Chapter 29

Linda says to me a terrible tale.

In this place where I am come, in this time, dreadful things happen. I think again to how the slow in mind, the crippled who do not think well, may live in this time and may mate with one another and make children.

It seems that in this place there are some who do not partake of the knowing that mating with a woman who does not wish to mate is an evil thing. There are some, even, who will force mating on children!

At a time when I do not understand, I would mate with Linda even when she does not wish this. Her talk brings that again to my mind, and I again feel shame.

Then she tells me that one has done this with a child, a young girl with no knowing of such things and, worse yet, has then killed the child. It is hard for me to believe that such evil may exist.

She says that she is called to speak for this man, and that he tells that he did not do this and that she believes him and speaks for him strongly. And she says that her speech is so good that others believe her and he may go free without punishment.

And then she says that, after this is done, the man tells her that he did do the evil but will nevertheless walk free because he may not be again accused of the same deed. She says that because of this she leaves the work that she does and does not wish to do this work again.

I ask where is this man; it is my thought that I will find him and do to him such that he cannot make such an evil again. But she says this is not needed, that the man is now dead and will never again repeat what he has done.

It is not right to wish death on any other, but I cannot sorrow that death has come to this one.

Linda’s eyes are wet at the end of her tale, and I see that she is very troubled. There are times when one speaks of a thing less to tell the person to whom one talks than to make ease in the mind. I think this may be such a time for Linda, I think she did not believe I would understand, though I do, but needed to speak because what took place was heavy in her.

Her feeling is easily understood. The man for whom she spoke did evil, and yet he escaped all punishment because of her words and was set free among his people—among her people, too, I realize—to perhaps do the same evil again. And she says that it was the first time she had spoken for another in this way.

I go to her and take both her hands in mine, kneeling before her as she sits in chair. “Do not weep, Linda,” I say as gently as I may. “This time what you did was not best. But I think work you do is good. Those who are accused of bad things need one to speak for them. Otherwise they will be alone with all against them, whether they did the deed or did not.”

“But how can I defend men—and women, for that matter—who are guilty of things like this, or even worse?” she demands. “How can I try to get them off so they can go right back out to rape and kill and do God knows what?”

I do not understand each word, but I take her sense. “Will you then judge them before even judgment is given?” I ask. “Is it not needful that someone speak for these ones? I think only in this way can truth be found, with someone to speak on each side.”