The trial was set for the Thursday after Halloween. Mr. Johnson arranged with Matthew’s mother and father to meet them all at the courthouse. Until the trial date, Matthew found it difficult to sleep. He lay awake, picturing the man charging at him across the courtroom with a huge knife in his hand. He tried to distract himself by reading, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t even do anything more with his art work. Except for the time he spent with Stephan, his only comfort was looking up at the bi-plane and thinking of his friend.
At 9:00 AM, Matthew and his parents arrived at the courthouse, an imposing granite building like so many other government buildings in New England. Matthew had been unable to eat any breakfast, and he felt exhausted for lack of sleep. He was wearing his dark blue suit with a white shirt and a tie. In his hand he held his three pictures. Entering the building they found the courtroom and were about to go in when an officer asked them to wait outside because Matthew was a witness and could not see the trial until he testified. Soon, Billy and Stephan and their parents arrived. Mr. Johnson entered, spoke briefly with Matthew and his parents, and walked into the courtroom. The three boys sat together, talking quietly while their parents sat on other benches, comparing notes. They were the only people waiting except a middle-aged woman in an old wool coat who sat by herself, crying.
Time passed until the officer opened the door and asked for Billy, who went into the courtroom with his parents. A half hour later, the officer reappeared, asking for Stephan. “Good luck, Stephan,” Matthew said as the boy and his parents entered the courtroom, leaving Matthew alone on the boys’ bench. Sitting by himself and worrying, he began to tremble. While his voice seemed to have finished changing, he was terribly afraid it would crack in the courtroom and embarrass him. His Mother, seeing him shaking, went to sit beside him, resisting the urge to put her arm around his shoulders. Finally, it was Matthew’s turn.
The courtroom was not as large as Matthew had imagined. At the front of the room was a desk, behind which sat the judge. Next to the desk was a chair, where Matthew was asked to sit. There were two other tables in the room, one for the prosecutor and one for the defendant and his lawyers. Behind a low railing were three rows of chairs where the other boys, their parents, Mr. Johnson, and another man were sitting. Matthew refused to look at the defendant, but sat with his eyes downcast until he was asked to stand and be sworn in. Standing unsteadily, he hoped the man holding the Bible couldn’t see his hand shake. When he was seated again, the prosecutor approached him, asking him to state his name, age, and address for the court record. He found himself mumbling until the judge kindly asked him to speak up so she could hear.
“Matthew,” said the prosecutor, “Would you please tell the court in your own words what happened on the nights of September 25th and 26th.” He went through his story in much the same way he had with his parents and the prosecutor, looking at the floor and speaking with no expression. He told about the masturbation, the sucking, and the threat. He also told about being ambushed by the defendant on his way home from school and being threatened again. When he finished, the room was silent for several moments. .
“Thank you, Matthew,” the prosecutor finally continued. “Could you please show your pictures and tell the court about them?” A lawyer for the defendant leapt to his feet, objecting to the request, but the judge allowed it, so Matthew held up the first picture, looking toward the judge and telling how he happened to draw it and what he thought it meant. He did the same with the second and third pictures. Again, there was silence in the courtroom.
“Matthew,” continued the prosecutor, “I have one more thing to ask about.” A shudder ran through Matthew; he knew what the question would be. “You have told me and the court that Mr. Sinclair threatened you, but you haven’t said how. I believe we need to hear that now. Will you tell us?”
“Do I have to?”
The judge said, “Matthew, if you do not, that would be termed ‘withholding evidence,’ and it could be serious. We all understand your reluctance to relive that time, but I think I must insist.”
Matthew remembered he had been warned by the prosecutor that this was coming, so he nodded, sitting silently, eyes downcast, for a time. Finally he shuddered and began. “When Sinclair told me to suck his penis I tried to refuse. Then he took out a knife and held it down by my crotch. I could feel it pricking my balls...I’m sorry, my testicles. He said that if I didn’t do as I was told he would cut off one of my testicles, and if I still didn’t do it, he would cut off the other. Then he told me what it would be like growing up with no testicles, how my voice wouldn’t finish changing and I would never be able to have sex. When he said that, I was terrified, so I did what he told me to do.” By that time, Matthew’s mother, the prosecutor, the judge, and Mr. Johnson and the other man were all in tears, while the boys stared at him. Matthew added, “He threatened the same thing when he caught me coming home from school and he also threatened to beat me up.”
