Defending Jacob(118)

But her confidence must have faltered, because only a few seconds later, as she lay on her side facing me, she whispered, “What if he went to Buenos Aires and killed someone there?”

“Laurie, he’s not going to Buenos Aires and he’s not going to kill anyone. He didn’t kill anyone here.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Don’t say that.”

She looked away.

“Laurie?”

“Andy, what if we’re the ones who are wrong? What if he gets off and then, God forbid, he does it again? Don’t we have some responsibility?”

“Laurie, it’s late, you’re exhausted. We’ll have this conversation some other time. For now, you need to stop thinking that way. You’re making yourself crazy.”

“No.” She gave me an imploring look, like I was the one who was not making sense. “Andy, we need to be honest with each other. This is something we need to think about.”

“Why? The trial isn’t over yet. You’re quitting too soon.”

“We need to think about it because he’s our son. He needs our support.”

“Laurie, we’re doing our job. We’re supporting him, we’re helping him get through the trial.”

“Is that our job?”

“Yes! What else is there?”

“What if he needs something else, Andy?”

“There is nothing else. What are you talking about? There’s nothing more we can do. We’re already doing everything humanly possible.”

“Andy, what if he’s guilty?”

“He won’t be.”

Her breathy whispering became intense, pointed. “I don’t mean the verdict. I mean the truth. What if he really is guilty?”

“He isn’t.”

“Andy, is that what you really think? He didn’t do it? Simple as that? You have no doubt at all?”

I did not answer. I could not bear to.

“Andy, I can’t read you anymore. You need to talk to me, you need to tell me. I’m never sure what’s going on inside you anymore.”

“Nothing’s going on inside me,” I said, and the statement felt even truer than I’d intended.

“Andy, sometimes I just want to grab you by the lapels and make you tell the truth.”

“Oh, the thing with my father again.”

“No, it’s not that. I’m talking about Jacob. I need you to be absolutely honest here, for me. I need to know. Even if you don’t, I need to know: do you think Jacob did it?”

“I think there are things a parent should never think about a child.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Laurie, he’s my son.”

“He’s our son. We’re responsible for him.”

“Exactly. We’re responsible for him. We need to stick with him.” I put my hand on her head, stroked her hair.

She swiped it away. “No! Andy, do you understand what I’m saying to you? If he’s guilty, then we’re guilty too. That’s just the way it is. We’re implicated. We made him—you and me. We created him and we sent him out into the world. And if he really did this—can you handle that? Can you handle that possibility?”

“If I have to.”

“Really, Andy? Could you?”

“Yes. Look, if he’s guilty, if we lose, then we’ll have to face that somehow. I mean, I get that. We’ll still be his parents. You can’t resign from this job.”

“Andy, you are the most infuriating, dishonest man.”

“Why?”

“Because I need you to be here with me right now, and you’re not.”

“I am!”

“No. You’re managing me. You’re talking in platitudes. You’re in there behind those handsome brown eyes and I don’t know what you’re really thinking. I can’t tell.”

I sighed, shook my head. “Sometimes I can’t tell either, Laurie. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m trying not to think at all.”

“Andy, please, you have to think. Look inside yourself. You’re his father. You can’t avoid this. Did he do it? It’s a yes-or-no question.”

She was pushing me toward it, this towering black idea, Jacob the Murderer. I brushed against it, touched the hem of its robe—and I could not go any further. The danger was too great.

I said, “I don’t know.”

“Then you think he might have.”

“I don’t know.”

“But it’s possible, at least.”

“I said I don’t know, Laurie.”

She scrutinized my face, my eyes, searching for something she could trust, for bedrock. I tried to put on a mask of resolve for her, so she would find in my expression whatever it was she needed—reassurance, love, connection, whatever. But the truth? Certainty? I did not have those. They were not mine to give.


A couple of hours later, around one A.M., there was a siren in the distance. This was unusual; in our quiet suburb the cops and fire engines generally do not use them. Flashers only. The siren lasted only five seconds or so, then resonated in the quiet, suspended like a flare. Behind me Laurie was asleep in the same position as before, with her back to me. I went to the window and looked out but there was nothing to see. I would not find out until the next morning what that siren was and how, unknown to us, everything had already changed. We were already in Argentina.