DECEMBER 1944
ON A COLD AFTERNOON in early December, Jacob returned to his apartment after his daily walk and turned on the radio to listen to the news. He wished he hadn’t. The Nazis had launched a massive surprise counterattack against the Allies near the border between Germany and Belgium. They had penetrated the Allied front with troops and Panzer divisions and artillery pieces, supported by V-1 and V-2 rockets. The Americans had sustained heavy casualties in the nearly round-the-clock fighting. Fresh, inexperienced troops were under heavy enemy gunfire, many for the first time. Bitterly cold temperatures, dwindling ammunition supplies, and knee-deep snow added to their misery. Ed Shaffer was likely in the middle of it all. The children would be terrified for his safety – and with good reason.
Jacob hauled himself to his feet when the doorbell rang. When he saw who it was, his heart stood still. The two police detectives with the Irish names had returned. Beyond them, a police car waited at the curb with the motor running.
“Yes?” Jacob asked.
“We need you to come to the police station with us, Mr. Mendel.”
“For what reason?”
“You are under arrest for arson.”
Jacob could only stare in disbelief. He felt a weight on his chest as if the two men were sitting on it. While he had seen them canvassing the streets from time to time, talking to his neighbors, Jacob thought that the rebbe had convinced them of his innocence.
“Why are you harassing me this way?” he asked.
“We’ve known all along you were guilty,” one of them said, “and now we have the evidence to prove it.”
“It was only a matter of time before you were caught,” the other detective added.
“But I had nothing to do with the fire.”
“Well, we have two witnesses who say that you did. They’ll testify that they saw you enter the synagogue through the back door carrying a paper bag, shortly before the fire started.”
“They are mistaken. Or else they are lying.”
“That’s up to a court to decide. The district attorney is filing charges against you. It will save everyone a lot of trouble, Mr. Mendel, if you simply confess.”
Jacob shook his head. “Confess to something that I did not do? I am telling you I did not start the fire.”
“In that case, you better hire a lawyer.”
Jacob had no money for a lawyer. He had given away nearly every cent he had to the War Refugee Board. His monthly pension check and this apartment building were all he had left. Would he have to mortgage it to clear his name?
“Let’s go,” one detective said, motioning to the car.
Jacob’s chest ached. “May I go inside first and get my overcoat? And there are some pills that I should bring with me.”
“Make it quick.”
The two men followed him inside, waiting impatiently while he called Rebbe Grunfeld. Jacob knew that he could not go through this ordeal alone. Now more than ever he needed a friend to stand alongside him. He quickly told the rebbe about the detectives.
“They say that I will need a lawyer, but I do not know of one.”
“I’ll call Abraham Stein from our congregation right away. We’ll meet you at the police station. Don’t worry, Yaacov. It isn’t good for you to worry.”
But how could he help worrying? Jacob fetched his pills and his overcoat. He locked the doors to his apartment and rode with the detectives to the station. Jacob had never been inside a police station in his life, and he found the noisy, confusing place intimidating. The two detectives made him sit down in a tiny gray room without any windows and began to interrogate him. One of the men stank of perspiration.
The next hour reminded Jacob of a scene from Hungary in the old days. One after the other the men badgered him with accusations and questions, telling him what he supposedly had done and demanding that he confess. It was the way that Jews had been treated for centuries. He might as well have remained in Hungary.
“I cannot confess because I am innocent,” Jacob repeated. “I did not start the fire.”
“Our two witnesses say you did. We’ve been talking to your neighbors all along, you know, keeping the crime fresh in people’s minds. And it finally paid off.”
“Whoever they are, they are not telling the truth.”
The room seemed to be running out of air as the men continued to attack him, trying to wear him down. The pain in Jacob’s chest grew worse. Finally he became so weary that he simply stopped talking. They weren’t listening to him anyway.
“Okay, if you refuse to cooperate, Mr. Mendel, then here’s what’s going to happen. We’re taking you downstairs to be fingerprinted, and then you’ll go into a holding cell until your arraignment. You’re entitled to have your lawyer with you for that.”
“Will I be spending the night in jail?”
“The judge will decide that when you are arraigned – but I wouldn’t count on going home, if I were you. Arson is a felony.”
By the time a policeman finished taking Jacob’s fingerprints, Rebbe Grunfeld had arrived with Abraham Stein. The lawyer listened to Jacob’s story and agreed that they would plead “innocent” at the arraignment. When it was their turn to stand before the judge, Mr. Stein asked that Jacob be released from custody due to his age and health considerations – and to the undue hardship that eating non-kosher food would create.
“The rabbi of the synagogue in question is willing to vouch for Mr. Mendel’s character, Your Honor. The defendant has no prior criminal history and strong ties to the community.”
The judge set bail at a moderate amount. Within a matter of minutes, Jacob’s arraignment was over. Once he posted bond, he would be free to go home. Somehow Rebbe Grunfeld managed to scrape up enough money for the bond. By the time Jacob stepped outside into a freezing December night, it had become dark.
“What happens now?” Jacob asked Mr. Stein.
“I’ll ask the district attorney for time to research your case and see how credible these two witnesses are. I’ll also need to find out what other evidence they have against you. Once I have all that information, you and I will meet to prepare your defense.”
“How much time until the case goes to trial?”
“The courts are short-staffed due to the war. And they usually recess for the holidays, too. We’re probably looking at sometime early next spring for a court date. Unless you want me to petition to have your case tried sooner? You have a right to a speedy trial with felony charges.”
“No, there is no hurry. I will need time to raise money, somehow. I need to pay you back, Rebbe, for posting bond.”
“Don’t worry about that for now, Yaacov.”
“And I must also pay you, Mr. Stein.”
“I won’t push for a speedy trial, then. In the meantime, Mr. Mendel, take care of yourself.”
Jacob took a taxi home. He didn’t sleep at all that night. Would the final years of his life be spent in jail? He had lost his wife and his son; now he might lose his home and his freedom. He thought about the story of Joseph, and how he also had been sent to prison for a crime he did not commit. Eventually, Hashem had turned Joseph’s trials into something good. But how could Hashem possibly bring anything good from this?