The prosecutor said quietly, “Thank you Matthew. Then, turning to the defense table she said, “Your witness.”
Matthew gave a sigh of relief. He had managed to talk about his fear and Sinclair’s threat in front of everybody there. He was very pleased that his voice hadn’t cracked once. But through all his testimony, he’d kept his eyes on the floor. He hadn’t had the courage to look at his parents. Now that he was done, he had to. Scared, but needing to know, he moved his eyes to them. He looked at his mother and saw love and support still radiating from her. His father was looking proudly at him.
One of Mr. Sinclair’s lawyers rose and approached Matthew. Looking at the boy he said, “Somehow, Matthew, I don’t think you have told us the whole story. What did you do to encourage Mr. Sinclair?”
Matthew had not expected the question and it made him angry. He took his time answering. “I didn’t do anything to encourage him, sir. When all this started, I was asleep.”
“But weren’t you sleeping on top of the sleeping bag in just your undershorts?”
“Yes, sir. It was hot.”
“So you were lying there in your beautiful blonde curls and your lovely golden tan skin and you didn’t think that was provocative?” The prosecutor began to rise and object, but then regained her seat.
“I’m sorry sir, but I don’t know what that means.”
“Provocative means Tempting. Exciting. Arousing. Stimulating!” With each word, the lawyer’s voice rose.
“No, sir. If you think I was trying to tempt him, I wasn’t.”
“So you’re telling me that you were not trying to arouse Mr. Sinclair to commit sex acts?”
“That’s right. I wouldn’t ever think of that or do it.”
“Somehow, I find that hard to believe!”
“Well that’s how it was,” Matthew replied angrily.
“That will be enough,” interjected the Judge.
“No more questions,” sighed the lawyer.
The judge told Matthew he could leave. For the first time, Matthew looked at Sinclair. The boy was furious with the suggestion that he’d somehow been responsible for Sinclair’s behavior, and he decided right then that he would no longer be the victim. Walking over to the defendant’s table and leaning his hands on it, he put his face into Sinclair’s and shouted, “You gutless, fucking, cock-sucking bastard! You have destroyed my life and you sit there as if you were watching a movie. I hope you suffer for the rest of your life and then go straight to hell!”
“That’s enough!” declared the judge. Matthew looked away, nodded, and went to the rear seats where his friends and family were. “Good job, Matthew,” whispered Stephan. I’m glad you told the bastard off.” Matthew sat between Stephan and his mother, letting her squeeze his hand.
The defense called only one witness, the defendant’s wife. The woman the boys had observed in the hallway entered the courtroom looking neither left nor right. After she was sworn in and had identified herself, she said under questioning that her husband had always been a good man, that he had never been in trouble, that he loved his work in the scouts, and that, if he went to jail, she didn’t know what she and their three children would do.
At that, the boys in the back looked at each other. They had never known that he was a family man or that now he had ruined not only their lives but the lives of his wife and children as well.
When she finished, the defense rested. There were closing arguments, in which the lawyer again implied that Matthew had lured Sinclair to do what he did, and then the judge declared a short recess while she considered her verdict. During the recess, Billy asked to see Matthew’s pictures. Staring at them, his only comment was “Shit!”
The recess only lasted about fifteen minutes. When the judge had re-entered and everybody was seated, the defendant was asked to rise. “Mr. Sinclair,” began the judge, ‘by any measure of civilized society, what you have done is despicable. You have taken young boys who were entrusted to your care and you have violated them, luring them into sexual acts which they never would have contemplated doing with you on their own. You have taken advantage of their trust, scared them, and it is probable that they will need many hours of therapy to deal with what you have done. At the very least, they will never be the same. I therefore find you guilty on three charges of rape of a child, and sentence you to the maximum I can, which is ten years in state prison. In addition, you have intimidated at least one witness, and for that I sentence you to an additional five years, to be served after the ten-year sentence. You are fortunate, sir, that that is the most I can do.”
As Mr. Sinclair was taken away and the families exited the courtroom, Matthew noticed the man who had been sitting next to Mr. Johnson. In the hallway Mr. Johnson introduced him to Matthew and his parents as Dr. Butkus, Matthew’s new therapist. He asked the boy for permission to discuss his case with the psychiatrist and Matthew agreed. Dr. Butkus shook Matthew’s hand, and asked his parents if he could see Matthew the following Monday, to which they agreed. He asked Matthew to bring his pictures with him, and then departed.
