Gavriil sighs, and the movement of air causes pain in his chest. He looks at his hands that are lying on the surface of the table. They are white and trembling. The vision of these hands makes him feel insecure. It seems to the young man that the sword of Damocles that has been hanging above his head since childhood fell and split his scalp. Due to the unbearable despair evoked by this feeling, Gavriil sometimes allows himself to hope that he is in a nightmare and the detention center is a construct of his delirious imagination.
The advocate, a young woman Olga, renowned for her progressive views and extraordinary approach to building defence, asks him to set forth his version of the murder. Gavriil glances at the dictaphone placed between him and the lawyer and starts speaking in a hoarse cracking voice.
“Slava and I went fishing on the second day of that corporate party. It was an early morning. Everyone was sleeping. I wasn’t friends with him. He just told me that he knew how to fish. I have never tried to fish before, but I always dreamed of it. So, I asked him to teach me.”
“He was appointed the Arts Editor of News Express, wasn’t he? You were hoping to get that position before he got it, weren’t you?” Olga asks.
“Yes, that’s right,” Gavriil admits gloomily, “We sat on the shore. Started talking about journalism,” Gavriil makes a pause trying to decide if a deception is worth trying. He doubts that he can lie in a persuasive way. In the sepulchral silence of the room Gavriil hears his watch ticking. Eventually, he tells the truth, “he asked me if I knew why he was more successful than me. I said I didn’t. I felt completely calm. Then he told me about connections that he has in News Express. It turned out that his father-in-law is the Editor in Chief. I was shocked and hurt. Still, I was rather calm, if you know what I mean… I didn’t think about killing him… I told him it was dishonest, immoral. Then he sweared at me, using horrible, dirty words. Then I felt… an outrage… I grabbed my knife and stabbed him. I couldn’t control myself…” Gavriil closes his face with his sweaty hands, “but I swear it was not intentional… it wasn’t because of jealousy… I swear…”
“Well,” Olga makes a pause, waiting for Gavriil to open his face, “Your sentence might be mitigated if I succeed in proving that you were in an affect when you grabbed the knife. But for now, it is unconvincing. The facts can be interpreted as an intentional murder. The fact that you threw the body in the river meters away from where you were fishing proves it. It looks like the action was planned.”
“I was in an affect! I swear, I was!” Gavriil exclaims, looking at Olga with hope.
“Your word is not enough. We have to prove it.”
“How can you prove it?” a sinister smile appears on Gavriil’s face, “Even I don’t know myself. I never thought I could kill someone because of an insult…” Gavriil avoids Olga’s discerning eyes. He feels that his words are not true. There is something hiding in his past that makes it clear why he lost control over himself and committed the crime. However, his attempts at catching this reason are as futile as catching without a scoop-net a butterfly flittering in the air. When he sees in his memory Slava’s neck covered with blood and the knife stuck in it, he feels as if he was approaching the answer to the question ‘why’. However, the beam of his attention scatters akin to the fountain of blood that broke down into countless scarlet drops that stained Slava’s jacket. The answer slides away because a panic overwhelms Gavriil and he hopes he is in a nightmare and will soon wake up. He misses sitting in the cozy kitchen of his flat in the mornings, drinking hot coffee with milk and reading news. He has yet not acknowledged himself as a murderer.
“Repeat me the words Slava used,” Olga’s eyes light up, as if she found an answer to a riddle.
While Gavriil repeats the obscene words, his empty eyes are staring at his fingers locked together. Inner pain stings his innards, his mouth is snarling, his head is ducked.
“I can’t imagine someone murdering another person because of these words. The investigator did not appoint a forensic psychiatric examination because you seem to be normal. If my supporting facts are strong enough, the examination might be appointed,” Olga says, “Can you think of a reason why these words made you lose control over yourself?”
Gavriil sighs and puts his chin on clasped hands. Suddenly, he is struck by an inspiration. It seems that the beam of his attention directed by Olga’s hints has finally fallen on the long-hidden truth. He relives the fear mixed with panic that he experienced during those moments when his father beat him, and the hot bitter blood filled his mouth.
“I think… I lost control… because those words reminded of my father. He would get drunk and beat me when I was a child,” Gavrill matters what seems to be the truth in a shaking voice. He crosses his hands and stares at a crack on the table, while thinking How are these past events connected to the most recent? There’s no connection at all! 13 years have passed since I was adopted and last saw him.
Olga stands up and starts pacing back and forth.
“Do you know the address of your father?” Olga asks in an agitated tone of voice. Gavriil leans on the back of his chair.
“No,” he replies in a sharp manner, “I haven’t seen him for 13 years.”
“Okay,” Olga says, “Could you give me the addresses of the custody agency and your foster parents?”
“What is going on? Why do you need this information?” Gavriil asks with irritation. He is totally confused as to why his past suffering might be relevant now. Nevertheless, the intuition that the abuse is linked to the murder does not leave him.
“Your childhood trauma could have had a large impact on your psycho,” Olga replies.
