Authors: Eva Wiseman
“What reasons?” Mr. Eotvos asked.
“The girl was naked as the day she was born when Mr. Bary told me to look at her. However, the clothes she was wearing when they found her were lying on the ground next to her. They were the same clothes I saw Esther wearing the last time I saw her alive, the day she disappeared.”
As I shifted on my chair, my bruised body protested and I almost yelped from pain. I tried to find a more comfortable position.
“Sorry, sir, I need a moment to catch my breath,” I told Mr. Eotvos.
“Are you all right? We can continue tomorrow.”
“I'm fine, sir, just sore.”
He poured water into a glass from a jug on the defense table and handed it to me. It helped a little.
“I'm fine now, sir. I can answer your questions again.”
“All right, let's proceed. You claim that first you identified the corpse as your friend Esther Solymosi and then you recognized her clothes. What clothes were there?”
“A red, white, and black plaid jacket, a red-striped belt, a black skirt, a white apron and blouse, and a white underskirt were lying on the ground beside Esther. A tin box was on top of the clothes. She had the same container in her hand the last time I saw her alive. She needed it for the paint she was going to buy at Kohlmayer's.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am, sir.”
“Are you certain she was wearing the same clothes the last time you saw her alive?”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
“So let me repeat again. You identified the corpse as being Esther and the clothes as belonging to her. And there was also the container for the paint you saw before.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What makes you so sure you weren't making a mistake?” he asked.
He looked around the audience to gauge their reactions. I followed his gaze. Everybody was hanging on our every word.
“I recognized Esther and her clothes sir, but there was also her scar.”
“Scar? What scar?” Mr. Eotvos looked astonished.
“When we were young, Esther tried to milk her cow, Magda. The cow trampled on Esther's right foot. Ever since, there was a large crescent-shaped scar at the base of her right toe. I must have seen it a thousand times. The body
from the Tisza had the same scar at the base of her right toe.”
“Are you sure about this?” asked Mr. Eotvos. “I read the report of the pathologist who examined the corpse and there was no mention of a scar in it!”
“The girl is telling the truth!” cried a voice from the left side of the courtroom and a man in city clothes stood up. It took me a moment to recognize him. He was one of the men who had been standing around Esther's body on the bank of the Tisza River. I remembered him because he had told Bary not to be so certain the Jews had killed Esther.
“Silence, Zuranyi!” cried Judge Korniss. “What are you thinking, interrupting court proceedings like this?”
“I have to, Your Honor. I have no other recourse. I saw the scar on the victim's foot myself. I asked Bary why the scar wasn't mentioned in the report made by the pathologist. His response was that I should mind my own business.”
“Is that true, Mr. Bary?” asked Judge Korniss.
Bary rose from his seat.
“Your Honor, the pathologist who examined the corpse did say that there was a faint scar at the base of the dead girl's toe. I didn't think this was significant-enough information to include in the report, so I told him to leave it out.”
“Well, you were wrong, sir!” roared the judge. “It's not your job to decide what's important and what's not. Mr. Szeyffert,” he said to the prosecutor, “you better confer with your clients about what other evidence they might have excluded from their records.”
“I will, Your Honor,” Szeyffert said. His heightened color betrayed his embarrassment. “I will make sure nothing like this will happen again!”
The judge nodded his head regally. “Continue with your cross-examination,” he said to Mr. Eotvos.
By now, my legs were cramping from sitting so long, but I forced myself to remain motionless.
“So, Julie,” said Mr. Eotvos. “Forgive me for repeating myself, but you are giving us very important information. You recognized the corpse the raftsmen fished out of the Tisza as being Esther. You testified that the clothes piled up on the ground beside the body were Esther's clothes, and you talked about the scar at the base of Esther's toe and the corpse's toe. Correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, think carefully before you answer me. What did the victim's neck look like?”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“What kind of mark did you see on the throat of the corpse fished out of the Tisza?”
Memories of what was left of that ravaged body brought bile to my mouth. I swallowed hard.
“There was nothing on Esther's throat, sir … not a single mark. And I could see her neck clearly because the poor girl was naked.”
“Do you mean to tell me there was no cut or scar on the throat of the corpse?”
Sadness overwhelmed me. Not only did my friend lose her life, she had even lost her name.
“Mr. Eotvos, could you please not refer to Esther as ‘the corpse’? She was a person. She was my friend. She had a name.”
