Addiction (24 page)
Authors: G. H. Ephron
I put my arm around Annie and pulled her close to me. “Soon,” I said. I put my face into her neck and inhaled.
“Soon what?” Annie asked, laughing.
“Soon”âI nipped her earlobeâ“it will be warm enough for me to get back to rowing. Turnabout is fair play. You tortured me. Now I get to torture you.”
“Mmm. Maybe.”
“Good. Doing anything for dinner?”
Annie put her arms around me. I could feel her breasts pressing against me. I ran my hands down into the small of her back.
“I have some bad news,” she said.
“You're not hungry? That's not such bad news,” I said.
“If only that were it. Actually, I'm ravenous. But it's Sundayâthat's the night patients from the Pearce usually go to AA.” I groaned. “Used to be anyway.”
I knew we couldn't afford to wait. “It's not fair,” I said, pulling Annie's hips into mine.
Annie looked up at me, her face golden in the setting sun. “Tell me about it.”
THE HEARING was on a blustery day. I watched Gloria and Olivia get into a taxi that would take them to the courthouse. Olivia seemed subdued. Under a navy pea coat and a plaid muffler, she had on a skirt and a white blouse that buttoned down the front. Her black hair with an inch of blond roots made an odd contrast to the schoolgirl outfit.
Kwan and I drove over together and parked. We ran into Daphne on our way to the courthouse. She was walking, full tilt into the wind, protecting her eyes with one hand from the bits of street sand being kicked up by gusts and holding a cigarette in the other. She took a puff and exhaled, looking like a determined steam locomotive pushing uphill.
By the time we got to the courthouse, Daphne's face was pink and her hair was in tangles. After we got through security, she excused herself and went to find the ladies room. Kwan and I went upstairs to the judge's chambers. Daphne joined us a few minutes later. I took an empty chair between Drew and Kwan. DA Montrose Sherman was there again with the assistant DA. At just two minutes past eleven, the hearing was under way.
“The doctors at the Pearce Psychiatric Institute have recommended
that Miss Temple continue her treatment there for another two weeks,” Chip said. Olivia was sitting at the table next to him. “She's been experiencing some serious side effects that have required the doctors to slow down the drug regimen she's been undergoing.”
that Miss Temple continue her treatment there for another two weeks,” Chip said. Olivia was sitting at the table next to him. “She's been experiencing some serious side effects that have required the doctors to slow down the drug regimen she's been undergoing.”
“More than the seizure she had during her arraignment?” the judge asked.
“Yes. Tremors. Parkinson's-like movement disorders.”
Sherman scowled. The assistant DA just leaned back and let his boss take over. “The Commonwealth has already agreed to a two-week delay for this experimental treatment. How do we know that after this extension, there won't be another, and then another? I'm sure I don't need to remind Mr. Ferguson of the seriousness of the charges facing his client.”
“And I'm sure I don't need to remind Mr. Sherman of the risks of prematurely terminating treatment,” Chip countered. “The Commonwealth loses nothing by a short delay. Dr. Liu is here and can explain the medical reasons.”
“Olivia Temple can get the treatment she needs in jail,” Sherman intoned. “With all due respect to the security procedures at the Pearce”âhe paused and tapped his pencil against his pad of paperâ“she presents a danger to the community and should be locked up. The e-mail messages she sent suggest planning, deliberation.”
“That's for the court to decide,” Chip countered.
The judge intervened. “We're all well aware that this is a hearing, not a trial.”
Chip said, “Those messages she sent to her mother were part of her therapy. That was ⦔
Sherman interrupted, “Miss Temple sends a message saying she wishes her mother was dead. The next day, her mother is killed. That's not therapy. That's premeditated murder.”
“I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Sherman,” the judge said. “I think I'd be remiss if I allowed her to stay at the Pearce. Especially with this second murder.”
“E-mail therapy,” Sherman sneered.
Drew was starting to rise out of his seat. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he sank back.
“Your Honor, Ms. Temple is not accused of committing a second murder,” Chip said. “Her psychiatrist, Dr. Smythe-Gooding, is here. She can explain the e-mail messages. She can also give her professional opinion as to whether or not Ms. Temple presents a danger to society.”
