翻譯 （五十一）：消失的過去/茱迪皮考特 Vanishing Acts/Jodi Picoult
第二天早上九點，我和迪莉婭在韋克斯頓地方法院靠近辯護席旁的座位坐下。它是公設辯護律師和像我這樣的僱傭者的輪換場所，每當法官提出一個新的案件時，就會有一個新的人坐在上面暖椅。提審是一種橡皮圖章式的程式，在被告被帶進來後，檢察官作為被告在一大箱檔案裡逐案翻查。我們看到一個女人因為偷了凱馬特的烤麵包機而被傳訊，一個男人因為違反限制令而被帶進來。第三個被告，我認識的一個在鎮上賣熱狗的小販，因重罪性侵犯未成年人而被逮捕。
它提醒我，這個世界上有人做過比安德魯·霍普金斯更壞的事情。
“你認識檢察官嗎？”迪莉婭低聲道。
內德·弗洛裡茨是我昨天戒酒互助會的負責人，但正在康復的酗酒者總是在相互保守彼此的秘密。”我在周圍見過他，”我說。
當我們的案件被傳喚時，安德魯穿著一件亮橙色的連身褲被帶了進來，衣服的背面寫著格拉夫頓縣懲戒所。他的手和腿都被銬著。
在我身邊，迪莉婭倒吸了一口涼氣；畢竟，她父親的監禁對她來說還是很陌生的。我站起來，扣上我的夾克上的扣子，提著我的公文包走到辯護桌旁。安德魯的眼睛在計數室裡轉來轉去。”迪莉婭！”他大叫一聲，她站了起來。
“先生，”法警說，“請面向前面。”
我能感覺到我的額頭冒出汗來。我以前也上過法庭，但不是為了這麼重大的案子。沒有為這種案子的結果與我有重大關係的案件出過庭。
在我旁邊，安德魯碰了碰我的胳膊。”讓他們把鎖鏈取下路。我不想讓她看到我這樣子。”
“這是法庭上的囚犯政策，”我回答說：“我對此無能為力。”
At nine o‘clock the next morning， Delia and I take a seat close to the defense table at the Wexton District Court。 It is a rotating habitat for public defenders and hired guns like myself， a new one warming the chair each time the judge calls for a new case。 Arraignments are a rubber-stamp process， the prosecutor riffling through a big box of files as defendant after defendant is brought in。 We watch a woman get arraigned for stealing a toaster oven from Kmart， a man brought in for violating a restraining order。 A third defendant， one I recognize as a hot dog stand vendor in town， has been arrested for felonious sexual assault of a minor。
It reminds me that there are people in this world who have done worse things than Andrew Hopkins。
“ Do you know the prosecutor？” Delia whispers。
Ned Floritz was the leader of my AA meeting yesterday， but recovering alcoholics are always in the business of keeping one another’s secrets。 “ I‘ve seen him around，” I say。
When our case is called， Andrew is brought in wearing a bright orange jumpsuit that says GRAFTON COUNTY DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS on the back。 His hands and legs are shackled。
Beside me， Delia gasps； her father’s incarceration is， after all， still new to her。 I stand up and button my jacket， carrying my brief case down to the defense table。 Andrew‘s eyes roam the count-room。 “ Delia！” he yells out， and she stands up。
“ Sir，” the bailiff says， “ please face front。”
I can feel sweat breaking out on my forehead。 I have been in court before， but not for a case of this magnitude。 Not for a case where I have a personal stake in the outcome。
Beside me， Andrew touches my arm。 “ make them take the chains off。 I don’t want her to see me like this。”
“ It‘s inmate policy in the courtroom，” I answer。 “ I can’t do anything about it。”
