Chapter 1

"With that, Your Honor, the prosecution rests."

The District Attorney, Mr.Hammonds, took his seat. Our eyes met briefly, and I gave a slight nod as if to acknowledge that he was indeed a worthy opponent. If the case had not been of such magnitude, I am sure he would have been insulted by my gesture - after all, he was a twenty-year veteran of courtroom trials. I was a kid starting out as far as comparisions were concerned, but neither of us felt complacent about our strengths. We were too much criminal lawyers for that.

This was not an ordinary murder case that we were handling. This one had all the potential of reaching those big boys back in DC, the ones who charge $400 for a toilet seat. In fact, I was sure, this case held within it the future of the relationship between justice and law. If that sounds melodramatic, take this - my clients, who selected me for defense counsel, were being tried on charges of criminal incest.

I am Ray Wilkins, aged thirty-eight. Fresh out of Law School, I was picked up by a famous firm, where I broke my back for over ten years before I made partner. After another three years, I had made enough to last my family generations, so I dropped out of the clock-by-hour circuit. I took up pro bono work, the only senior in my firm to do so. My colleagues were okay with the arrangement since I was always available for advice, strategy talk-throughs and personal words. I became the ES Gardner of my firm, the Moses of all the troubled attaches and aspiring partners. They had a problem, they came to me. When they went away, the problem was solved.

The adulation, therefore, came into good use when I decided to take up this case. The previous defense attorney was glad to be let off the hook, citing that the case was too hot for him to handle. I had come to know of this case through a stroke of luck, an accidental overhearing of a harried lawyer's woes. When I stepped in, he was glad to step out. But I must mention that the guy had done a fine job - in cases of this kind, the lawyer often goes for a guilty plea, but this guy stuck to his guns when it counted. The pre-trial had gone off smoothly, but as the grand trial approached, his acquaintances had done him the greatest of evils, viz, convinced him of failure and ostracization. Anyone who says there is no honor among lawyers isn't one himself.

Mr.Jose Patrick and his daughter Debbie were the defendants. If two people had ever so obviously been in love, this was the couple. You could see it in their eyes, the sparkle when they spoke. If I had entertained any doubts before, there was none now. I wanted to win. For them. For others like them.

The case was fairly open and shut. There was plenty of evidence to prove that they had been sleeping with each other, things like suggestive pictures and home movies. A couple of neighborhood busybodies testified that they had seen the silhouttes of the two people making love. I could have gone for identification, questioning its credibility, but in the long run, it wouldn't be worth it. Somewhere in the flow of evidence would be one picture, one letter, that would confirm their identities beyond doubt. Besides, the issue was larger than that. Neither Jose nor Debbie wanted to be let off for lack of insufficient evidence - the society would still condemn them and they would still be in danger of being caught.

It was either a conviction or an acquittal. The latter would free them from further indemnity by virtue of the 'Double Jeopardy' clause. A conviction could extend anywhere from a couple of years to preventive separation. For my clients, the last was the most painful punishment anybody could ever hand out to them. They would be forced to start new lives, legally prevented from seeing each other again. It was time to change the law.

I am also thankful for my family. My wife Carla didn't ever ask me to drop the case. In fact, at times, she seemed to be more enthusiastic about it than I was. She was a social worker, having dropped out of law school a year prior to graduation owing to the arrival of Gregory, our first-born. A couple of years later, at the local hospital, another member entered our little family, our sweet little baby Laurie. For sixteen years, ours had been a happy family, until a May evening when Greg was stabbed to death when he tried to protect his girlfriend. His death was a tremendous blow, and when the Judge had finally acquitted the bastards in court, I had all but loaded my sdhotgun when Laurie pleaded with me not to take the law into my own hands.

"Don't do this, Pop," she cried, holding onto my free arm. "I don't want to lose you too." Carla was still in shock at that time.

A couple of days later, though, I had my revenge. The men had managed to drive into the tracks of an oncoming train - one man's finger was never recovered.