Mr. Eotvos tapped his finger against his lips.
“You're right.” he said. “I would like to apologize and rephrase my question. Did you see any marks or cuts on the throat of your friend Esther Solymosi?”
“No, sir. There wasn't a single mark on Esther's throat,” I repeated.
I was conscious of the shuffling feet and stirring bodies around me.
“You're telling us, Julie Vamosi, that the victim, Esther Solymosi, had no cut or scar on her throat?” asked Mr. Eotvos.
“Yes, sir, that's exactly what I'm saying.”
“My clients,” said Mr. Eotvos, dramatically pointing to the prisoners' bench, “are accused of cutting the throat of Esther Solymosi and draining her blood into a pot. How could they have done this if there was no cut or scar on the girl's neck?”
“They couldn't have, sir.”
I kept my eyes on Mr. Eotvos so I sensed, rather than saw, several men scrambling to their feet and shaking their fists at me. I forced myself to look at them. As much as my swollen eyes and lips would allow, I tried to look dignified and defiant. “I do not believe the Jews killed her!”
I heard Judge Korniss's gavel just as Mr. Szeyffert jumped up from his seat.
“Your Honor, please instruct the witness to keep her opinions to herself!”
“Just answer what you're asked,” the judge told me.
Morris had not moved during the commotion. He sat with head hanging down and his hands tightly clasped together between his knees.
After several moments, with some help from the armed guards, the judge managed to restore order in the courtroom.
“I have just one more question for you,” Mr. Eotvos said. “You and Esther were friends for a long time, so you must have known her well.”
“Yes, sir. I did.”
“How was Esther feeling the last time you saw her? What was her mood like?”
My eyes burned with tears. How much should I tell him? Then I made up my mind. I would not sacrifice the living for the sake of the dead. Mr. Eotvos was entitled to know. “Forgive me,” I said to Esther before answering the lawyer.
“Esther and I always had a good time together. She was always ready for a lark, but she changed after she started to work for Mrs. Huri. She used to be like a songbird, singing all the time, but then she didn't sing anymore. She didn't even seem to care about the mean things that Mrs. Huri said, or about having to work every hour that the Good Lord sent. When I saw her that last time, on the day
she disappeared, she was miserable, cold, and hungry. I'm worried that she found her life so hard, too hard, that she might have. …”
I had to stop speaking because my unshed tears were choking me.
“What were you going to say?” asked Mr. Eotvos. “That Esther might do what?”
“Nothing, sir. I was just rambling on.”
I could not express what I feared the most, because sometimes when we say out loud what we fear, our fears become reality.
I had left Teresa to cook, serve, and clean up breakfast through much of the trial, and though she grumbled about it, I knew she was willing to do all the work in return for a daily first-hand update. But on Monday she was feeling poorly and I stayed to help her, over her loud and vulgar protestation. I didn't get to the courthouse until just after Mr. Szeyffert finished his summation of the case. The sweltering courtroom was half empty and I had no trouble finding a seat among the men. My eyes scanned the room anxiously for any sign of Pa before I remembered he was locked up. I let out a sigh of relief when I realized he wouldn't be able to hurt me again. Bary Peczely Recsky and Henter, looking limp in the heat, were sitting beside
each other. You can't hurt me either, I exulted. Once again, Morris had the front row to himself.
“Why is the courtroom so empty?” I asked a lad in simple country clothes next to me. “I would have thought it would be bursting at the seams on the day the lawyers give their final summations.” I wiped the sweat trickling off my brow with the edge of my apron. “Everybody must be staying at home because of the heat!”
“It's not that,” said the boy looking me over boldly from head to toe and bringing a blush to my cheeks. “After that lying Jew boy's testimony, people are saying that the murdering Jews will get off. Who wants to see that?”
A man in the row in front of us turned around.
“Don't be so sure of an acquittal, my friend!” he cried. “Everybody knows that the Jews killed that poor girl. I'll wager you that the Jews will hang at the end of a rope before long, just like they deserve!” He held up a shiny new coin.
“I'll bet you they won't!” It was one of the men who worked on Mr. Rosenberg's farm.
“The Crown will now call upon the defense for its summation,” announced Judge Korniss.
Mr. Eotvos stood up from the defense table. He seemed at ease and was smiling.
“Your Honors,” he said to the three judges, “as counselor for the defense, it is usually incumbent upon me to prove to the court the innocence of my clients. However, I do not have to do that in this case, for the facts here speak
for themselves and demonstrate that the defendants are not guilty.
