GAIL DRAKE: ‘I demand to know my accuser’

“It is not the custom of the Romans to deliver any man up to die before the accused has met his accusers face to face and has been given a chance to defend himself against the charges.” Acts 25:16

One of my favorite novels is “The Count of Monte Cristo,” a French adventure classic penned by Alexandre Dumas in 1846. The sweeping story of justice, revenge, mercy and hope is set in southern France during historical events. The story opens on the day French emperor Napoleon left his first island of exile in 1815 and attempted to return to power.

Nineteen-year-old Edmond Dantès, first mate on a merchant ship, sails into Marseille. His captain had charged him on his deathbed to deliver a package and a letter, written by Napoleon to a Noirtier in Paris. His crewmate, Danglars, becomes jealous when the ship owner promoted Dantès to captain.

Dantès reunites with his fiancée, Mercedes, and prepares for their wedding. The night before the wedding, crew member Danglars meets with Mercedes’ cousin, Fernand Mondego, a romantic rival. Together they concoct a plan to anonymously accuse Dantès of being a Bonapartist (supporter of Bonapart).

At his wedding, Dantès is arrested for treason. The prosecutor in Marseille, Villefort, is the son of Noirtier (an actual Bonapartist). Villefort realizes that his own career would be ruined by the letter to his father, so he destroys the letter. He sentenced Dantès to life imprisonment — based on anonymous “ex-parte” affidavits (by Danglars and Mondego), without identifying the criminal charges or the witnesses and without a trial. The prison warden doesn’t bother to learn his name but calls him “Number 34.”

After six years of solitary confinement at Chateau d’If (a prison island off Marseille), Dantès is on the verge of suicide. Suddenly he hears scaping noises in the prison wall. He digs at the wall, a large block starts to move, and when he pulls it out, he sees a human face. Abbè Faria, an Italian scholar priest, had been digging an escape tunnel, made a wrong turn, and dug into Dantes’ cell.

Overjoyed with human contact, Dantès befriends the priest. Faria had been falsely imprisoned, too – for being against Bonapart years earlier. Over the next eight years, Faria educates Dantès in languages, history, culture, math and medicine. During their long visits, Faria helps Dantès identify his accusers and their motives. Knowing he is dying, Faria tells Dantès about a large treasure hidden on the island of Monte Cristo, and grants him his treasure.

When Faria dies, Dantès sews himself into the burial sack and is thrown into the sea by guards. In one of literature’s most dramatic prison breaks, Dantès cuts himself out of the burial sack, swims to a nearby island, and takes on a new identity.

Author Dumas wrote that his novel was based on the true story of a French shoemaker Pierre Picaud, who was likewise imprisoned by the false accusations of three jealous friends on the eve of his marriage and later sought revenge.

We Americans have long enjoyed certain guaranteed constitutional rights, so it’s hard to imagine being imprisoned without a notice of the accusation, or a trial, or a chance to confront the witnesses. But this legal right did not exist in earlier times. The most notorious case was the trial of English explorer Sir Walter Raliegh, who was tried for treason in 1603. He was convicted despite “the Crown’s primary evidence … the confession of an alleged co-conspirator … [that] was repudiated before trial and probably had been obtained by torture.”

“In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right … to be confronted with the witnesses against him.” Eighteen words. But 18 consequential words, embedded in the Sixth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. The “Confrontation Clause” has its roots in ancient Roman law and English common law and is fiercely protected. It safeguards the right of the criminal defendant to look his accusers in the eye and to cross-examine them in court before a jury to test their reliability.

Prior statements of a witness cannot be presented in a criminal trial unless that witness is present to testify. These rights work to protect an innocent person from the wrongful whims of others — or AI.

Let us celebrate our freedoms enshrined in our U.S. Constitution.

Gail Drake practice probate, adoption, mediation and children’s law in Albany. She is a frequent contributor to The Albany Herald.