Mr. Johnson turned to Matthew and said, “Matthew, probably nobody outside of this courtroom will ever know, but today you were a true hero. You did what you had to do to protect other boys who will never even know they were in danger. I’m proud of you, your parents are proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself. You showed real courage. And,” he added, smiling, “I’m so glad you took the chance to tell that monster off!”
Matthew smiled and thanked him profusely, shaking his hand. Then suddenly he threw his arms around the man and hugged him, sobbing and saying, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” When he finally released Mr. Johnson, the man asked if he would keep in touch, because he wanted to know how things went. Matthew replied, “Of course. I’d miss you too much if we didn’t keep in contact.”
His mother, standing beside him, asked, “Matthew, will you let me hug you, even just a little?” Matthew dissolved in tears, falling into her arms and embracing her. When they parted he hugged his father. “I think, little by little, I’ll get better,” he said, “but Mr. Johnson said I would always have the scars from this. I just have to keep reminding myself that, even though there are monsters in the world, there are a lot more good people than monsters.” With that, he hugged them again, looked around the hall and saw Mrs. Sinclair crying quietly by the water fountain. Motioning to his two friends he went over to her.
“Mrs. Sinclair?” he asked. She looked up, saw the three boys, and visibly paled. “We want you to know that we’re very sorry about this. We know what happened wasn’t your fault or your children’s fault. We’re all of us victims, and I think you must be as devastated as we are. Please believe that we wish the best for you and your children, and we hope you’ll be able to get beyond this and make new lives for yourselves.”
She sniffed, taking his hand in both of hers. “You’re so very kind. Thank you, boys. I have no idea what we’ll do, but we will survive. I suppose I’ll have to try to find a job. And I’m so sorry about what my husband did to you. You didn’t deserve it any more than we did.”
With that the three families left together. They discussed going somewhere to eat because the boys wanted to stay together. In the end, the boys all went to Stephan’s house and the other parents went on to work or home.
Over lunch the boys discussed the trial, the others congratulating Matthew on saying what he had to Sinclair and on finding the courage to finally talk about the threat. Stephan and Billy were angry that the lawyer had tried to blame what happened on Matthew. “I was angry at first,” said Matthew, “but later I realized he was only doing his job. I think, in the end, he may have made things worse for Sinclair instead of better.” Then they speculated about what would happen to the scout troop. Matthew said, “I don’t know, but I know I’ll never be able to go back to it. It would only remind me of all the horrors of that weekend.” The other boys thought they might go back but understood completely what he was saying.
“What are you going to do with your pictures?” asked Billy.
“I don’t know. Dr. Butkus asked to see them on Monday. After that I’ll have to decide whether to keep them or destroy them. Maybe they’ve done their job.”
“Dr. Who?” asked Billy, who had not been present for the introductions.
“Dr. Butkus, my new therapist.”
“Dr. Buttkiss?” chortled Billy, deliberately mispronouncing the name. “I wonder whose butt he kisses!”
They laughed, as Matthew said, “I don’t know and I don’t care as long as it’s not mine! I think I’ve had enough of anything having to do with sex to last me a lifetime.”
His friends suddenly grew very serious. “Don’t say that, Matthew,” said Billy. “I think sex can be great with the right person. It doesn’t have to be dirty and awful the way it was with Sinclair. Someday you’ll find somebody you really love, and then sex will be wonderful.”
Stephan agreed, saying, “He’s right I think. Sure we don’t know much about it yet, but what little we do know can be wonderful. You’ll learn to love it again, Matthew. After all you don’t want to be a monk all your life.”
Smiling, Matthew said nothing.
That evening, in his bedroom, Matthew began the fourth and final picture in the series. He showed the monster lying dead on its back, the knife on the floor beside it. On its stomach stood three figures, a man and two boys, one with blonde wavy hair and the other with black curls. The man and the dark-haired boy had their swords raised in triumph while the blonde, standing between them naked and with his erect penis and his testicles very much intact, held the hilt of his sword which was plunged into the monster’s heart as blood poured from the wound. Gazing at it, he smiled before taking it down to show his parents.
After looking at it closely and listening to his narrative of it, his mother asked, “Is that how you’re feeling now?”
“Triumphant? Yes. Past what happened? No. I know that’ll take a lot of time, but I’m beginning to feel more normal.”
In bed that night, he slept deeply for the first time in weeks.