Stella explains that Linda Lokind had been following and harassing her for several weeks. She was scared; she knew Linda was unstable and perhaps even dangerous. That was why Stella slipped into Tegnérs, mostly to surround herself with people while she waited for Amina or Chris to respond.
“They never did, so once I had calmed down a little, I decided to bike home. I only made it to Kyrkogatan, the intersection by the library. And there stood Linda Lokind again.”
The lay judges are startled and a buzz goes through the gallery. The only person who doesn’t seem affected in the least is Jenny Jansdotter. She is sitting ramrod straight, perfectly still, as if she’s just waiting for her chance to crush Stella.
“I was terrified,” Stella says, and she explains how she darted into the pub Inferno, right at that intersection.
She hid in the back of the pub and hoped Linda Lokind wouldn’t follow her.
“Amina still wasn’t answering and I couldn’t get hold of Chris, so I decided to bike to his place. It was all such a nightmare. I didn’t know what to do.”
Stella’s breathing is the only sound audible in the room. All eyes are on her.
“They weren’t there,” Stella says.
Beside me, people turn their heads. Someone scrapes their shoe against the floor. A gal from the TV news chews her gum.
“I rang the bell and banged on the door. Then I pressed my ear up against it to listen, but they weren’t there.”
Stella lifts her water glass. Her hand is quaking and as she leans forward, her hair falls in front of her face.
Something seems off. What if she tells the whole story? Stella has always loved drama. She used to dream of becoming an actor, and here she has her stage, her audience, her big number. I desperately extend one arm toward her.
“I biked home. I biked home and went to bed,” she says, brushing her hair to the side. “I don’t know what happened after that.”
87
“With that, the prosecutor has the floor,” says the presiding judge.
Jenny Jansdotter doesn’t move. Every muscle in her severe face appears to be in deep concentration. The whole courtroom is waiting for her.
Then she gives a start and turns toward Stella.
“Who wasn’t there?”
Her voice is sharp and authoritative, not at all in keeping with her stature.
“What?”
“You just said ‘They weren’t there.’ Who were you referring to?”
Stella makes a gesture that’s meant to seem blasé.
“Chris,” she says. “Christopher Olsen. He wasn’t in his apartment, so I went home.”
“But you didn’t say ‘he.’ You said ‘they.’ Plural. More than one person. Who was it, besides Chris Olsen, that wasn’t there?”
Stella shoots a quick glance at Michael.
“Amina, I guess.”
“Amina Be?i??”
Stella nods.
“I must ask you to respond verbally to the prosecutor’s questions,” says G?ran Leijon. “For the sake of the recording.”
Stella glowers at him. Her upper lip trembles.
“Yes,” Stella says, her voice exaggeratedly loud.
When I turn my head, I discover that the bearded journalist is watching me. He hastily turns away as soon as our eyes meet.
What is he thinking about me? I look around at the spectators. What are they thinking? Maybe they feel sorry for me. Surely some of them blame me. Others probably feel that a parent bears partial responsibility for the actions of their child. Especially in my case. Partly because I’m a woman and a mother; a man could never be burdened to the same extent. Partly because I’m a hard-boiled defense attorney, while my husband is a charming pastor who preaches God’s love and the Golden Rule.
Should I also be sitting in the defendant’s seat? Side by side with Stella, accused of having an inadequate aptitude for parenting and being an accessory to murder. I am convinced that some people think I should be.
Jenny Jansdotter aims a meaningful look at the presiding judge before going on. I have no idea what the prosecutor is thinking, but I consider it highly unlikely that she regards me as thoroughly innocent.
“Why did you assume Amina would be at Chris’s residence?” she asks Stella.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I did assume that.”
“But that’s what you just said.”
Jansdotter has orchestrated an effective silence in the court. Stella doesn’t know where to look.
“Why did you believe that Amina was with Christopher Olsen on this particular night, the thirty-first of August?” the prosecutor asks. “Wasn’t it true that you had broken off all contact with Olsen? Both you and Amina?”