Thankfully, this latest case did not destroy the sense of togetherness we were once again feeling as a family. At dinner, we would openly discuss the case. Even Laurie had her inputs. Without mentioning names, she would remark that one of her friends liked having her Dad feel her up, or that another liked kissing him more than anything else. Carla would chip in with useful statistics like unwed mothers, deserting boyfriends/husbands, sob-stories, etc. By the time the first hearing took place, I had a boxload of facts to back up my tactics.

Unlike other family cases, though, the current one had a jury sitting in. The purpose was not only to bring forth a sense of justice into the case that had received wide publicity; it was also to ensure that the public be represented in some sort in the decision. As far as anyone knew, this case would be the turning point in how the society in general and courts in particular viewed the taboo of incest.

"Your Honor," I began my side of the case. So far, I had kept my cross-examination to a minimum. Predictably, the opposition, not to mention the Judge himself, was confused. As I said earlier, the key was not the identification, it was the archaic view. That would be the Achilles' heel that I was aiming for. "I call Dr.Elmore Freund to the stand."

The reaction from the prosecution would have exhilarated any defense attorney, and I was even happier when I noticed that their shock had registered on the jurors. They were unconsciously straining on their seats now, expecting a bombshell to be dropped at any point.

Dr.Freund came to the stand and was sworn. He was the consummate professional, glancing at everyone before him with amiable eyes. I could tell the jurors immediately liked this man, and to tell you the truth, he was an even better professional than he let on. He was the ideal witness - if he were asked to explain his conclusions on the basis of his observations, he would deliver, depending on his audience, a precise account in a sufficiently technical or laymanesque fashion. He was as much at ease on the stand as he was behind his desk.

"If the prosecution deems it necessary, I will prove Dr.Freund's credentials," I offered. Mr.Hammonds politely declined, saying a mere unconditional stipulation would be enough. Hammonds knew when to knife the butter, but he also knew the difference between butter and rubber. To challenge Dr.Freund's expertise would be the equivalent of 'harakiri' - suicide. The stipulation was duly recorded.

"Dr.Freund, what is your occupation?"

"I am the chief examining officer, CEO, if you will, (this brought a smile to even the Judge's face) of the Government Mental and Recommendation Facility here in Baltimore, and in anticipation of your next question, was so employed last month."

"Thank you, Doctor. Now why would I ask you about last month?"

"The defendants, Mr.Jose Patrick and Ms.Debbie Patrick, were brought to me for examination, to see if there was something wrong with any one of them."

At this point, Hammonds inserted an objection. "Confidential and privilged information," he offered.

"Overruled," the Judge said. "Unless the information is pertaining to others."

"Thank you, Your Honor. Now, doctor, when you said that the instructions to you had been to determine their sanity, did you mean the defendants?"

"Yes, of course. I was asked to look for the Electra Complex in Debbie and the Suppressed-Oedipus Syndrome in Jose, if I may be permitted to use their first names. Would you like me to explain these terms, Mr.Wilkins?"

"Please."

"The Electra Complex is often used to denote the fixations of daughters on their fathers - especially adolescent and older girls. It is not just fathers, mind you, but also father-figures. Often, the realities when they reach the father are, in the minds of a girl suffering from the complex, so distorted that the relationship takes on a sexual overtone. The father is the supreme being in the girl's eyes, and often raised to super-human levels. In other words, the perfect man any woman could want. The Suppressed-Oedipus Syndrome is the exact opposite of the Electra Complex. The SOS, as it is often addressed, arises from suppressed feelings of sexuality a man felt in his boyhood. The woman at that time may be his mother, sister, cousin, aunt or any other female relative, the only necessity being that that female be older than him. These feelings are never expressed, but form an intense core at the centre of his life. At a later stage, he begins to feel that his daughter encompasses in her all the virtues that he so adores and his desire starts burning. Most of the rape cases arise due to a modified form of SOS. The typical form, however, ultimately leads to the consummation of his need, with or without his daughter's compliance."

