Maggie glanced at me over her shoulder and offered a tight smile, and the entire courtroom got to its feet while Judge Haig entered.
It was so quiet that I could hear the tiny electronic gasps of the video equipment as the judge began to speak. 'This is a unique case in
New Hampshire's history,' Haig said, 'and possibly a unique case in the federal court system. The Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons
Act certainly protects the religious freedoms of a person confined to an institution such as Mr. Bourne, but that doesn't mean that such a person can simply claim that any of his beliefs constitutes a true religion.
For example, imagine what would happen if a death row inmate announced that by the tenets of his religion, he had to die of old age.
Therefore, when balancing the religious rights of inmates against the compelling governmental interest of the state, this court is mindful of more than just the monetary cost, or even the security cost to other inmates.'
The judge folded his hands. 'That being said... we are not in the habit in this country of allowing the government to define what a church is, or vice versa. And that puts us at a standstill-unless we can develop a litmus test for what religion really is. So how do we go about doing that? Well, all we have to work with is history. Dr. Fletcher posed similarities between Gnosticism and Mr. Bourne's beliefs. However,
Gnosticism is not a flourishing religion in today's world climate-it's not even an existing religion in today's world climate. Although I don't presume to be the expert on the history of Christianity that Dr. Fletcher is, it seems to me a stretch to connect the belief system of an individual inmate in a New Hampshire state prison to a religious sect that's been dead for nearly two thousand years.'
Maggie's hand slipped back through the slatted rails that separated the first row of the gallery from the plaintiff's table. I snatched the folded note she held between her fingers. WE'RE SCREWED, she had written.
'Then again,' the judge continued, 'some of Mr. Bourne's observations about spirituality and divinity seem awfully familiar. Mr. Bourne believes in one God. Mr. Bourne thinks salvation is linked to religious practice. Mr. Boume feels that part of the contract between man and
God involves personal sacrifice. All of these are very familiar concepts to the average American who is practicing a mainstream religion.'
He cleared his throat. 'One of the reasons religion doesn't belong in a courtroom is because it's a deeply personal pursuit. Yet, ironically, something Mr. Bourne said struck a chord with this court.' Judge Haig turned to Shay. 'I am not a religious man. I have not attended a service for many years. But I do believe in God. My own practice of religion, you could say, is a nonpractice. I personally feel that it's just as worthy on a weekend to rake the lawn of an elderly neighbor or to climb a mountain and marvel at the beauty of this land we live in as it is to sing hosannas or go to Mass. In other words, I think every man finds his own church-and not all of them have four walls. But just because this is how I choose to fashion my faith doesn't mean that I'm ignorant about formal religion. In fact, some of the things I learned as a young man studying for his bar mitzvah resonate with me even now.'
My jaw dropped. Judge Haig was Jewish?
'There's a principle in Jewish mysticism called tikkun olam,' he said. 'It means, literally, world repair. The idea is that God created the world by containing divine light in vessels, some of which shattered and got scattered all over. It's the job of humanity to help God by finding and releasing those shards of light-through good deeds and acts.
Every time we do, God becomes more perfect-and we become a little more like God.
'From what I understand, Jesus promised his believers entry into the Kingdom of Heaven-and urged them to prepare through love and charity. The bodhisattva in Buddhism promises to wait for liberation until all who suffer have been freed. And apparently, even those longgone
Gnostics thought that a spark of divinity was inside all of us. It seems to me that no matter what religion you subscribe to, acts of kindness are the stepping-stones to making the world a better place- because we become better people in it. And that sounds, to me, a bit like why Mr. Bourne wants to donate his heart.'
Did it really matter whether you believed that Jesus spoke the words in the Bible or the words in the Gospel of Thomas? Did it matter whether you found God in a consecrated church or a penitentiary or even in yourself? Maybe not. Maybe it only mattered that you not judge someone else who chose a different path to find meaning in his life.
'I find under the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons
Act of 2000 that Shay Bourne has a valid and compelling religious belief that he must donate his organs at the time of his death,' Judge
Haig pronounced. 'I further find that the State of New Hampshire's plan to execute Mr. Bourne by lethal injection imposes a substantial burden on the ability to exercise his religious practices, and that they therefore must comply with an alternate means of execution, such as hanging, that will allow organ donation to be medically feasible. Court's adjourned, and I want to see counsel in my chambers.'
The gallery exploded in a riot of noise, as reporters tried to get to the attorneys before they left to meet with the judge. There were women sobbing and students punching their fists in the air, and in the back of the room, someone had begun to sing a psalm. Maggie reached over the bar to embrace me, and then quickly hugged Shay. 'I gotta run,' she said, and Shay and I were left staring at each other.
'Good,' he said. 'This is good.'
I nodded and reached out to him. I had never embraced Shay before, and it was a shock to me-how strong his heart beat against my own chest, how warm his skin was. 'You have to call her,' he said.
'You have to tell the girl.'
How was I supposed to explain that Claire Nealon didn't want his heart?
'I will,' I lied, the words staining his cheek like Judas's kiss.
Maggie
Wait until I told my mother that Judge Haig was not Catholic, like Alexander, but Jewish. No doubt it would inspire her to give me the speech again about how, with time and perseverance, I could be a judge, too. I had to admit, I liked his ruling-and not just because it had come out in favor of my client. His words had been thoughtful, unbiased, not at all what I expected.
'All right,' Judge Haig said, 'now that the cameras aren't on us, let's just cut the crap. We all know that this trial wasn't about religion, although you found a lovely legal coatrack to hang your complaint on, Ms.
Bloom.'
My mouth opened and closed, sputtering. So much for thoughtful and unbiased; Judge Haig's spirituality, apparently, was the kind that made itself present only when the right people were there to see it.
'Your Honor, I firmly believe in my client's religious freedoms-'
'I'm sure you do,' the judge interrupted. 'But get off your high horse so we can settle this business.' He turned to Gordon Greenleaf. 'Is the state really going to appeal this for a hundred and twenty dollars?'
'Probably not, Judge, but I'd have to check.'
'Then go make a phone call,' Judge Haig said, 'because there's a family out there who deserves to know what's going to happen, and when. Are we clear on that?'
'Yes, Judge,' we both parroted.
I left Gordon in the hallway, hunched over his cell phone, and headed downstairs to the holding cell where Shay was most likely still incarcerated. With each step, I moved a little more slowly. What did you say to the man whose imminent death you'd just set in motion?
He was lying on the metal bench in the cell, facing the wall. 'Shay,' I said, 'you okay?'
He rolled toward me and grinned. 'You did it.'
I swallowed. 'Yeah. I guess I did.' If I had gotten my client the verdict he wanted, why did I feel like I was going to be sick?
'Did you tell her yet?'
He was talking about June Nealon, or Claire Nealon-which meant that Father Michael had not had the guts to tell Shay the truth either, yet.
I pulled up a chair and sat down outside the cell. 'I spoke to June this morning,' I said. 'She said Claire's not going to be using your heart.'
'But the doctor told me I was a match.'
