The Insanity Plea (31 page)

Dr. Adashek uncrossed his legs and
looked up at the judge. “Certainly I can, Your Honor. Once Dan went off his
medication before trial, he returned to a psychotic condition that was almost
exactly like he was in when I saw him after his arrest.”

Kate had been nervously twirling a
pencil in her right hand as Adashek’s testimony came in. With his last opinion,
she broke it in half, causing three jurors on the back row to stare at her.

Wayne returned the file to the
witness stand. “You’ve been caring for Dan off and on for about fifteen years,
haven’t you?”

Dr. Adashek nodded his head in
agreement.

Wayne patted the file as he
continued, “Dr. Adashek, I don’t want to take the time to go through every
visit with Dan. Instead, can you just point out some of the major indications
of his psychotic behavior that you personally witnessed?”

The doctor shook his head as he
thought. “That’s a number of years. I’ll try to cover some of them. The easier
ones are the more recent before we tried this current med. I interviewed him
every day for the first two weeks. During that time, he told me that the light
fixture in his cell had a camera and the FBI was spying on him, trying to prove
he was a terrorist. On another occasion, he said that he woke during the night
with little men marching up and down outside his cell. Then there was the time
he heard growling noises somewhere down the hall and was worried that some
beast was after him. Oh, and one time he came to the interview with patches of
his hair missing. He said worms were living in his scalp and he had to get them
out. Should I go on?”

The juror at the end of the first row
closest to the witness had her hand over her mouth and shook her head when he
completed his answer. Wayne took a clue from her and said, “I think that’s
enough for now. When you saw him the day of his arrest, which was the day after
Debbie’s murder, did he have any memory of Debbie, seeing her or anything about
her?”

“No, Mr. Little. He didn’t. That, of
course, is not a surprise. When these patients are psychotic, and I might add,
Dan was nearly always in some form of a psychotic state when he quit taking his
medications, it’s common that they lose both short term and long term memory.”

Wayne walked to the podium for his
next question, wanting to make sure that every juror observed and heard the
question and answer. “Dr. Adashek, on the day of Debbie’s murder, was Daniel
Little insane? Did he understand right from wrong?”

The witness turned to face the jury. “Absolutely
not, ladies and gentlemen. No matter what the definition of insanity one would
choose, he was legally insane.”

Wayne leaned over Dan and conferred
with Duke and then rose to stand between the witness and the jury. “One last
question, Doctor Adashek. I know you’re a good and caring psychiatrist and have
done your best for my brother. Why can’t you cure him?”

Dr. Adashek folded his hands on the
medical file and then picked it up and walked over to the jury. Placing the
folder on the jury box rail, he answered. “These are only part of my notes on
Dan. The hospital record is four or five times this thick. I told you at the
start that I wanted to solve the mysteries of the human mind. This is one that
still remains unsolved. We’re taking baby steps. Fixing the brain is not like
setting a broken bone. We’re doing our best. I’m hopeful that this time the
medication will continue to work for Dan.”

Wayne received a nod from Duke and
passed the witness who remained standing in front of the jury. Since no one
asked him to take a seat, he faced Kate with one hand resting on his medical
file.

Kate surprised Wayne by going back to
Dr. Adashek’s care of Dan many years ago. Yes, he knew about Dan’s violent
behavior, including the incident with the knife and his mother and the setting
of the fire. Kate rose to her full five feet and marched over to confront Dr.
Adashek in front of the jury where she looked up into the witness’s eyes. “Well,
Doctor, the jurors have heard from Dan’s own mother that he apologized for both
of these events the next day, and she thought he knew he had done wrong. That
being the case, wouldn’t you agree that even though he had a severe mental
illness, he understood his conduct was wrong in the eyes of society?”

Dr. Adashek stroked his beard as he
searched for the right answer. Kate stood in front of him, her hands on her
hips, head cocked up, her posture demanding an answer. “No, Ms. Rasmussen, I
can’t agree. I wasn’t there. I don’t know the circumstances of the
conversations. No honest psychiatrist would offer such an opinion.”

