The Insanity Plea (29 page)

When Parke’s cell phone alarm
awakened him at five-thirty, he donned running shorts, a tee shirt with
Galveston
emblazoned across the front
and well-worn running shoes. He paused in front of the Tremont House to stretch
for ten minutes and started off north on Ship’s Mechanic Row, the historical
name of the street fronting the hotel. After a few blocks, he turned right and
in another block found himself on Strand, the street for which the historical district
was named. Settling into an eight minute stride, he passed buildings from the
turn of the twentieth century, once stores selling their wares to seafarers,
now converted to curio shops, hamburger joints, restaurants, bars and a couple
of tattoo parlors. Glancing down a side street he could see two cruise ships
that had docked during the night with fork lifts already unloading giant
containers of luggage.
      
Leaving the
old district, he found himself in the medical center. Criss-crossing the medical
center streets he noted the medical school where he had lectured on a number of
occasions. When he passed John Sealy hospital, Parke reminded himself that
Debbie Robinson had worked there in the operating room. On 8th Street he followed
Debbie’s route to the seawall and was soon across from the Galvez Hotel where
he stopped and studied the crime scene as if searching for some long lost clue.
In fact he was re-living the morning of the murder. He reevaluated his decision
to volunteer as an expert in this case. At the time he killed Debbie, she was
one of the early ones. He knew it was rare that a stranger would be charged
with the death of a serial killer’s victim. It was even rarer that the insanity
defense would arise in such a case. The stars were in alignment. While he did
not expect anyone to connect his far-flung crime spree, a conviction of someone
else for one of his early killings could confuse the FBI. He saw it as a chance
to divert focus from himself now that they had established The Runner’s
involvement. He wasn’t worried about being caught, not by anyone, but he wanted
this conviction. He resumed his run as he relived the rest of that morning,
including his lecture at UTMB, remembering that he had to stop by a drug store
for some makeup to cover the scratch Debbie had put on his cheek with the key
in her struggle for life.
 

A little over an hour later he had
returned to his room, ordered fruit, a bagel and coffee from room service,
stripped and stepped into the shower. While he was still shaving, a knock at
the door announced his breakfast. Dressed in a hotel robe, he admitted the
bellman, signed the check and sat in the living area of the suite. A
Houston Chronicle
and
Galveston County Daily
News
came with his breakfast. Both
papers had front page stories about the trial. Walter Robinson was quoted in
the Chronicle as saying that the State had put on an airtight case and he
expected a quick conviction.

Dressed in tan slacks, Cordovan
loafers, a brown tweed jacket and a brown and yellow patterned tie, he dug
through his briefcase until he found his glasses. This would be the first
morning that the jury would see him. While they might not yet know who he was as
he sat in the audience, within a day or so, they would know he was star of the
show. He checked out his appearance in the full length mirror on the bathroom
door and concluded that he looked the part he intended to play.

Leaving the hotel for the second
time, he found the small city was coming to life. Shopkeepers were sweeping the
fronts of their stores; early morning tourists were looking for breakfast; the
trolley that ran from The Strand to the beach was picking up passengers who
were eager to catch the first rays of the morning sun. Dr. Parke elected to
walk the few blocks to the courthouse. The more local flavor he could absorb,
the better he could convince a jury that he understood their culture and
appreciated it.

Entering the courtroom, he saw a
scene he had witnessed hundreds of times: the bailiff reading the morning
paper, the court reporter setting up her equipment, a few bored reporters
drifting in and finding seats, lawyers getting evidence and exhibits ready for
the day. He glanced at a door leaning against the back wall and wondered about
it. Robinson hadn’t mentioned it. Wait a minute. Don’t I know that tall, black
haired lawyer? Yes, he’s the one who deposed me in Vail a few months ago. What’s
he doing here? As he was studying the lawyers, Walter Robinson touched his arm
to announce his appearance. Dr. Parke motioned to Robinson to follow him out
into the hallway where they found a place to talk at the far end.

