only by a letter. ‘X testified that …; B felt …’ and so on. If she came across anything that might indicate a mistrial, she would have to speak to some of them. Although some time had elapsed since the fire, there was a slim chance one of them might remember something – some small detail that hadn’t seemed important at the time but that could now help prove Jakob’s innocence.
Thóra found it hard to make sense of Jakob’s testimony, both in court and in the countless interrogations he’d endured. She had never read a testimony that was so garbled and confused. It read more like the words of a child, which in a way was not far from the truth. Jakob’s intellectual maturity was completely at odds with his physical age. She found a reference to his IQ, which turned out to be just under 50 , though all that meant to Thóra was that he would have been classed as an ‘imbecile’ in 1967 . It was an ugly word, but useful in helping her recall what she had read about IQs; 100 was the average, which meant technically Jakob had half an intellect, whatever that meant. She made another note, this time to remind herself to find out what that score of 48 signified. Did he have a mental age of five? Or two, or twelve? Was it even possible to make such a comparison? If she could put Jakob into a familiar context, it might help her understand his behaviour.
Jakob had given several conflicting accounts of his movements that night. His explanation for not having been found at the scene seemed to change with each interrogation: he had been on his way to see his mother; he was hungry and wanted to buy ice cream; he didn’t remember anything; he’d been scared, but he hadn’t been fleeing the scene. He had no explanation for why his fingerprints had been found on the petrol can, but since doubts were quickly raised as to whether he understood the question, the can was produced and shown to Jakob. His response was immediate and violent; he screwed his eyes shut and refused to open them until the can was taken away. This had only served to add weight to the case against him, as it seemed the can reminded him of what he’d done. But Thóra wasn’t sure this held water. If he’d had nothing to do with the fire, the can could still have frightened him because it was connected with the fire. Perhaps he had even seen someone else starting it. That could also explain why he had reeked of petrol; he may have fled the scene after it was poured on the floor. It was a long shot, especially given that Jakob himself had at no point claimed this to be the case. He’d have no reason to keep quiet about it … unless he was afraid of the guilty party? Thóra smiled to herself. She was speculating too much; it was far more likely that Jakob was unable to distinguish between reality and fantasy when he was stressed.
Thóra put down the court ruling and pulled the ‘yes’ pile closer. Flipping through it, she chose another document at random. Time passed as she went through the whole stack, but she felt no closer to determining Jakob’s guilt or innocence. She replaced the final document on the pile and reached for the notes she’d scribbled down. Irritated that her efforts had borne no fruit, she sighed heavily as she skimmed back through her notes. Who would do something like this? If Jakob was innocent someone else was guilty, and that person might be impossible to track down. The act bore all the hallmarks of psychosis; what else could make someone murder five people who had done no one any harm? It was possible the arsonist had specifically targeted the night watchman, but surely there would have been a simpler way to kill just one man?
Thóra stared at the names of the four young residents who had died. Next to each she had jotted down what she’d learned about their disabilities. She had hoped to determine whether one of them could possibly have started the fire but been trapped inside by accident, or even have wanted to die.
Thóra found it hard to make sense of Jakob’s testimony, both in court and in the countless interrogations he’d endured. She had never read a testimony that was so garbled and confused. It read more like the words of a child, which in a way was not far from the truth. Jakob’s intellectual maturity was completely at odds with his physical age. She found a reference to his IQ, which turned out to be just under 50 , though all that meant to Thóra was that he would have been classed as an ‘imbecile’ in 1967 . It was an ugly word, but useful in helping her recall what she had read about IQs; 100 was the average, which meant technically Jakob had half an intellect, whatever that meant. She made another note, this time to remind herself to find out what that score of 48 signified. Did he have a mental age of five? Or two, or twelve? Was it even possible to make such a comparison? If she could put Jakob into a familiar context, it might help her understand his behaviour.
Jakob had given several conflicting accounts of his movements that night. His explanation for not having been found at the scene seemed to change with each interrogation: he had been on his way to see his mother; he was hungry and wanted to buy ice cream; he didn’t remember anything; he’d been scared, but he hadn’t been fleeing the scene. He had no explanation for why his fingerprints had been found on the petrol can, but since doubts were quickly raised as to whether he understood the question, the can was produced and shown to Jakob. His response was immediate and violent; he screwed his eyes shut and refused to open them until the can was taken away. This had only served to add weight to the case against him, as it seemed the can reminded him of what he’d done. But Thóra wasn’t sure this held water. If he’d had nothing to do with the fire, the can could still have frightened him because it was connected with the fire. Perhaps he had even seen someone else starting it. That could also explain why he had reeked of petrol; he may have fled the scene after it was poured on the floor. It was a long shot, especially given that Jakob himself had at no point claimed this to be the case. He’d have no reason to keep quiet about it … unless he was afraid of the guilty party? Thóra smiled to herself. She was speculating too much; it was far more likely that Jakob was unable to distinguish between reality and fantasy when he was stressed.
Thóra put down the court ruling and pulled the ‘yes’ pile closer. Flipping through it, she chose another document at random. Time passed as she went through the whole stack, but she felt no closer to determining Jakob’s guilt or innocence. She replaced the final document on the pile and reached for the notes she’d scribbled down. Irritated that her efforts had borne no fruit, she sighed heavily as she skimmed back through her notes. Who would do something like this? If Jakob was innocent someone else was guilty, and that person might be impossible to track down. The act bore all the hallmarks of psychosis; what else could make someone murder five people who had done no one any harm? It was possible the arsonist had specifically targeted the night watchman, but surely there would have been a simpler way to kill just one man?
Thóra stared at the names of the four young residents who had died. Next to each she had jotted down what she’d learned about their disabilities. She had hoped to determine whether one of them could possibly have started the fire but been trapped inside by accident, or even have wanted to die.
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