Kate walked away from Dr. Adashek to
the end of the jury box and then whirled to face the witness with anger in her
voice. “Then, Doctor, surely you have seen Mr. Dan Little’s confession.”

Dr. Adashek nodded.

“And surely you would agree that he
understood what he did the day before was wrong in spite of his psychosis.”

Dr. Adashek decided that if Kate
could stand and play at being angry, he could also. He marched toward her,
pausing, not six inches away. Felix started to raise his gavel but changed his
mind.

“Ms. Rasmussen,” the doctor said
through gritted teeth as he attempted to keep his voice down, “he had no idea
what he did the day before. Do I need to repeat this again or have I made
myself clear?”

Judge Fernandez interrupted. “I think
you have said enough, Doctor. Now, would you both take your seats?”

Kate conferred with Harry Klein and asked,
“Doctor, you know Dr. Parke, seated in the back of the courtroom, don’t you?”

All eyes turned to Dr. Parke who
stood and smiled at the jury.

“Yes. Of course. He lectures in our
psychiatry department about once a year. No doubt he’s one of the best forensic
psychiatrists in the country.”

 
“Then, wouldn’t you agree that he would be
better qualified to evaluate Mr. Dan Little’s sanity than you?”

Dr. Adashek acknowledged his
colleague at the back of the room. “That would be difficult to say, Ms.
Rasmussen. I have a long history with the patient and saw him the day after the
murder. Generally, the sooner a doctor can see this kind of patient, the more
accurate his evaluation. On the other hand, Rick…I mean Dr. Parke probably
knows more about the criminal mind than anyone in the country. But, you must
remember that forensics is the art of argumentation and debate. There’s not one
word about seeking the truth in the definition. I’d say that the jury just
needs to listen to all the psychiatric opinions. Then they can evaluate what
they hear.”

Kate figured that she had finished on
a high note and had embellished her star witness’s credentials; so she quit. Harry
rose and shook her hand, a smile on his face.

Wayne had one more question. “Dr.
Adashek, how much are you being paid for your time today?”

He turned to the jury and replied,
“Nothing, ladies and gentlemen. My personal opinion is that it is not ethical
to charge for cases like these. Others in my profession disagree, but I feel
quite strongly about it.”

 
At the conclusion of Dr. Adashek’s testimony the
judge recessed for the day. Rita felt a touch on her elbow. She turned to see
Dr. Parke looking at her, particularly her neck. “Ms. Contreras, nice to see
you again. We last met in Vail I believe.”

Rita took a step back as he looked at
her. “I’m not sure of the rules, here, Doctor. I don’t know if I’m supposed to
be talking to you.”

Parke stepped closer to see her neck
better. “Oh, it’s all right. I’m not going to talk about the case. I just
wanted to say hello before I retire to The Tremont for the evening. I heard
about your attack. Thank God you survived, and I’m pleased that you had a good
surgeon that left such a slight scar.”

Before she could reply, Wayne took
her arm and led her out of the courtroom. As they waited for the elevator, Rita
said, “That guy still gives me the creeps. Also, get Duke to make sure that Dr.
Brickman is staying at the San Luis. The creep is at the Tremont House.”

Wayne trailed behind the group as
they walked the two blocks to Sarah’s house. Rita looked back at the first
cross street and saw Wayne, hands in pockets and head down, angrily kick a
newspaper from the sidewalk out into the street. It nearly hit a Mustang that
was being driven slowly behind them. The driver had a baseball cap pulled low
and was wearing oval sunglasses that seemed to cover half of his face. When the
newspaper landed in front of the Mustang, the driver accelerated and turned
left back toward The Strand at the corner past Sarah’s house. Rita wondered who
was in it only momentarily before turning her thoughts back to Wayne and what was
causing his mood.