“These defendants,” he continued, gesturing at the prisoners, “are accused of the ridiculous charge of ritual murder. This charge is based upon ignorance. One may have expected to see such foolishness in the Middle Ages, but it is shocking in our modern times. Investigating Magistrate Bary did not allow truth to stand in his way. He decided at the outset of this case that the accused were guilty and he twisted the truth to support his suppositions. The prosecution's case rests upon Investigating Magistrate Bary's imagination.”
Bary jumped up. “How dare you!”
Judge Korniss sounded impatient. “Sit down, Mr. Bary! I'll handle this!”
The courtroom was humming, except for Morris, who remained still as death.
“Be careful of what you say, Counselor! You are dangerously close to defamation of character!” bellowed Judge Korniss.
“I am sorry, Your Honor,” answered Mr. Eotvos. “I was carried away by the heat of the moment.”
“Continue, Mr. Eotvos,” said the judge, “but I would like to see more moderation, please.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Mr. Eotvos said, a half-smile on his lips. He faced the audience. “Ah, where were we …? Let's start at the beginning, when Esther Solymosi disappeared. After Esther disappeared, Morris Scharf was one of the suspects. When Mr. Bary realized that the prattle of five-year-old
Sam Scharf would not stand up in court, Morris suddenly became his star witness. Morris's testimony was full of inconsistencies and lies.”
Morris did not react to Mr. Eotvos's words. He was a statue, his hands clasped in his lap, his head lowered as if he was in prayer. The gentle rise and fall of his chest was the only sign he gave of being alive.
Mr. Eotvos paused for an instant before beginning to speak again.
“I would like to note here that Morris was separated from his family and indoctrinated against them and his fellow Jews. As a result, he suffers from moral blindness.”
He turned back to the judges.
“Your Honors, let me summarize for you Morris Scharf's claims.
“Morris stated that on the first of April, in the year of Our Lord 1882, between the hours of eleven o'clock in the morning and twelve noon, he was standing in front of the door of the synagogue in Tisza-Eszlar. He said that he was peeking through the keyhole of the lock located on the aforementioned door. He claims that he saw through the keyhole the ritual murder of Esther Solymosi by my clients, Schwarcz, Buxbaum, and Braun, after Herman Vollner led her into the synagogue.
“Please let the court note that when he was asked what part of the body of the victim defendant Braun was holding down while he was allegedly restraining the girl, he had difficulty answering this question.
“Also, when he was asked if the blood of the victim gushed out from her neck or was a mere trickle, he said the blood trickled out of the girl's neck, then changed his mind and replied that the blood gushed out of her neck like a geyser.
“Thirdly, Mrs. Stephen Csordas, who lives next door to the synagogue in Tisza-Eszlar, recounted the testimony she had given to the investigating magistrate. She is no longer certain that she had heard a child's voice coming from underground in the synagogue. She now believes that she may have heard “noises” coming from somewhere else in the evening, long after the alleged murder is supposed to have taken place.
“Furthermore, Mrs. Csordas is able to see the front entrance of the synagogue from her windows. She looked through her windows at the front door of the synagogue between eleven o'clock in the morning and twelve noon on April 1, 1882. This was the exact time and date that Morris Scharf maintains he was standing in front of the door leading into the synagogue and was peeking through the keyhole of the lock of that door. He claims that he saw the ritual murder of Esther Solymosi by my clients. Mrs. Csordas testified under oath that she did not see Morris Scharf standing in front of the synagogue door and looking through the keyhole at this time, on this date. She insists that Morris Scharf was not in front of the synagogue at this time, on this date, regardless of what he claims.
And finally, Morris Scharf's credibility was completely destroyed during the court's visit to the Tisza-Eszlar synagogue. I won't even speak of the location of the keyhole, that it was much closer to the ground than the witness had stated. However, I will speak of the witness's field of vision through the keyhole. As we have heard repeatedly, Morris Scharf stated that he looked through the keyhole of the lock on the synagogue door. As Your Honors yourselves have observed when you looked through the keyhole, all you could see was a dark corner of the passageway connecting the entrance of the synagogue to the sanctuary. You couldn't see the spot where Morris claimed the murder had taken place!
“It is self-evident, Your Honors,” continued Mr. Eotvos, “that the testimony of Morris Scharf should be disregarded!”