"Can either of these two depressions affect the reasoning?"

"Yes, they can. As I said, both the complex and the syndrome deal with the blurring of boundaries. At that point, the power to think analytically is beyond the reach of the patients."

"Are you an authority on the matter, Doctor?"

"I have had my share of patients of these, so I can say I know something about them. But yes, my diagnoses are accurate."

"Thank you, Doctor. But if you had been hired by the DA's office, why didn't you appear as a witness for the prosecution?" The right question.

"Objection, Your Honor. Irrelevant and immaterial to the case," Hammonds stood up.

"Overruled," the Judge said. "The Court would like to know why a Government doctor who evaluated these defendants was not on direct by the prosecution. Continue, Dr.Freund." The bang of the gavel was the cue for Hammonds to take his seat.

"They were primarily brought to me so that I could testify later that they were menatlly unfit. However, my examination revealed that neither of the two defendants are ill from these depressions."

"What are they ill of, Doctor?"

Dr.Freund grinned at me. The timing was perfect. "I would say they are infected by love."

All hell broke loose. Even as the audience laughed, Hammonds was viciously objecting. He needn't have bothered, though, for the Judge had already asked the court reporter to strike off that remark. In the melee, I glanced at the jurors surreptiously. The hit had found its mark - there was sympathy in their eyes. The mood had been lifted, and if I could channel the right amount of humor with proof and sympathy, Jose and Debbie would walk away free at the end of the case. As any lawyer would tell you, cases in a jury-system such as ours are fought as much with emotion as with evidence. Look out for the jurors. 'If they start staring at you, it is an indication that the verdict is going against you.'

"He's all yours," I turned to Hammonds.

"No cross," he said curtly.

"The witness is excused. Mr.Wilkins, your next witness, please."

I had a brief moment with my clients. In all fairness, I must say that neither Jose nor Debbie were the best-looking in the courtroom. There was a beauty in each of them, but it was in their character. Jose looked every bit his four-and-a-half decades of age, and Debbie, at twenty-two, hardly looked older than seventeen. Her face still had an inocent look, her body that underdeveloped but natural sheen. They smiled prettily and would have, in all probability, been the best suited couple on the block if a slight divine miscalculation had not placed them as father and daughter.

The next phase of my case dealt with statistics. This was a tricky stretch. If I spoke for too long or the statistics became too derivative, I stood to lose all the brownie points that Dr.Freund had gained for us. My professor had taught me to defend a case as 'us' - he told me that once it becomes 'me' and 'them', the determination to win is lost. So whenever I handle a case, I always tell myself that my life is as much on the line as theirs.

I wound up my statistics in less than half-an-hour, breaking in the middle to call up a witness. The purpose of his testimony was not merely to provide defense, the interruption would also serve to make my statistical presentation less boring and give the impression of shortening it. The man was actually a concierge at the Ritz, NYC, testifying that Jose and Debbie had indeed registered at the hotel under their own names. He recounted his surprise when Jose had silently asked him to allot the honeymooners' suite to the two of them. The impression was conveyed to the jury that Jose was not merely leading his daughter on, and instead, that they were carrying on a very mature relatonship.

The judge waited until I had finished, and then announced that the case was closed for the day. "The jurors will remember the admonition of the court not to deliberate the case with others or among themselves, and not to form an opinion before this case is fully presented to you. Should there be any effort from either side to contact you, the Court expects to be notified immediately. Court adjourned."

At home that night, the three of us debated our options. I wanted to put Debbie on the stand first thing the next morning, but Carla pointed out that the prosecution could go in for rape of Debbie by Jose. Such an attack would be the end of the case. On the other hand, Laurie wanted me to make my opening statement, one that I had deferred earlier. Ultimately, I decided to satisfy both of them - I would make my statement, then go on to prove that Debbie was over eighteen before she first made love to anyone. Again, this was a risky part. I had to prove that Debbie was still a virgin at eighteen, and to do that, I had to get her first boyfriend on the stand. If that didn't pan out, it left my fortress wide open for the DA to tear it apart. The rest of the evening was spent in locating a Benjamin Russoe, who Debbie said had taken her virginity on HIS eighteenth birthday. Debbie, thankfully, was over eighteen at that time.