When they got back to the house, Rita
looked again and Wayne was fifty yards back. At the house, he stopped at the
veranda and settled into a rocker, not really wanting to talk to anyone. He
rocked and stared off into the distance for a good ten minutes. Two neighbors,
friends of his mother’s, walked by and waved. He ignored them while he thought
back over the day’s events and the impact of the testimony on his brother’s
life.
Shit,
he thought,
why did I ever insist on defending Dan? It
was one thing when he was psychotic. Hell, back then he probably would barely
have understood what was going on. If we lost, he might not even remember who I
was. Now, though, he’s close to normal. He seems to understand everything. If
he gets the death penalty, he’ll die, blaming his brother for not getting him
off.
Finally, Wayne concluded that it was not Dan, but he who was insane. It
had to be him.
 
How else could he explain
what he had gotten himself into?

Then a big foot kicked the screen
door open. It was followed by Duke, carrying two Coronas. Rita trailed behind.

“What the hell you doing out here, bro?
Everybody’s worrying about you. Your mama’s convinced that she lost the case
for us today. You’re gonna need to talk to her before we go meet with Jeb. Here,
drink this. You earned it.”

Rita sat in the rocker beside Wayne,
sipping iced tea while Duke sat on the porch rail, propping his feet on the
small oval table between the rockers. Rita reached over and rubbed Wayne’s
neck.

“You okay, hon?”

Wayne shut his eyes and rocked for
another minute. Duke swigged his beer. Finally, Wayne opened his eyes, brought
the Corona to his lips, rocked back and downed half of it in one gulp. “Yeah,
I’m okay…I guess. Only I admit the pressure is getting to me. Duke, you know
Mom’s testimony is going to come back to haunt us.”

“Look, bro, she was honest. And
remember Adashek said that no honest shrink could use what he said a long time
ago to conclude he was sane on the day of the murder.”

Duke walked to the screen door and
opened it, saying, “Okay, go talk to your mother. Then we have to meet Jeb.”

Wayne found his mother, sitting alone
at the kitchen table, sipping tea and gazing out into the backyard garden. As
Wayne settled in across from her, he covered her free hand with his. Sarah
looked up. Wayne could see the redness in her eyes.

“Tell me, son, did I do really bad
today?” Sarah asked as she reached for a tissue and blew her nose.

Wayne took both of her hands in his. “No,
Mom. I’m sorry if I seemed upset. Actually, I was upset, but not with you. The
stress is getting to all of us. I’m supposed to be a big time lawyer. We’re
supposed to be able to handle the stress. Otherwise, we ought to be sweeping
streets or working on a shrimp boat. It’s just that most of us just don’t have
our brother’s life at stake.”

Sarah straightened up in her chair,
cleared her throat and realized that she needed to be stronger. This time she
squeezed Wayne’s hands and looked into his eyes. “I know you’re doing your very
best. All of us are.” With a twinkle in her eye, she continued, “and if I was
ever charged with a crime, I’d want you and Duke defending me.”

That brought a smile to Wayne’s face.
“Thanks, Mom. And, don’t you worry about your testimony today. You told the
truth about what happened fifteen years ago. Dr. Brickman will deal with it and
if Parke makes a big deal of it, I’ll fry his ass, pardon my legal talk.”

Wayne got up, walked around the table
to his mother and pulled her up from her chair. He hugged her as hard as he
could. “Now, if you’ll fix dinner for Rita and Claudia, Duke and I have to meet
with Dr. Brickman. Just leave something in the microwave for us when we get
back.”

Sarah gave him her most withering
stare. “If you think I’ll just leave something cold, you just don’t remember
your mama. I’ll be up when you get back and have something warm for the two of
you.”

Sent: June 14, 2013 Time: 7:27 p.m.