“Hmm…” Gavriil is surprized and wants to know how his psychology could be affected. However, something clutches his throat. He is suddenly terrified by the prospect of getting undeniable facts that would prove his predisposition to murder. He is scared of the responsibility that such knowledge would put on his shoulders. Since I had problems with psychology, I had to visit a psychiatrist, Gavriil is thinking.
“Well, could you, please, provide the addresses?” Olga reminds about her request.
“Yes, of course,” Gavriil matters. He writes the addresses on a piece of paper and gives it to the advocate.
“Thank you,” Olga says, “See you tomorrow.”
***
Gavriil spends a horrible sleepless night. It is filled with ugly memories of the murder. The young man recalls Slava’s odious face distorted by a sardonic smile. Arrogant eyes of the new successful Arts Editor are still staring into Gavriil’s eyes. The derogative words are still sounding in Gavriil’s ears. The humiliation evoked an uncontrollable wave of outrage that paralyzed the will and locked consciousness and conscience in the prison from which they observed the sharp knife and its trajectory. Sometimes arrogant eyes alternate with widely open and unblinking eyes of the victim that make Gavriil shiver and wish he could put them out.
Mixed with awful visions are desperate attempts of Gavriil to prove himself that he has no responsibility for the crime. It was an affect. I couldn’t prevent it. However, when it already seems that the consciousness is persuaded, and the conscience has calmed down, the doubts arise: Are you sure? You’re avoiding the truth. Be honest with yourself. You’ve always been aggressive. You had to go to a psychiatrist. Gavriil recalls how once he nearly lost his job when he punched a director of an art gallery with whom he was conducting an interview because the man refused to answer a question.
Gavriil meets the new day with a resolution to face the truth. I can’t bear it any longer, he tells himself, it’s easier to live with guilt than with doubts.
In the beginning of the session, Olga gives a test tube to Gavriil and instructs him:
“I need you to fill it in with your saliva.”
“Why?” Gavriil asks.
“I need to get analysis of your DNA.”
“How will it prove that I was in an affect?” Gavriil asks in a trembling voice.
“People who have a low activity MAO-alpha gene behave in antisocial and violent ways if they experienced childhood abuse.”
Olga exits. Gavriil feels shocked. His brain refuses to work. In a blank state of mind Gavriil spits in the test tube.
When Olga returns after a while, she is accompanied by a nurse and a guard.
“Good afternoon,” the nurse says in a friendly manner.
Gavriil does not answer. He is confused.
“I also need you to provide blood for analysis,” Olga says.
Gavriil nods. The nurse opens her suitcase, takes a syringe, and pulls a blood sample from Gavriil’s vein. After the nurse and the guard leave, Gavriil asks:
“Why do you need the blood test?”
“High levels of testosterone are also associated with violence. It will be an additional prove that you were guided by your physiology, rather than your consciousness. Now we will take you to the hospital to get an MRI scan.”
“Why?” Gavriil asks, feeling hopeless.
“We need to check your amygdala. If it’s enlarged, it will also prove lack of conscious control in your actions,” Olga’s voice is cold and ruthless.
Gavriil’s head starts spinning.
“Do you suggest that a year ago I could know that I might commit a murder?” Gavriil exclaims eventually.
“Yes,” Olga replies in a well-modulated voice.
“If it’s so, then how in hell can it mitigate my sentence? All these are aggravating circumstances! I had to hire a psychiatrist or do whatever is possible to control the expression of my genes!” Gavriil shouts, “the judge will find me guilty of not taking preventative measures!” he hits the surface of the table with his fist.
“Calm down. You’re mistaken,” Olga objects, “our society does not provide opportunities for people to take preventative measures. It is the fault of the social structure. Not your fault. You’re lucky because you have a chance to contribute to the paradigm shift. Your case will raise awareness about the extent to which we lack agency. The more cases like yours will be investigated, the more our society will be forced to refocus from punishment to prevention.”
Gavriil remains silent. It seems to him that for many years he was desperately hiding from someone, and now he was given away to the pursuer who turned out to be his true self. He does not have enough courage to object.
For the next three weeks that Gavriil spends in the detention center waiting for court, his dejection gradually transforms into a depression. I hoped I could make a successful career as a journalist, but I always refused to acknowledge and face my childhood trauma, Gavriil is thinking in his solitude, if I searched for someone’s help, perhaps, I could prevent the murder. I have always felt the urge to avenge myself. I turned the blind eye to it. It was wrong. One can’t hide from oneself.
In the end of three weeks, Olga meets with her client to discuss the line of defence. Gavriil notices that her eyes are shining with pride despite of her attempts to look calm and indifferent.
“All results indicate on that fact that you had neurological and genetic predisposition to murder. The analysis of DNA, blood test, MRI scan will convince the investigator to appoint the forensic psychiatric examination for you. Even if he refuses, which is highly unlikely, I am sure the line of defence is impeccable. I am sure we will succeed in mitigating your sentence.”
Gavriil does not say anything. Depressive thoughts keep circulating in his mind, For you it’s another brilliant application of your new methods. You’re proud of turning the social paradigm upside down. You don’t care that I have to live with the burden of responsibility. I’m guilty for letting myself live among people while I was dangerous and misanthropic. I am a murderer!