Tuesday The Rabbi Saw Red

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"The Boston police asked us to pick up the Selzer boy, so we picked him up." said Chief Lanigan, he was sitting at his dining room table with the Sunday paper spread out before him."

Do they have any real evidence against them?" asked the rabbi.

Lanigan shrugged. "You know how these things are. It's the D.A, who looks over what they've got and who issues the orders, he certainly wouldn't tell me. Even the D.A, of our own county wouldn't necessarily take me into his confidence on a matter that occurred right here in my own bailiwick. But from what Schroeder said, what they have on him is obvious, he was one of a committee that met with the dean, they talk for a while and then one of them gets vituperative and the dean walks out, they wait around for her to come back, and when she doesn't, they leave, a few minutes later a bomb goes off in her office. Now I put it to you, that's certainly grounds for suspicion, add a couple of other little items: one, there was a bombing in the school during the spring semester; two, a member of the committee, somebody called Ekko— I don't know if that's his real name or just a nickname— skips, that suggests guilt certainly."

"On the other hand." the rabbi observed, "none of it is what you would call real evidence, the building is open and anyone can walk in. Dean Hanbury left her office unlocked, so anyone could get in after the committee left. From what little I myself know about conditions in the school, there are other student groups, more or less revolutionary, who are seemingly as opposed to each other as they are to the administration."

"Well, you don't have to convince me. Rabbi. It's the people in Suffolk County you've got to convince."

"Is it all right if I see the boy now?"

"Sure. Let me get my shoes on and I'll run you down to the station. You can talk to him in my office if you'd like."

The young man was visibly surprised when he saw the rabbi. "Oh, it's you,” he said. "I thought it was the lawyer guy again." He walked the length of the room and looked out the window, then he faced around. "Cops!" he exclaimed. "They're not human. Do you think he'd bother to tell me who's here? He just says somebody wants to see me in the chiefs office, and when I tell him I don't care to go— thinking it was the lawyer or my old man— he says, 'On your feet, bigshot,’ and practically hauls me up here."

"He probably didn't know who it was either," the rabbi said mildly.

"Rabbi, you don't know these guys. You just haven't had the experience."

"All right," he said good-naturedly. "Now what's your objection to cooperating with the lawyer?"

Abner Selzer spread his hands and let his shoulders droop in exasperation. "Goodman! He didn't ask me a thing, he just said if I was planning on making a speech, forget it. I'd be standing before Judge Visconte and he's hard as nails, he'd throw the book at me. If the judge asks a question, he says. I'm supposed to stand up and address him as Your Honor. Otherwise, keep quiet, don't whisper with the others. Just sit up straight, look straight ahead at the judge, and look interested, that's planning a defense? Then he takes a look at me and tells me he wants me clean- shaven and wearing a regular suit when I come to court tomorrow morning. Rabbi, how can I communicate with a man like that? So I asked him how would it be if I wore a kilt and crossed my legs and showed part of my behind to the jury."

The rabbi laughed and the young man grinned. "What did he say to that?"

"He got sore and just said he'd see me in the court in Boston."

"I don't suppose it makes much difference." said the rabbi. "The arraignment is largely a formality, as I understand it, the law requires you to be brought before a magistrate within twenty-four hours of your arrest."

"But what if a guy's innocent?"

"That's not the judge's concern at an arraignment, Abner, he's there just to determine whether the police have enough evidence to hold you for the grand jury. If they want you held, the judge will usually go along, all right, I can understand about your lawyer, but why don't you want to see your father?"

"So he can yell at me? We can't talk for five minutes before he starts yelling."

"What does he yell about?" asked the rabbi curiously.

"Oh, almost anything, but mostly— until now, at least— about marks. 'Shape up.' he's always saying. Why don't I shape up, or sometimes. 'Shape up or ship out.' He was in the naval reserve for a while, that's where he got it. When I was in high school here, it wasn't so bad. I was one of the smart kids, and besides the other kids' fathers did the same thing. But at Harvard. I was up against all the other smart kids, and I wasn't living at home where he could keep tabs on me every night— C or even B-minus wasn't good enough for him. It had to be A's, and for a while. I tried, but the competition was tough and I thought, the hell with it."

"So you slacked off completely."

"Sure, why not? I was working so hard and got a B-minus, but it wasn't good enough for him. So I thought it won't be any worse if I have a little fun and get a C or even a C-minus."

"But you felt guilty about it."

The young man considered. "All right. I suppose I did— at first. I don't now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll tell you something. Rabbi. My father didn't care if I learned anything or not, he was just interested in my getting good marks so I could get into a good law school and get good marks there, even if I never learned any law, so I could get into a big law firm."

"I suppose he's trying to fit you for the world as he sees it."

"So what's wrong with trying to change it?" demanded Selzer."Well, you might change it for the worse." the rabbi observed wryly. "But in any case, by your own admission, whatever your father is doing, whether he's going about it the right way or not, he's doing it for you."

"Rabbi." said Abner solemnly, "this is going to shock you, but the fact is I don't care very much for my father. I don't respect him and—"But it was Abner who was shocked when the rabbi interrupted to say, "Oh, that's perfectly normal."

"It is?"

"I would say so, that's why it's one of the ten commandments. 'Honor thy father and mother.’ If it were perfectly natural, it wouldn't require a specific commandment, would it?"

"All right, so why should I accept help from somebody I don't respect?"

"Because it's childish and peevish to refuse help when you are in need." said the rabbi. "You're going to have a lawyer whether you want one or not. If you don't use your own, the court will appoint one for you, he may be better than Mr. Goodman, but it's not likely, and he's certain to be less experienced. Common sense would suggest that you get the best you can."