“You will have to discuss that with the procurator, sir. My jurisdiction in that matter ended at the gates of Antonia.”

“Why can’t you tell me? Jesus was your prisoner when he was taken to Pilate. Didn’t you expect him to remain in your custody until the execution?”

“I did. As soon as we had Pilate’s sanction, Jesus was to be taken to a hill outside the city’s walls, stoned until dead, and his body thrown in a pauper’s grave.”

“But Jesus was never remanded to you. Why?”

“I have no comment on what transpired at the fortress. You will have to seek your explanation from Pilate.”

I tried again. “According to what you have told me, Pilate had already agreed, even before you had Jesus under arrest, that he would grant permission for you to execute your prisoner. What made him change his mind and do it himself?”

He shook his head but said nothing. I walked toward him until I was almost leaning over his bench.

“Caiaphas, during my stay here in the city, I have met and talked with several men of wisdom, knowledgeable in your laws. Some of them have confided in me, secretly because they fear for their safety, that the entire action against Jesus was illegal and broke many laws of the sacred codes that you, as high priest, are sworn to observe and enforce. Some even go so far as to accuse you and the Sanhedrin of the murder of an innocent man and say that Pilate was merely the instrument of his death.”

“Murder? Me? Illegal? Who would dare utter such vile untruths about their high priest?” he gasped.

“Are you so withdrawn from your people, here in your palace and the Temple suites, that you have never heard these accusations? Has not anyone close to you, responsible for keeping you informed of the moods of your people, ever dared to recite, in your presence, all the illegalities you are suspected of having committed that night and early morning in order to do away with Jesus?”

“No one here would have the courage or audacity to speak to me as you are doing,” he mumbled, holding both hands against his blood-drained cheeks. “You tell me. I demand to know. What are they saying about me?”

Authenticity in points of law has always been a proud hallmark of my detective mysteries, and I had spent long hours researching the ancient Hebrew codes of criminal law while working on “The Christ Commission,” with growing awe and respect for their fairness and thoroughness. Of one thing I had become certain, despite my doubts about Jesus. If the versions of that nighttime trial, as told in the New Testament, were accurate, a terrible miscarriage of justice had taken place in this very room. Since Caiaphas’ account had not differed to any extent from the Gospels, I decided it was time to unload on him.