From: Dan Little

To: Rita Contreras

Subject: Trial

Rita, I hope you’re online tonight. I thought that Adashek did okay
today. Mom did her best. I just wish she hadn’t been so honest. I know we’ve
got Brickman up first tomorrow. Duke says he’ll do fine, but I’m still worried.
I suppose that I’m worried about everything, particularly Parke. I can feel his
eyes burning into the back of my head, almost like he’s reading my mind. Every
time we take a break and I stand up or walk to the holding cell, I see him
watching me. Okay, I know I’m paranoid, but with him I have damn good reasons.

I am able to get back on the internet tonight for the first time since trial.
I have a deputy sitting at the library door to make sure I don’t throw a fit
(which I won’t). I’ve pulled up the stuff about The Runner. From all my reading
about serial killers, which is everything I have been able to find on the
internet, this bastard is craving recognition. My guess is that he’ll drop
another clue soon and then start killing again. We’re down to a few days before
the jury decides whether I live or die. Pray for me…PLEASE!

Dan

Sent: June 14, 2013 Time: 7:35 p.m.

From: Rita Contreras.

To: Daniel Little

Subject: Trial

I’m here, Dan. Wayne and Duke have just left to go meet with Brickman. Duke
has confidence in him and I have confidence in Duke. I wish I could tell you
there’s something more out there about The Runner. I’ve checked all of my news
sources and the sound of silence is overwhelming. The killer is definitely on
sabbatical. I know we’ve only got a few days left before the trial ends. There
are lots of prayers, for you, mine included. I check the internet a couple of times
a day. Now about all we can do is go forward with the trial. Wayne thinks we’re
even at this point, which Duke says is pretty good. Duke’s presenting Brickman
tomorrow and then comes Parke. Wayne can’t wait to get hold of him. Have
confidence, my friend. Put your money on your brother.

Rita

Duke turned the Navigator onto
Seawall Boulevard and pointed it toward the San Luis. It was evening, close to
sunset. The temperature had dropped into the seventies and cool breezes floated
from the Gulf, bringing strollers, skaters, joggers and bicyclers to enjoy the
wide expanse of the seawall sidewalk. The boulevard was busy as some people
wound up their day at the beach and others looked for hotels or restaurants.

At 53
^rd
Street, Duke
turned right into the circular driveway of the San Luis. By Galveston
standards, the San Luis was a luxury hotel. It might not have qualified for a
similar rating in Miami Beach, but it still merited three stars in anyone’s
book. More importantly, every room had a balcony opening onto the beach and Gulf.
Duke tipped the valet twenty dollars and told him to keep the car handy. As
they walked the long, glass enclosed corridor from the drive to the hotel, they
noticed a white gazebo and a wedding underway on the lawn to their right. To
the left was a resort style swimming pool, complete with water slides and
swim-up bars. Once inside, Duke found a house phone and asked for Dr. Brickman’s
room.

“Brickman.”

“Hey, Jeb, Duke here. Come on down
and we’ll have a drink and talk about tomorrow.”

“No, my big friend,” Dr. Brickman
replied. “You and Wayne come to my room. The hotel graciously upgraded me to a
corner suite. I have a large balcony and a couple of bottles of Wild Turkey. Besides,
we’ll have more privacy here.”

Wayne and Duke went to the elevator
and punched the button for the nineteenth floor.

“Duke, this may not be a good sign. Dan’s
life is riding on this guy and all he’s talking about is Wild Turkey. We’re
fucked if he doesn’t have his A game tomorrow.”

“Wayne, don’t sweat it. I’ll stake
our friendship on his coming through like Michael Jordan with the ball in his
hands and three seconds on the clock. Trust me on this one.”

The elevator door opened and they
walked to the end of the hall where Dr. Brickman was standing in his open doorway
with two glasses in hand. “Greetings, my friends. Please come in.” Jeb handed
off the glasses and bowed as he invited them to enter.

Duke entered first, followed by
Wayne. Wayne’s eye was immediately drawn to a room bar where there were two
bottles of Wild Turkey, an ice bucket and several glasses. One of the bottles
was half empty. Houston, we may have a problem, Wayne thought.

