“I believe he understands more than he understood in January.”
Kathleen smiled.
“That wasn’t my question.”
“You’ve worked with judges too long.”
“I’ve worked with lawyers even longer.”
“Terrible influence.”
Elijah waited almost three weeks before answering.
His reply was shorter.
Mr. Pike,
Thank you for writing. I do not expect people to become free of assumptions. I expect people entrusted with authority to build habits that prevent assumptions from becoming consequences before facts arrive.
Recognizing the difference matters. What you do with it next matters more.
E. Warren
Seven months after the incident, Pike asked for a meeting.
Elijah agreed.
Not chambers.
Not Courtroom Four.
They met inside a neutral courthouse conference room.
Pike arrived without a uniform.
Light-blue shirt.
Dark trousers.
Elijah wore another charcoal sweater.
Pike noticed immediately.
“You did that intentionally.”
Elijah looked down.
“The sweater?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe.”
Pike almost smiled.
They sat.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Pike said, “I’m sorry.”
Elijah nodded.
“I know.”
“The investigation didn’t officially call me racist.”
“No.”
“I spent a while thinking that should make me feel better.”
“Did it?”
Pike looked down.
“No.”
Elijah folded his hands.
Pike continued.
“I never walked into that courtroom thinking a Black man could not be a judge.”
Elijah nodded.
“I believe you.”
Pike looked surprised.
“That doesn’t mean race had nothing to do with what happened.”
The surprise disappeared.
“I know.”
“When you saw me, several explanations were available.”
Elijah counted on one hand.
“Judge.”
“Attorney.”
“Staff member.”
“Technician.”
“Authorized employee.”
Then the last.
“Unauthorized person.”
Pike nodded.
“I picked the last one.”
“Immediately.”
“Yes.”
“That decision came from somewhere.”
Pike rubbed both hands together.
“I don’t know whether I can explain exactly where.”
“You don’t need to produce a perfect psychological confession.”
Elijah leaned back.
“You need procedures stronger than your instinct when your instinct can put another person in restraints.”
Pike nodded.
“That I understand.”
“The danger wasn’t that you hated me.”
Pike looked up.
“The danger was that you were certain.”
Elijah paused.
“Certainty feels professional right until evidence proves it isn’t.”
Pike exhaled.
“That’s hard to hear.”
“It was harder from the chair.”
For the first time, Pike gave a small laugh.
“Fair.”
They talked forty minutes.
Not politics.
Not ideology.
Decision points.
What did Pike see?
What did he assume?