The judges stared back at Mr. Eotvos impassively. Morris kept his eyes on the floor.
I could hear people moving about to see better, but nobody spoke. The prisoners were nodding their heads. Mr. Scharf was weeping.
“Furthermore, I would like to remind Your Honors that the witness Morris Scharf claims to have observed the ritual murder of Esther Solymosi between eleven o'clock in the morning and twelve noon on April 1, 1882,” said Mr. Eotvos. “However, the victim's sister, Sophie Solymosi, stated unequivocally, under oath, that she saw her sister alive at one o'clock in the afternoon on that date. How could Esther
have been killed by my clients between the hours of eleven and noon as claimed by the witness for the prosecution and then rejoin the ranks of the living at one o'clock in the afternoon? The answer is simple — she couldn't have. Therefore, Morris's testimony has been proven to be false again!”
He looked around the courtroom. The hostility of the onlookers toward him was almost palpable.
“How much longer are you going to take, Counselor?” interrupted Judge Korniss. “You made your point already.”
“I must respectfully state, Your Honor, that I am entitled under our penal code to defend my clients to the best of my ability That is what I am doing,” said Mr. Eotvos in a pleasant voice.
Judge Korniss glared at him but didn't reply.
“Where were we …” said Mr. Eotvos. “Ah, yes, my proving my clients' innocence … and that brings us to the problem of the corpse of the young woman fished out of the Tisza River near the town of Csonkafuzes. Was this corpse the body of Esther Solymosi? Mr. Bary maintains that the Jews dressed the body of a strange girl in Esther Solymosi's clothes.”
He paced in front of the railing dividing the judges from the rest of the courtroom.
“I would like to prove to the court that the corpse was the body of Esther Solymosi,” he finally said. “First of all, Julie Vamosi, the victim's friend, recognized the dead girl as Esther Solymosi.”
I could feel people looking at me when he spoke my name. I sunk lower down in my seat and pretended I was invisible.
“We mustn't forget,” said Mr. Eotvos, “that the corpse fished out of the river was wearing the same clothing as Esther Solymosi the day she had disappeared.” He walked over to the defense table and picked up a thick sheaf of paper. “Although it was not revealed through witness testimony these court records state that there were two nails in the pocket of the victim's apron.” He waved the document in the air. “Court records also show Mrs. Csordas asked the victim to buy nails for her at Kohlmayer's. We have also established through witness testimony that the victim was clutching a container of blue powdered paint in her hand. Esther is known to have purchased paint of this color on the day she disappeared. There was also the matter of a large crescent-shaped scar at the base of the victim's right large toe. Interestingly no mention was made of this scar in any official reports.”
He turned toward the judges.
“Your Honors, it is evident that the defense has proven without any reasonable doubt that the corpse at Csonkafuzes was Esther Solymosi!”
Several people in the audience began to boo. Mr. Eotvos waited until they stopped.
“Mr. Bary does not want to admit that the Csonkafuzes corpse was Esther Solymosi because the throat of the
dead girl did not have a single blemish on it — not a cut, not a scar,” he said. “My clients are accused of cutting Esther Solymosi's throat. How could they have done so if there wasn't a single mark on it? The answer is simple — my clients did not cut Esther Solymosi's throat. My clients are innocent!”
Pandemonium broke out in the courtroom. Judge Korniss had abandoned his gavel and was shouting for order. Mr. Eotvos was the center of the storm. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, waiting for the noise to subside enough for him to be heard. When he began to speak, the courtroom fell silent.
“We must now consider the final question: if my clients did not kill Esther Solymosi, and we can see that they did not — who did?”
With measured steps, he walked over to the defense table and poured himself a glass of water. The courtroom was so quiet I could hear him swallow as he drained his glass. “We'll never know to a certainty what happened to Esther Solymosi, but may I suggest that perhaps the poor girl found her life under a demanding mistress so difficult she might have taken matters into her own hands?”
The only sound was Mrs. Solymosi's moan as Mr. Eotvos returned to his seat. For the first time since Mr. Eotvos began his summation, Morris raised his head. I couldn't stand to look at the agony in his face.
Judge Korniss stood up. “My esteemed colleagues and I will examine the facts of this case in chambers. We will
return a verdict as to the innocence or guilt of the defendants in due course. You may be sure that justice will be done.”
I was not so sure. By the expressions on the faces of the defendants, I could see that they shared my uncertainty.