“Mr. Robinson, who’s that young
lawyer for the defense?” Parke asked. “He deposed me not too long ago in Vail.”

“Assumed you knew. He’s Wayne Little,
Dan Little’s brother. He’s lead counsel. The other guy is Duke Romack. From
what I’ve seen, they’re a helluva defense team. We’ve got them on the ropes,
but they’re damn fine lawyers.”

“Interesting,” Parke mused. “I don’t
recall Little ever telling me his last name.” Parke glanced down the hall where
he saw Rita exiting the elevator. “And, I’ll be damned. That gorgeous Hispanic
lady was in my house, too. Name’s Rita as I recall. Found her nosing around my
library.”

Robinson turned to watch Rita enter
the courtroom. “Yeah, she’s part of the defense team. She doesn’t really work
for any of the lawyers. I checked her out. She lives next door to Wayne Little
and is into computers somehow. I’m not sure what her role is, but she’s here
every day. They’re all staying with Wayne’s mother in a big old Victorian house
a couple of blocks from here.”

“Didn’t I read somewhere that the
Hispanic woman was attacked by that serial killer they are calling The Runner? Looks
like she made a good recovery.”

Robinson edged closer to Parke and
lowered his voice, “Doc, we don’t want to mention those other killings. Kate’s
already approached me about them. She says there are enough similarities that
Klein wanted to postpone the trial for a while.” He paused to look at Parke. “And
I haven’t seen anything that ties her attack to The Runner. Don’t know where
you saw that. In any case, put The Runner out of your mind. We both want this
guy convicted, right? I know damn well he killed my Debbie.”

Parke turned and faced the wall,
standing beside Robinson and spoke even more quietly. “Listen, Walter, I’ve
reviewed the evidence. I know he did it. Their only defense is that he didn’t
know what he did was wrong because of his illness. Doesn’t matter which side
I’m on, the jury will believe me. Now, let’s get in there. I want to study the
jurors, starting when they follow the bailiff into the courtroom. Oh, one more
thing. What’s with that door in the back of the courtroom?”

“Romack subpoenaed it. There’s a key
in evidence. They think it might be Debbie’s. Personally, I don’t think it
amounts to a hill of beans.”

Parke nodded with a blank expression
that gave away nothing about his knowledge of the key. What Parke didn’t tell
Robinson was that he didn’t like the Hispanic woman invading his personal
space. When he found that she was into computers, something told him that she
would eventually be a problem. He tried to eliminate her. It was his only
failure.

As the jury filed in, Wayne glanced
back to the audience. Dr. Parke sat on the last row.
Well, well, well,
Wayne thought
,
the man has come down from the mountain.
Judging from what we’ve read about
him, he’s dressed in his courtroom clothes. Parke stared back at Wayne.
You son of a bitch, you damn sure won’t
intimidate me
, he thought. Wayne smiled at the doctor and gave him a salute.

Judge Fernandez opened his door and
almost leaped the three steps to his bench. “Everybody have a good night? I
slept like a log. Mr. Romack, I see your Rockets managed to win a game last
night.”

Duke smiled at Felix’s good mood.

The judge looked over to the jury. “The
defense is now going to present its evidence. Call your first witness.”

Harry Klein got to his feet first. “Your
Honor, there’s one minor matter. Dr. Frederick Parke is now in the courtroom
and I wanted to introduce him to you and the jury. Dr. Parke will you please
stand?”

Every eye in the room turned to
appraise the man at the back as he rose and said, “Good morning, Your Honor. My
pleasure to be here.”

Romack said. “Your Honor, we call Paul
Sanchez. He’s seated in the back of the courtroom.”

A short man, middle-aged with a full
head of black hair, walked to the bench where Casey swore him in.

“You’re Paul Sanchez?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Sanchez, I’m not going to take
very long. How are you employed?”

