12 Page #10

but I explained that mom just went

on a long trip, and that

he'd see her again.

My mom looked after him.

I had started driving a cab,

working like a dog.

Didn't really think about my family.

Women are no problem for a cabbie.

One day...

...I started talking to this woman.

Not a beauty

We went out a couple of times,

and she came to live with us.

I didn't need much from her:

Meals, laundry, take the kid to school.

She seemed to like him just fine.

Kolya. Little Nikolai.

For the life of me, I can't remember

how it started.

She began to tell me things

about my boy...

...that he was lazy,

that he misbehaved.

I call him over and ask:

"Is it true?"

He looks at me, smiling,

and says:
"Yes, dad." And hides his eyes.

I punished him.

One day I'd had enough,

I don't remember what she told me

but I just snapped.

I busted into his room

dragged him out of bed,

punched him.

She's quiet.

Then her nose starts bleeding.

She screams.

"Murderer! Murderer! What are you doing?!

You're killing the child!"

And it started.

I'd beat him...

She'd see the blood and scream.

It was brutal.

And my boy, it was as if

he was expecting it.

He stopped crying.

He'd just blink and smile,

blink over and over, but not cry.

He didn't cry.

I punch him.

His face is bloody.

And he keeps blinking and smiling.

Blinking and smiling.

One night I woke up.

I heard water running.

I go to the bathroom,

he's washing his sheet

He had pissed his bed.

That kid...

He sat in the corner

hugging the sheet.

Looking at me and smiling.

Smiling.

Blinking and smiling.

It was like he was always guilty.

That look, and that smile.

He'd look at me...

And I was right in a way,

But in my soul, deep down...

It was like someone made me

my own son's executioner.

Then she had a baby, also a boy.

He was about four.

He acted up in front of me.

I gave him a little smack.

And bam!

God help me...

I barely got away. She threw an iron,

it just missed me.

I could slug my own son,

but I just barely touched hers,

and she nearly killed me.

She and the kid went to

her relatives in Tambov.

I was working nights.

I had already left the building

when I turned around.

It was like someone grabbed me

by the collar.

I saw a light in the window.

I ran to the apartment.

I look all over, can't find him.

It's 3am.

I hear a rustling in the closet.

I open the closet.

And he's sitting there.

Smiling and looking at me.

And blinking.

Blinking, over and over.

I say:
"Son, what are you doing?"

I pull him out of the closet.

I hold him. He holds me tight.

He looks at me, smiling and blinking,

and he's got something behind his back.

I say:
"Son, what's that?"

And I take his hand.

Like that. His hand.

And he's holding a noose.

A noose he made from my belt.

I don't know...

...what he saw on my face.

But he grabbed me, hugged me,

pressed himself tight.

And whispered:

"Papa, don't, papa".

"Papa, don't, don't".

Over and over.

"Don't, papa, don't".

And he's smiling.

Smiling and saying: "Papa, don't".

Well...

...I vote...

...the kid is not guilty.

Write it down.

Yes, you know,

that was very persuasive.

I agree, the boy is not guilty.

- Let's vote.

- OK, fine.

Who thinks he is not guilty,

raise your hand.

- Thank God.

- Finally, thank you.

It's unanimous, he's not guilty.

Wait. Let's write it down.

Wait, please. Wait.

Just wait.

I haven't voted yet.

- Well, I hope you'll join us.

- No.

I think

he's guilty.

Eleven for "not guilty"

and one for "guilty".

- Listen!

- I'll explain, I'll explain.

- These artists...

- Why?

- Come on...

- I don't get it.

We only hurt the ones we love...

I knew from the first minute

that he was innocent.

Professional experience.

I agree with all the explanations

we've come up with here.

The old man was obviously scared.

And the woman...

You forgot that she's nearsighted.

She wears glasses. And she claimed

she was sleeping that night.

She had to put on her glasses

and go to the window.

It's not realistic.

And the boy, well, he's from the Caucasus.

They're very different people.

I worked there a few times,

I know them.

He wouldn't yell "I'll kill you!",

he'd just kill you.

And he wouldn't make up

a stupid story.

The rest is obvious.

It was clearly a set up.

Arranged by people

who really need the kid

to go to prison. Right?

We saw that. We proved that

he's innocent.

Right?

But as soon as

we reach that verdict,

they'll let him go.

Of course they will. And?

- That's great.

- And thank God.

Yes, thank God he's not a murderer.

Then what? Why did you

vote to find him guilty?

I don't understand at all.

I have ceased to understand anything.

We finally... You...

I just don't understand anymore.

After all we've gone through.

Me, for instance

And when... I'm sorry.

When we all...

And you... What is this?

We've accomplished a great thing,

an arduous task.

We've established the truth.

I can say one thing for sure.

He'll live longer in prison,

than he will on the street.

Very interesting.

If he gets out now, he won't go to

a bar or home, or to relatives.

He has nothing, nobody, understand?

He'll look for the killers.

Also, if we acquit him now,

it will automatically trigger

an investigation into the unsolved murder.

The men who killed his father

will be on guard,

and they'll look for the kid.

He'll look for them.

And they'll look for him,

but he doesn't know where they are.

But they know where he is.

So our decision, instead of sending

the kid to prison

will be his death warrant.

And they'll kill him crudely, horribly.

Like a dog, with a sharpened screwdriver...

And nobody will look for him.

You know that.

They'll find him 8 or 10 months later

in a sewer or a garbage dump.

And that's it.

There are people in the courtroom

following every step of the trial.

I can smell it.

Professional instinct.

Understand?

- An artist's instinct

- What?

An artist's.

Yes, an artist's.

What if he hangs himself in prison?

How do we know what'll

happen to him in there?

How will he act?

How can we know?

Well, then, that's his fate...

...if he hangs himself.

But I'll tell you one thing for sure.

He'll live longer

in prison than he will on the street.

OK, then what do you suggest?

Are you proposing we let

an innocent man sit in prison

while the criminals go free?

- Exactly.

- I didn't propose that.

Hide him away in prison:

He has nowhere else to go, anyway.

His home was torn down.

He has nowhere to live.

We'll hire lawyers.

We can get some money together.

We'll go to the prosecutor.

We'll find professionals.

And tell them what we know.

They'll nail the killers to the wall.

Then, when they're locked up,

the kid can be let out.

And then he'll be free and safe.

From them, anyway.

You'll excuse me, but, these lawyers,

these professional people,

that prosecutor...

Who's going to handle all of that?

I'm curious.

Who? What do you mean, who?

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