Success!

The next morning, at precisely 10 am, the court was called to order. There was a fleeting sense of relief when I saw the jurors trooping in, looking a lot less severe than they had yesterday. "I know it is quite unorthodox, Your Honor, but I would like to make my opening statement at this moment. I will also be introducing a witness, one that I was able to locate only yesterday evening. If counsel so wishes, they can have some time to examine him before he goes on the stand." The best proof of innocence - generosity. Always get people to believe that you have nothing to fear, for it is an indication that you have nothing to hide.

Hammonds looked at the dossier I had provided on his desk. The subtle change in expression clearly showed that he had lost one of his backup trumps, but being the warrior that he was, he kept up a poker face, shrugging off the witness as if he were irrelevant to the case. I gave an internal whoop of triumph before proceeding.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the issue here before us is not just to decide whether these two people did do what they are alleged to have done. No, it is deeper than that. In their eyes, in my eyes, there is nothing wrong in what they have done. Your job, as I most respectfully point out, is not just to decide their guilt. Your job is to decide whether their deeds are criminally punishable. I know the law says that what they did was wrong, but then, can't the law be wrong? We are talking about an old Victorian rule that was carried over the years. We are talking about defining the basic family relationship. If one loves but cannot say it out loud, what use is society? Regretfully, we are still living in the olden days when it comes to laws such as these. We still believe that parents rape their children everytime a case like this comes up. We believe that siblings are mentally unstable if they love each other in a more expressive manner.

"To quote an old dialogue, 'Hath not they blood? Hath not they skin that bleed when pricked?' What makes these people, these incestuous people, any different from the rest of us? Is it because we cannot accept what they do? Isn't it our intolerance, then, that makes them the victims? Isn't it our prejudice that maims them? Look at today's world - parents have little control over their teenage children because of a law that says control is tantamount to child abuse. AIDS is increasing. So's drugs and unwed pregnancies. We allow every girl and every boy the luxury of losing their virginities inside cars and barns, and yet, deny the sanctity of their own homes. We speak for sexual freedom and openness and yet, we lock up practices like this in dirty cupboards, too taboo even to talk about. Where did we go wrong?

"Or should the question be, is it here that we set things right? We are talikng about two adults, two mature people of this world who sought solace in each other's arms. Is it their fault that they happened to be related? We would allow a girl to lose her innocence in a painful manner and throw up our arms in helplessness, just because the girl wanted it in the BEGINNING. We allow people to make mistakes and have sex, but what right do we have to control their lovemaking? The spontaneous acts that arise out of selflessness, of sacrifice, of giving an ounce back of the love that a person gets - who are we to put shackles on them?

"The United States of America came into existence two hundred years ago as the symbol of freedom. And what have we done? Adopt such totalitarian laws from the past! We are cutting down the freedom that we once fought for, died for. A lot of cry has been made about incest pregnancies, but in this day and age of birth control, this is just hogwash. There is as much chance of the girl next door getting knocked up because of her boyfriend as because of her father. If such unions produce flawed offspring, don't other, unrelated people have similar difficulties? Are we to deny a diabetic patient a married life just because his son could also become a diabetic? We are not talking about lowering the age of consent or narrowing the concept of rape. We are not asking for the rights of parents to molest their children. We are not asking you to undermine the security of a family.

"All we are asking of you is to change the law so that adults may enjoy real love, without fear of the society or of the law."

The silence when I sat down was so intense that I could even hear the shuffle of the doorman's feet forty feet behind me. A slight smatter of an applause started, but was quickly muted when the Judge asked for order. For around five seconds, everyone in the courtroom were in a state of suspended animation, taking in my words and churning them over and over again. The jurors were looking at us in a very curious manner, already debating the verdict. I stood up.

