Amerigo Bonasera
sat in New York Criminal Court Number 3 and waited for justice; vengeance on
the men who had so cruelly hurt his daughter, who had tried to dishonor her.
The judge, a
formidably heavy-featured man, rolled up the sleeves of his black robe as if to
physically chastise the two young men standing before the bench. His face was
cold with majestic contempt. But there was something false in all this that
Amerigo Bonasera sensed but did not yet understand.
"You acted like the worst kind of
degenerates," the judge said harshly. Yes, yes, thought Amerigo Bonasera.
Animals. Animals. The two young men, glossy hair crew cut, scrubbed
clean-cut faces composed into humble contrition, bowed their heads in
submission.
The judge went on. "You acted like wild
beasts in a jungle and you are fortunate you did not sexually molest that poor
girl or I'd put you behind bars for twenty years." The judge paused, his
eyes beneath impressively thick brows moved cautiously toward the pale-faced
Amerigo Bonasera, then lowered to a stack of probation reports before him. He
frowned and shrugged as if convinced against his own natural desire. He spoke
again.
"But because of your youth, your clean
records, because of your fine families, and because the law in its majesty does
not seek vengeance, I hereby sentence you to three years' confinement to the
penitentiary. Sentence to be suspended."