Jeb escorted them through the sliding
glass door onto a balcony, large enough to contain three chairs and a small
table.

Duke looked out over the Gulf and
down below to the traffic and pedestrians still overflowing the seawall. “Nice
view, Jeb. I think I can see Cancun just on the horizon there.”
               

Jeb laughed and invited them to be
seated. Wayne said nothing.

“Tell me how is the trial going?” Jeb
asked. Before anyone could answer, he slurped down the last of his own whiskey
and excused himself to pour another. When he returned, Duke replied. “State’s
made a damn strong case for guilty of capital murder. We put a couple of holes
in their case, but you’re our man. Don’t want to put pressure on you
unnecessarily, but you’ve got to carry the day.”

Wayne nodded in agreement. He thought
that Jeb’s speech was a little slurred but was not sure whether it was the
alcohol or just that strange Southern accent.

Jeb’s red face beamed with confidence.
“You have no cause to worry. I know my stuff. I’ve studied all the records
again…all day today. Came down here to get away from the office.”

Wayne recalled the half empty bottle
of Wild Turkey and now understood where it had gone.

“Finished the videos and took a walk
on the beach. Then returned to the room and just sat here, staring out into the
Gulf and digesting what I’d read. I’m ready.”

“You think, Doctor, that maybe you’ve
had enough whiskey and ought to switch to water for the rest of the evening?”
Wayne asked.

The psychiatrist rose from his chair
and disappeared into the room, returning with another full glass. “Now, boy,
don’t you go fretting about your old Uncle Jeb. Me and Wild Turkey have been
companions for years. I’m just sipping a little now and then. It always helps
me collect my thoughts. I’ll be clear-headed in the morning.”
         

Wayne grimaced as he sat down his glass.
“Well, I have no choice now but to rely on you and Duke. Let me tell you about
a couple of issues that have come up. First, Dr. Parke is already here. He
watched all day today.”

“Parke’s not an honest man. I don’t care
what his reputation is. He’ll say any damn thing as long as he gets his check.”

Wayne got up from his chair and
looked out over the horizon. A star or two had winked their way into the
heavens. “Dr. Brickman, I wish you could testify to that, but your opinion
about him won’t be relevant. The judge will keep it out. Let me tell you what’s
been going on.”

Wayne continued to lean on the rail,
but turned to face the other men as he described his mother’s testimony and her
agreement that many years ago when Dan was violent he knew he was wrong. Jeb
listened as he took another sip of his drink and said that he was sure he could
handle the issue. After an hour and a half, Wayne and Duke left, saying that
the next day was critical and they needed their sleep. Wayne also suggested
that Jeb turn in early. Wayne tried to take the remaining bottle of Wild Turkey.
When Dr. Brickman strongly objected, he reluctantly left empty handed. As they
drove back to Sarah’s house, Wayne had a gnawing in the pit of his stomach that
something was not going to go right the next day.
 

It was eight the next morning and
Duke was getting into his car in front of Sarah’s house when Wayne yelled from
the veranda. “Hold on. I’m going with you.”

Duke paused at the car door. “No
need, dude. It’s just ten minutes to the hotel. Jeb will be waiting in front. We’ll
be back at the courthouse by eight-thirty.”

Wayne climbed in the passenger seat. “I’m
ready for the day. I’ll ride along. Just want to satisfy myself that our star
witness has his head screwed on straight before I head to the courthouse.”

Duke covered the same route as the
night before, only in less than ten minutes since traffic on Seawall Boulevard
was light. They turned into the hotel circular drive and pulled up to the
entrance. Both lawyers looked for the little red headed man, only he was nowhere
to be found. Duke thought a minute and pulled out his cell phone. “I think I’ve
got his cell in memory. Let me see. There it is.”

Duke punched in numbers and listened
until a voice message picked up. He slammed the cell phone shut. “Okay. Let’s
go in and use a house phone. Maybe he was in the john and couldn’t get to the
phone.” Duke tipped the valet a twenty again and told him just to leave the
Navigator on the ramp. They would be back in five minutes.