"I call Mr.Benjamin Russoe to the stand."

Suffice to say, without going through the entire transcript of his testimony, that Ben worked like a charm. I was able to convince the jury that Debbie had had no prior sexual experience when she first 'did it' with him, thereby ruling out any chance of technical rape by her father before that.

Debbie took the stand. Every eye in the courtroom was focused sympathetically towards her, as if apologizing for the hardships she was being put through. I smiled warmly at her, the gesture being duly returned. "Good morning, Ms.Patrick," I greeted her.

"Good morning to you too, Mr.Wilkins."

"Let me get to the point, Ms.Patrick. How old were you when you first had sex - I mean, intercourse?"

"I was over eighteen. As Ben - Mr.Russoe - said, it was on his birthday night."

"Just for the record, Ma'm. Did your father ever touch you in a sexual manner before that time?"

"No, of course not."

"Who made the first move, then?"

"I did - well, actually, circumstances brought us together and I just took advantage of the opportunity."

"So until that night, your father had never made any advances to you? Or else, let me put it this way. Has he ever gone against your wishes in physical contact, innocent or otherwise?"

"Well, he did spank me once when I was nine or ten. After that, he has been a perfect gentleman," Debbie said, the smile still on her face. Thank God, I thought, she wasn't going into trauma on the stand or anything.

I smiled back at her, as did most of the jurors. "I am sure there must have been a reason for the spanking - but was your mother present at that time?"

For a brief moment, her eyes clouded. "I think she was. All I do remember of her was that she ran away when I was barely eleven."

"I am sorry -"

"Don't be. She wasn't a very pleasant person to live with. Always grumbling and bitching... , sorry, Your Honor. Anyway, for the last twelve-thirteen years, it's been just the two of us."

"And yet, even after all those years of being together, you mean to tell us that not a single sexual moment passed between the two of you?"

Even though we had gone over her testimony once, Debbie gave me a stare. "Until recently, we were just father and daughter. There was nothing more to the relationship, and there was nothing less. As I said, my father is the perfect gentleman. If you have any doubts, you can ask my friends."

"It was an insensitive question, Ms.Patrick, but necessary. When did you first have sex with your father?"

"I would prefer the term, 'making love'," she said icily. Her features softened immediately, though, and she continued in a friendlier voice. "We were stuck on the road while coming back from a family function. It was over seven months ago, if my memory is correct."

"Was it pleasant?"

"Very!"

I was expecting Hammonds to get up any moment now and object quoting irrelevance, but he just sat there, idly listening to the direct examination. Either he had lost all hope of winning the case, or he had just figured a hole in my arguments. It was still anybody's ballgame.

"If it may please the Court," I said, "Ms.Patrick can give a graphic description of what happened that night. The testimony would not be irrelevant, Your Honor, for it goes to show the purity of the affair."

"If the prosecution has no objections,... very well Mr.Wilkins, proceed. Bailiff, clear out all people below sixteen from this courtroom."

From the back row there was a snicker at the Judge's instruction. The foreman openly smiled, influencing his neighbor to do the same. Light moments were rare in a courtroom.

"Ms.Patrick, could you recount the events of that day, please?"

"Sure," she said brightly. "Should I be, like, you know, recounting it as if it were a story, or would you prefer a blase and objective account?"

"Make it interesting - truthful, but interesting." I sat in my chair, leaning back casually. The Judge and the DA were too preoccupied (excited, perhaps?) with the upcoming testimony that my nonchalance went unnoticed. The jurors were leaning forward on their seats now, awaiting one of the most unique testimonies ever to be recorded.

"To tell you the truth, until that day, I'd never thought of making love to my father. We had gone to Tennessee for a wedding, and on the way back, there happened to be a big storm. The roads were too slick to drive safely on, so Dad and I decided to check in at the first motel that we saw. Sure enough, there was a motel, not a sleazy one, just by the side of the road, and they happened to have a vacancy - a single vacancy. We took the room, checking in as father and daughter.

