section behind him.
The presiding judge rose to his feet and patiently waited for the applause to die down. “Do the other defendants have anything to say in their defense? No? Then this court stands in recess while the panel of judges deliberates the case, based upon the evidence, arguments, and provisions of the law. We will return in thirty minutes to announce our verdict.”
CHAPTER 20
– from a ballad sung by Zhang Kou on a side street west of the government office building
1.
After finishing the verse he felt the ground beside him for his canteen. A gulp of cool water moistened his parched, raspy throat. All around him he heard applause and an occasional roar from one of the young voices: “Bravo, Zhang Kou! More, more, more!” Hearing their voices, he could nearly see their dusty bodies and blazing eyes. By then it was late autumn, and the tumult surrounding the Paradise garlic incident had subsided. A couple of dozen peasants, including Gao Ma, who was seen as the ringleader, had been sentenced to labor-reform camps; County Head Zhong “Serve the People” Weimin, and the county party secretary, Ji Nancheng, had been reassigned elsewhere. Their replacements, after delivering a series of reports to local dignitaries, organized a compulsory program for county workers to rake up the garlic rotting on city streets and haul it over to White Water Stream, which flowed through town. Baked by the midsummer sun, the garlic emitted a stench that lay like a pall over town until a couple of summery rainstorms eased the torment. At first the incident was all the people talked about; but farm duties and a creeping awareness that the topic was growing stale had the same effect on their conversations that the rain had on the smell of garlic. Zhang Kou, whose blindness had gained him leniency at court, proved to be the exception. Ensconced on a side street alongside the government office building, he tirelessly strummed his
At this point in his song something hot stung his blind eyes, as if tears had materialized from somewhere, and he remembered all he had suffered in the county lockup.
The policeman held the hot electric prod up to his mouth until he could hear it crackle. “Shut your trap, you