Duke tried to hide his concern as
they walked through the corridor to the hotel lobby. At the bell desk he asked
for a house phone. “I’ll call him. You go check in the restaurant. Maybe he’s
finishing breakfast.”

Duke picked up the house phone. Wayne
passed the elevators and entered the restaurant. Duke asked for Dr. Brickman
and momentarily the phone rang, and rang, and rang. The hotel operator came
back on the line and said, “I’m sorry, sir. The guest in that room is not
answering. Can I take a message?”

Duke replaced the phone and turned to
find Wayne walking toward him. “Not in the restaurant. Hostess says no one that
looks like him has been in there all morning.”

“Okay,” Duke replied. “Up the
elevator. He’s got to be in his room.”

Duke pushed the elevator button and
when one didn’t arrive immediately he pushed it again. Finally one opened and a
family with five kids got off. Duke and Wayne pushed behind them. Two other men
tried to get on, but Duke blocked them. “Sorry, this one is now out of service.”

The doors closed and the elevator
rose slowly to the nineteenth floor.

Wayne was now getting nervous. “You
thinking what I am?”

“Bro, he is not hung over. Must be
sitting out on the balcony going over his notes. We’re gonna be okay,” Duke
said with false optimism in his voice.

When the elevator doors opened, both
men strided to the end of the hall. Duke knocked on the door. No answer. Next,
he pounded the door and yelled. No answer.

“Stay here, Wayne. I’m going back to
that phone in the elevator lobby.”

This time Duke ran down the hallway. When
he reached the phone, he pushed “O” and asked for security.

“This is Johnson in hotel security. How
can I help you?”

“Johnson, this is Duke Romack. I need
you on the nineteenth floor to unlock a room for me.”

“Are you a guest locked out of your
room?”

“No. I think a friend of mine may be
passed out in his room.”

“Sorry, sir. I’ll be happy to call
the room, but we cannot unlock a guest’s room for anyone else.”

“The hell you can’t! You got one
minute to get up here. Otherwise I’m going to use my size fourteens as a key and
kick the son of a bitch open.”

Duke slammed the phone down and
looked at his watch. As one minute approached, a rotund security guard exited
the elevator. His name tag read Johnson Oliver. Johnson sized up Duke and
figured that he damn sure could kick the door open.

“Look, Johnson, this is a matter of
life and death. You open the door. You go in first. Me and my buddy at the end
of the hall will follow you in.”

Johnson nodded his agreement,
figuring that he would save the hotel the cost of a door. Wayne stepped aside
to allow him to slip a card into the lock and turned the handle. The living
area and bedroom were empty. Then, Wayne glanced out on the balcony.

“Shit, Duke. He’s out there, either
dead or passed out.”

Dr. Brickman was on the balcony,
slumped over in a chair and snoring loudly. An empty bottle of whiskey lay at
his feet. Duke yelled at him. “Jeb, wake up!”

Jeb didn’t stir.

Duke shook him and nearly lifted him out
of his chair. Finally, Jeb opened his eyes. As Jeb worked to focus, he slurred,
“Why are you here? Still the middle of the night. I need my sleep.”

Jeb shut his eyes and began to snore
again.

Johnson had surveyed the scene, concluded
that he was no longer needed and excused himself.

Wayne yelled at Duke, “Now what do we
do? We can’t put him on the stand like that. You may have just cost my brother
his life!”

For his part, Duke was petrified. “Here’s
what we’re going to do. You take my car back to the courthouse. Stall, file
some motions, whatever it takes. Last resort, tell the judge that Brickman came
down with food poisoning and we need a short delay. Use your imagination. I’m
putting Jeb in the shower and ordering up two pots of black coffee, some dry
rolls and a bottle of aspirin. I used to have to do this for one of my
teammates who had a drinking problem. I’ll have him there in two hours, ready
to go on the stand. Trust me one more time, please.”