“Okay. I have to admit it isn’t too clear who did it,” the judge said, and sat down on the couch. Yanai held his chest in disbelief, while Bejo shot him a murderous glare. Sakal picked up the megaphone again and turned up the volume.

“Due to these recent findings, I have no choice but to issue a new verdict,” he announced, then paused for a moment. “The four of them will get their ass whooped, and we’ll make it a full minute, so no one will feel left out.”

“But you don’t know who did it!” Korczak screamed.

“That’s right,” Sakal replied with a triumphant smile. “You may be some kind of genius but you still couldn’t figure out that it never mattered.”

Korczak’s cry was swallowed up by the seniors’ whistles and cheers. Before I managed to understand how I had turned into one of the defendants, Bejo and the other seniors were charging at us. Yanai pushed me back, trying to protect me. It didn’t really help. I felt the first punch land above my stomach, in the lower rib. I tried raising my hands to shield my head, but I couldn’t. The punches intensified.

I’m not sure how long it lasted. Probably not that long.

7.

I DIDN’T SEE him snatch the gun. But there was Korczak, standing with his back to me, holding a short-barrel M16 inches from Bejo’s forehead. Two other soldiers drew their weapons at Korczak, and the room became as still as if we were all playing red light, green light.

At least four guys were yelling at Korczak to drop the weapon. He didn’t respond.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Bejo said.

“I really don’t know,” he replied, and something about the uncertainty of his answer was more unnerving than an explicit threat.

Bejo closed his eyes. “You’re fucking crazy,” he said. His balding forehead gleamed with beads of sweat.

“I think you’re overreacting a bit, don’t you?” Sakal called out in a calm, almost cordial tone. He was sitting alone on the couch, seemingly indifferent to the situation. “It’s a shame, we were having such a nice time.”

Korczak kept aiming his weapon at Bejo, shifting his gaze toward the judge on the couch.

“Let them go.”

Sakal got up and walked toward the door.

“No problem,” he replied. “I’ll let everyone out of here, just calm down and drop your weapon. It’s all good.”

Korczak must have felt that Sakal’s instant surrender was suspicious, because he drew the barrel even closer to Bejo’s head. Then he looked at the four of us and nodded toward the door, signaling us to get out.

None of us moved.

“It’s all good, guys,” Sakal said while opening the door. “Go, don’t worry about it, it’s all good.”