Sherman gave Chip a surprised look. Then he gazed at me without blinking. I tried to keep my expression even, but I could feel my face grow hot. The last time we'd met in court, Sherman was supposedly cross-examining me regarding the memory of a victim who'd suffered traumatic brain damage from a gunshot wound to the head, but he'd laced his questions with subtle innuendo about my wife's murder. He'd baited me, and I'd nearly snapped. I knew lawyers played down and dirty, but Sherman could do it without creating even a ripple of suspicion.
“Mr. Sherman?” the judge said.
“I have no objection.”
All eyes turned to Daphne. She looked like someone who was about to give a speech and was unprepared.
She was sworn in. Chip asked her to identify herself and walked her through her credentials. Then, “Doctor, would you please tell the court, what is your relationship to Miss Temple?”
“For the past year ⦔ Daphne cleared her throat. “For the last year, Olivia Temple has been my patient. She's been in therapy.”
“What were you treating her for?”
“She was having difficulty concentrating in school. Problems at home.” These answers came with polish and authority.
“And what was your treatment?”
“I, uh ⦔ Daphne shifted in her seat. Chip waited. Daphne glanced quickly at Olivia and back at Chip. “I gave her Ritalin”âI didn't like the uncertainty in her voiceâ“to help her focus.” She sounded as if she were picking her words carefully. Sherman leaned forward to write on a yellow legal pad. Then he leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Chip said. “And was it part of your therapeutic approach to have Olivia Temple write down her feelings about her mother?”
“I object,” Sherman barked. “Leading question.”
Chip looked surprised. Hearings for juvenile offenders tended to be a bit more relaxed than for adults. “I'll rephrase. What was your therapeutic approach?”
“We met once a week. Talked. And I had her do some writing.”
“What kind of writing.”
“It's based on a technique called countertransference analysis.” Now the self-assurance returned. Daphne gestured with both hands. “Writing down unsettling thoughts and feelings helps people regain a healthy perspective. It's an approach I developed to help therapists ⦔ She caught Chip's look and stopped.
It reminded me of the many times Chip had prepped me to testify. He always ended with the warning, “Just answer the questions, Peter. Elaborate, and you may be giving the DA rope to hang us with.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Chip said. “In your opinion, does writing down a feeling indicate that the person is going to act on that feeling?”
“Mr. Ferguson is leading the witness,” Monty said. “Again.”
“Mr. Ferguson ⦔ the judge started.
“I'll rephrase,” Chip said, sounding annoyed. “Is there a relationship between what people write and how they act?”
“We think about doing all kinds of things we would never, ever actually do,” Daphne answered.
“Do you recognize this piece of writing?” Chip asked, offering Daphne a printed page.
She glanced over it. “It's one of the letters Olivia Temple wrote to her mother,” Daphne said. There was a pause. Chip leaned toward Daphne. She seemed momentarily flustered. She added quickly, “As part of her therapy.”
Chip sat back. “Olivia Temple wrote that she wished her mother was dead. Is it your opinion that Olivia Temple was planning to hurt her mother.”
There was no hesitation. “Absolutely not.”
“And was it part of the therapy to put her thoughts and feelings into e-mail messages and send them to her mother?”
“I object,” Sherman barked again. He wasn't going to make this easy.
“Sustained,” the judge said.
Chip sighed. “And did you have Ms. Temple do anything with this message that she wrote to her mother?”
Daphne said, “I had her show the message to her mother. Olivia used e-mail to do so. Her mother was herself experienced with CTA. I felt it would be beneficial to them both.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Daphne sank back, evidently relieved.
Sherman said, “Excuse me, Doctor. I have just a few questions.” Daphne looked startled. “You said you gave Ms. Temple Ritalin. When you give medication to a patient, Doctor, do you typically write a prescription?”
“Do I write a ⦠well, of course I do.”
“And so, when the patient gets the prescription filled, there's a record that the pharmacy keeps. If insurance is involved, they are notified.”
