For a long moment, Valerie said nothing. Then she seemed to straighten under the onslaught. She shook her head, toss-ing her long hair back over her shoulders. Holding up a hand for silence, she waited.
The reporters quieted down. Most of them. When it was quiet enough, she spoke.
'I intend to see this case through to victory. And by that I mean I intend to lose. Thank you.' As if on cue, Johnson pressed forward through the crowd. The protesters had been split far asunder by the wedge of re-porters. Patches of blue that were the police orbited around the periphery, powerless and unnecessary. The circle of dem- onstrators surrounding the center of activity carried signs in support of transoption.
James Rosen stood with them, arguing to an unlikely pair.
'Don't you see?' he said to the cadaverously thin woman carrying a small sign that read Abortion Is Murder- Transoption Is Theft. 'It's not theft. It's more like salvage. Res-cue. During the Depression, people found babies on doorsteps and took them in. This just substitutes wombs for rooms.' The man wearing a button reading Not With My Liberty, You Don't tried to get a word in edgewise. With the fervor of all new converts, though, Rosen turned to him and continued without interruption.
'Don't you see that the fetus creates a property sphere by enclosing itself in a sac made from its own genetic material? That it is saying, `This is where your body stops and mine be-gins'? Its actions speak where it has no words....'
None of them noticed the passage of the litigants.
'
Judge Lyang entered the courtroom, viewing everything within her domain. The defendants were all present, she noted. And, as the clerk had informed her, Ron Czernek was absent. In fact, Dalton sat at the defendant's table, calmly finishing a bit of conversation with Dr. Fletcher. In the spectator area, amidst reporters and the curious, sat the expert witness Dr. Brunner. Lyang noted that the other two, Decker and Burke, had not shown up today. It seems that word of Valerie's defec-tion spread quickly over the weekend, she mused. Well, let's get this over with. She eyed Johnson. You're not going to like this. She took a deep breath.
'Court will come to order.' The judge turned toward the jurors. 'In my chambers a few moments ago, the litigants pre-sented this court with a rare opportunity.' Her voice was me-tered and assured. She leaned forward, folding her hands on the bench.
'The purported function of the judicial system is to provide peaceful solutions to profound disagreements between indi-viduals. Right or wrong, we have that power. Well or poorly, we use it. The decisions we make, however pleasing they are supposed to be to both sides, are seldom viewed by the losing side as either fair or pleasant. While this may seem trivial in criminal cases, where one side has engaged in violence against the other, it can be disquieting in civil suits, in disagreements among ordinary people. In custody battles, either-or outcomes can be horribly tragic.' She looked at each member of the jury in turn. 'You have spent several days listening to testimony from both sides per-taining to the question of who is the rightful mother of the baby, Renata. The natural mother has brought suit to reclaim her child, which she claims was taken from her by fraud and deception. The so- called transoptive mother and the doctor involved have built their defense on the fact that the natural mother had contractually surrendered claim to a fetus that is not legally considered to possess human rights. In so doing, they have raised a fascinating collection of legal and moral questions unsettling to our concepts of abortion, definitions of humanity, contracts, abandonment, Good Samaritanism, and even rights of salvage.
'It would seem that your task as jurors will be more difficult than that of a Solomon. Not only must you decide whose claim to Renata is valid, but-in order to make that decision-you must redefine human rights in regard to adults and the un-born. It is a task I would not wish to place upon myself.' She turned to gaze at the litigants. 'I have, however, been asked by both the plaintiff and the counsel for the defense to grant a directed verdict. However-' She paused, gazing first at Dalton, then at Johnson, the Chandlers, and Dr. Fletcher. 'However, a directed verdict has always seemed to me to carry a stigma of arbitrary unfairness. It is a judge's assertion that she doubts the ability of a jury to reach a verdict that serves the interests of justice. Therefore, in the interest of justice, and because I think there are issues to try, I will allow this trial to follow its natural course.' Johnson's jaw dropped. He stared as if he had been pole-axed.
Valerie turned in confusion to Fletcher, her composure evaporating. 'What?' Fletcher shook her head, smiling. 'Well, Terry,' she whis-pered, 'here's your chance.' He stood, clearing his throat and glancing sourly at Lyang. She smiled warmly back at him.
'Ladies and gentlemen of the, uh, jury, the defense would like to call a final witness-Valerie Dalton.' Valerie looked from Johnson to Fletcher and back again. 'Me?' Johnson nodded.
'You can do it,' David said quietly.
Karen nodded in agreement. 'Just tell them what you told us in the van.' Hesitantly, Valerie arose to approach the stand. Noting that she had been sworn in previously, Judge Lyang merely re-minded her that she was still under obligation to answer truth-fully. Valerie moved as if in a dream.
'Ms. Dalton.' Terry's voice snapped her back into reality. 'You brought suit against Dr. Evelyn Fletcher, Karen Chan-dler, and David Chandler for custody of Baby Renata. Can you explain to the jury why you are here as a witness for the very people you are suing?' With a quick glance at Judge Lyang, Valerie turned toward the jury. Her stomach quavered. She took a deep breath. I'm sorry, Ron. This is the right thing to do.
'Judge Lyang spoke about the interests of justice. This law-suit was never in the interest of justice. I'd forgotten what jus-tice was.'
