‘justice.’ Correct?”
“Yes.”
“But what result, in the absence of a legal wrong? What result, in the absence of punishment? What is justice then?”
“Right.” Allie felt as if she and Barton were reasoning together, aloud.
“You find yourself in a morass. The law can’t tie it up in a bow for you, and neither can morality. Your friends are content to let it lie. You are not.”
“Yes.” Allie felt it strike a chord. “I want to know the truth.”
“But the truth may not be knowable, after so long. You may have to find a way to make peace with that. I suggest that you are missing the relevant point.” Barton raised a finger. “I think that because you were not given a punishment, you have been punishing yourself. Is that a fair statement?”
“Yes.” Allie knew it was true.
“But if you had gone to the authorities twenty years ago, you would not have been punished for twenty years.” Barton’s hooded eyes flared with new intensity. “You wouldn’t have gone to jail for even a day. You wouldn’t have been found civilly liable for even a penny. Yet you’ve given yourself a life sentence. Your friend who committed suicide gave himself a death sentence. Is that justice? No.”
Allie hadn’t thought of it that way.
“The law is about apportioning responsibility with precision. The criminal law calibrates it by degrees. Simply put, the punishment you gave yourself does not fit the crime. It is far too excessive. That is not justice. Justice demands proportionality.”
All of the hours Allie’s mind had been filled with this, she had never before thought of it that way.
“Justice also demands that you consider your role in context and in relationship to the others, not in isolation. You are the least culpable of all, Allie. You did not load the gun. You did not supply the bullet. You did not supply the gun. You did not hand the decedent the gun. It was not your idea to play Russian Roulette or a prank. You didn’t encourage the others to play. On the contrary, you discouraged them from so doing. You wanted to call 911 afterward, even though it was futile, but they told you to run. Is that fair to say?”
“Yes,” Allie answered, feeling somewhat better. “But what do I do, going forward? I can’t just shake it off.”
“You have a guilty conscience and a good heart. Ironically, they are conspiring against you.”
Allie hadn’t thought of herself as a good person in so long. His words felt like a salve.
“It is not a legal problem, but a moral one. Where does moral guidance come from? For myself, I look to my religion. Are you religious?”
“No, not really.” Allie didn’t add that ever since Jill died, she lacked faith.
“I normally don’t discuss my religion with clients, but allow me an analogy.” Barton paused, pursing his lips. “This set of facts is akin to an accidental killing, in that you took part in something in which someone was accidentally killed. So the question becomes, how can you shoulder this responsibility, this burden you feel, for this accidental killing? In fact, accidental killing is as old as biblical times. The example given is someone chops down a tree with an axe, but fatally injures another by accident. God recognized that such a person, if they were righteous, would feel lifelong guilt. That person would feel that they deserve to be rejected by other people.”
Allie felt that way exactly.
“However, God didn’t want them to feel rejected. He loved them still. So He commanded Moses to establish Cities of Refuge, where people who had accidentally killed others could live. He wished them to take refuge among those who had the same feelings and who bore them not as a secret, but shared them as a community. God’s intent was that these people would heal each other over time, through loving-kindness.” Barton’s expression softened, falling into deep lines. “There is a lesson there. You can find happiness in your future, but not alone. Not in isolation, as you have been.”
Allie found her heart lifting with hope. Tears came to her eyes. If she’d had a defining moment twenty years ago in the woods, she was having another one now.
Barton motioned to her hand. “I see that you’re married, so you have someone who loves you.”
“Oh, no, not anymore.” Allie felt a wrench in her chest at the irony. “My husband wants a divorce. My marriage is over because of this. I never told him what I told you today.”
Barton