“I would assume so.”
“Then perhaps you can explain to me how you prescribed Ritalin for Miss Temple when none of the pharmacies in the Commonwealth have any record of one having been filled?”
Daphne pulled back, blinked. “Well, that's becauseâ”
Olivia strained forward in her seat.
“Did you or did you not, write a prescription for Miss Temple?” There was a pause. “I'm sure I don't need to remind you that you are under oath.”
Daphne glared at Sherman. “When a patient is starting a new therapy, psychiatrists often supply them with sample packages to get started. To give it a try before we write a prescription.”
“Did you, or did you not
prescribe
Ritalin for Miss Temple?” Sherman asked again.
prescribe
Ritalin for Miss Temple?” Sherman asked again.
“If you mean, did I write a prescription, the answer is no. But she was taking it under my guidance.” Daphne's voice was icy with disdain.
“For how long, Doctor?”
“Four, maybe five months. I'd have to check my notes to be certain.”
“Is that an unusually long time for someone to be taking sample packets of medication?”
“No. It's not unusual.”
“Hmm,” Sherman said. “And about four months ago, do you recall reporting to hospital security that your office had been broken into and medication stolen?” Sherman held out a piece of paper. “One of the drugs missing was Ritalin.”
“I don't see what that has to do withâ” Daphne started.
“Did you file this report?” Sherman offered her the piece of paper.
Reluctantly, Daphne took it. She eyed what looked like a photocopy of a form. “Yes. Apparently, I did.” She handed the paper back to Sherman.
“Thank you, Doctor. I have just a few more questions. Just a few nights ago, did you file a report to security that drugs were once again missing from your office?”
Her answer was inaudible.
“Could you speak up, please?”
“Yes,” Daphne said. “Yes I did. But how was I supposed to know that Olivia was out and aboutâ” Daphne's mouth snapped shut. She looked stunned. It reminded me of how Sherman had ambushed me the last time he'd cross-examined me.
“Exactly,” Sherman said. “How were you supposed to know that Olivia Temple had escaped from a supposedly secure unit that same evening and was roaming freely among the hospital buildingsâa night when, coincidentally, another doctor was killed.” He paused for effect. “Just one more thing, Doctor. Did you, or did you not,
prescribe
a course of therapy in which Miss Temple was to send electronic messages to her mother.”
prescribe
a course of therapy in which Miss Temple was to send electronic messages to her mother.”
Daphne drew herself up. “Of course, that's part of the approach.”
“And it's a part you specifically prescribed, as opposed to being something that your patient did on her own, just like she helped herself to Ritalin ⦠.”
“Objection!” Chip said. “Mr. Sherman is using suggestion and innuendo ⦠.”
The judge cut him off. “I think I've heard all I need to. I'm denying the motion.”
“But Ms. Temple needs medical treatment that she can only get at the Pearce,” Chip argued.
“Mr. Ferguson, you are trying the patience of this court,” the judge said. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “There is nothing to distinguish your request, other than the fact that Ms. Temple comes from a privileged home. The setting she's in has been demonstrated to be insufficiently secure. And I have to agree with Mr. Sherman. This is a murder case, and there is evidence that the defendant may be dangerous, even a flight risk. I will give the doctors at Pearce until Friday to terminate their treatment, at which point Ms. Temple will be taken to the Bechtel Center for Girls. This hearing is over.”
Sherman and his colleague left. I stood and waited for Chip to finish packing up his papers. Drew had his arm around Olivia. We all filed out.
In the hall, Chip muttered under his breath, “Holy shit. Two days.”
Olivia was agitated. “Lying bitch. Lying bitch ⦔ She said it over and over, as if she were turning the key in her own ignition, again and again.
Daphne came over to her. “Livvy ⦔
Olivia hunched her shoulders and blew air outâit was like the hiss of a feral cat. “My mother never should have trusted you.”
“Livvy, you don't know what you're saying! I was under oath ⦠.”
“Doctor Smythe-Gooding,” Chip said sharply. “I wonder if you have a few minutes to meet? There's a conference room just across the hall that we can use.”
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