"As it was, our clothes were soaked wet in the few seconds that we were out in the rain. The rest of our clothes were still in the car, which we had to leave at the entrance of the motel. Our clothes were practically clinging to the skin when we got into the room. I decided to take a shower, but since I didn't have any spare, I took them off and entered the shower. Just then, the owner called us up to inform us that there was about ten minutes' worth of hot water in the shower. I would have to curtail my shower if Dad were to get his share.

"And at that moment, after being soaked to the skin, I wasn't particularly up to reducing the warmth that the shower was giving me. Of course Dad would never have complained even if I had used up the entire hot water, but I knew he needed it as much as I did. So I did the next logical thing. I invited him to shower with me.

"For a few moments, Dad haawed and hummed and finally, gave in. But even as he stepped in, I started to have different feelings about him. I suppose it was the intimacy of the situation or something, but at that instant, I viewed him as objectively as a woman does a suitor. I liked what I saw. Dad had kept himself in good shape, as you can see so obviously, and his recent hours at yardwork had given him a great tan. Dad got into the shower, and once again, a strange sense of excitement began to travel across my body when I realized that he was not totally unconscious of how good I looked.

"I had to clear my throat to ask him to pass the soap. As it passed hands, the soap slipped, only to be caught by Dad before it fell down. Problem was, it was now pressed firmly against my breast - and Dad was grasping my breast. It was an accident, a very pleasant one, we knew that. Both of us turned bright red. I glanced at the mirror - it showed the two of us, naked and standing side-by-side, with Daddy's hand still cupping my breast. The image itself was so erotic that both of us just stared at it for a few seconds.

"Dad started apologising profusely, but I told him to shut up. Since he had already scrubbed my breast - well, in a way - I wanted him to wash me like he had when I was a baby. I could see Dad was aroused and if my pussy was any indication, I was on fire. Especially when Dad started to soap me liberally. He started at my neck, whispering in my ears how he used to love bathing me when I was young. He said it made him feel so powerful, so valued, that such a tiny tot placed so much trust in him. In the spirit of the moment, I told him he could wash me whenever he wanted.

"Daddy gulped.

"It took a bit of coaxing, but ultimately, he decided to take care of my breasts as well. So far, he had managed to keep clear of it by concentrating on my back, but I wasn't about to let him off that easily. I insisted that he wash my tits - sorry, breasts - and other parts too. To tell you the truth, it felt so good to have his strong hands knead my breasts into submission. A naughty part of my mind already wanted to tell him that he had better wash my body well, for that was going to be his dinner for the night, but thankfully, it didn't.

"Dad started to hesitate when he reached the lower part of my abdomen. I could see he was unsure whether he could continue or not, and I solved his dilemma by guiding his hand right to my pussy - er, vagina. We just looked into each other's eyes until I realized he needed more reassuarance that I was okay with the seduction that was being played out. I kissed him.

"He kissed me back."

Debbie smiled shyly. At a nod from me, she continued. "So here we were, father and daughter, alone and kissing each other more passionately than we had ever kissed anybody else. It was terrific to feel his tongue savouring mine, running over my teeth and the undersides of my tongue. Dad had his arms wrapped around my bottom, pushing me up against him each time our mouths moved. As for me, I was like a woman possessed, or so he later told me - my arms were wrapped around him so hard that he feared that his cock - I mean, penis - might be crushed at any moment. For over a couple of minutes, we just stood there under the shower, kissing and loving every moment of it.

"We were so passionately involved that we hardly noticed when the water started to run cold!

"When we did discover that the water was actually freezing cold, we hurried out of the shower. I tripped, but thankfully, Dad was there to catch me. As I lay in his arms, our eyes established such a direct contact that I hardly noticed anything else. Dad mouthed an I Love You to me, and I replied that I loved him just as much. Dad laughed and told me that he doubted it - nobody could love anybody as much as he did, as he always had. This brought tears to my eyes, and Dad kissed them away gently.