“I’m the manager of the Villa Palm
apartments down the street close to the medical center.”

“Did you know a former tenant named
Debbie Robinson?”

Sadness filled the witness’s face. “I
did. She was a fine young woman. Always took time to stop and talk when she saw
me.”

“Then, I take it you were in the same
employment when she was killed?”

“Yes, sir, it was a bad day.”

Duke motioned to Wayne. They walked
to the back of the courtroom and picked up the door. Taking it to the front,
they leaned it up against their table while the jury looked on with curiosity. Duke
stood beside the door. “I subpoenaed this door, did I not?”

“You did, sir. I agreed for you to
have it taken out with the understanding that you would pay to have a new one
installed.”

“Is this the door to the apartment
where Debbie lived?”

“It is.

“Same door as when she lived there? Same
lock?”

“Yes. No one has lived there since
Debbie died. No reason to change out the locks.”

Duke took an evidence sticker from
Casey’s desk and placed it on the door. “Your Honor, the defense offers defense
exhibit 16, the door in question, into evidence.”

Klein would have liked to object, but
could not think of any objection that would be sustained. He waved his hand,
indicating no objection.

Fernandez smiled. “I believe this is
the first time I’ve ever had an actual door admitted as an exhibit. Since the
prosecution does not object, it’s admitted”

     
Duke walked to the evidence table where he retrieved the key. Wayne
tried to hide the tension he was feeling. If this worked, it would be one more
bit of evidence to raise a reasonable doubt. Dan stared intently.

“Judge, I’m going to remove the key
from the bag.”

Fernandez nodded his agreement.

“Mr. Sanchez, would you step down
here?”

Sanchez moved to stand beside Duke.

“Can you identify this key?”

“Looks like one of ours. Can’t be
sure, though. Keys can look alike.”

“Would you take this key and see if
it will open the door to Debbie’s apartment.”

Sanchez took the key while Duke
positioned the door so that the jurors could see as Sanchez placed it in the
lock. When he first tried to turn it, nothing happened.

“Not working, Mr. Romack.”

Klein smiled at Kate, thinking that Duke’s
little grandstand play was going to backfire. Wayne reached into his briefcase
and retrieved a small can of WD 40. “Here, Duke, try this. Maybe it’s a little
frozen from lack of use. Salt air can do that.”

Several jurors nodded their
understanding.

Duke sprayed the lock. “Now, try
again.”

This time when Sanchez placed the
key, it turned. Duke took the handle and opened the door, a smile on his face.

“You can return to your seat, Mr.
Sanchez. Tell the jury, sir, when Debbie was killed, did anyone from the Galveston
police department drive that few blocks to the Villa Palm to see you or to
check Debbie’s apartment?”

“No, sir. You were the first and that
was just yesterday.”

“No further questions.”

Silence filled the courtroom. The
jury contemplated what they had just seen and how it fit in with the other
evidence they were hearing. Klein contemplated what to do. Finally, he said he
had no questions and Mr. Sanchez was excused. Duke and Wayne made a show of
taking the door to the back of the courtroom, this time leaving it upright for
all to see. They didn’t notice a fleeting look of concern on the face of Dr.
Parke.

The judge said, “Let’s proceed.”

“Your Honor, we call Sarah Little.”

Wayne and Duke had made the final
decision to call her the night before. Although nervous, she was eager to do
what she could to defend her son. Dressed in a pale green dress with white lace
at the cuffs of her long sleeves, Sarah approached the witness stand.

Judge Fernandez smiled as she stood
before him. “Sarah, please raise your right hand and be sworn. Sorry, I should
be calling you Mrs. Little here.”

Her hand in the air, Sarah replied,
“That’s okay, Judge. You call me whatever you choose. I’m going to tell you the
truth.”

     
Sarah took her seat in the witness chair. Three of the women jurors
nodded greetings to her. The lawyers at the prosecution table recognized that
when their time came, they best go easy on this charming senior citizen.