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Back again after recess even Claude Dancer seemed somewhat soberedâas indeed all of us wereâby the incident of the disabled veteran. He kept badgering and worrying the Lieutenant about what he had told Dectective Sergeant Durgo, and going over and over the story of the actual shooting in an effort to get him to admit remembering some fragment of the events that he had earlier denied remembering, but the Lieutenant, of all the people in the courtroom, seemed heartened now by what had happened, and his answers were if anything more cool and deliberate than they had been before.
“Is it true that you struck and knocked down a fellow officer who had paid some attention to your wife at a cocktail party?” the Dancer next led off.
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
“Because he was intoxicated and was annoying her.”
Softly: “Were you jealous, Lieutenant?”
“I wouldn't say so. I didn't like it and I resented his actions.”
“Were you angry?”
Frowning: “Well, to some extent I was, yes.”
“Do you have a quick temper, Lieutenant?” The Dancer paused. “Would you knock me down if I dared kiss your wife's hand?”
Lieutenant Manion stared up at the skylight and a half smile flitted over his face as he answered. “No, Mr. Dancerâbut I think I might be sore tempted to spank you.”
The courtroom tittered and Claude Dancer flushed with hot anger and stood biting his lips, fighting for self-control, as though he were counting to ten. He retired to his table and drank a glass of water and returned to the witness.
“Now, Lieutenant,” he said, after a pause, winding up to pitch a fast inside curve (I was beginning to learn the signs) “take this lüger you used to shoot Barney Quill with.”
“Yes, sir,” the Lieutenant replied coolly, and I glanced quickly at Parnell and hoped the Lieutenant would remember the medicine Parnell and I had cooked up for that one.
Claude Dancer found the fatal weapon in the pile of exhibits and spun it on his finger like Billy the Kid. “This lüger pistol that you kept loaded in your trailer and carried unlawfully concealed on your person that nightâit was not regular Army issue, was it?” he purred.
“No, sir,” the Lieutenant replied, as I held my breath for the next question.
Still spinning: “You had not reported it to your C.O. and as far as your superiors knew you did not even possess it?”
“That's correct, sir,” the Lieutenant answered quietly.
Pausing triumphantly: “Then please explain to the court and jury how and where you got it?”
“Yes, sir,” the Lieutenant said obediently, and in accordance with my repeated instructions he began abruptly with the patrol skirmish he had told me about weeks before. “We had gone out on night patrol,” the Lieutenant began, and without so much as mentioning the lüger he proceeded to tell the story of how the old gray timber wolf of a German lieutenant had sniped at his men from behind the battered stub of chimney; of how he, Lieutenant Manion, had crawled around behind the hidden German.
“Lieutenant, I did not ask you for a Cook's tour of your heroic adventures
in World War Two,” Claude Dancer broke in, at last sensing the trap he had fallen in. “I asked you where you got the lüger. Just tell us that.” He dropped the pistol back on the pile of exhibits.
“I'm telling you, sir,” the Lieutenant said calmly, and he proceeded on with his story of the death of the battered and wounded German lieutenant, telling it even better, I thought, than he had told me the first time. “And that is how and where I got the lüger pistol, sir,” he concluded, looking coolly at Claude Dancer and respectfully awaiting the next question.
Claude Dancer shot me a grim nod of congratulation and swiftly changed the subject in an effort to cover up. “Do you and your wife have any children?” he asked abruptly.
“No, sir.”
“And is this your first marriage?”
“No, sir, my second.”
“And did either you or your wife have children by your respective previousâahâadventures in matrimony?”
Scowling: “No, sir.”
“And both of your parents are dead, I believe?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you have no dependents other than your wife, Lieutenant?”
“None, sir.”
Claude Dancer was now cleverly showing the jury that there was no widowed mother or seven starving children standing in the way of the jury throwing the book at the Lieutenant by its verdict.
“And your wife has earned her living before and she is in good health and could do so again?”
“Yes, sir, if it came to that I believe she could, sir.”
“The witness is back to you,” Claude Dancer said, turning to me.
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“No re-direct examination,” I said, tugging at the knot on my tie out of sheer relief to at last have the Lieutenant off the stand and out of the clutches of this diabolical little man.
“We'll take five minutes,” the Judge said to the Sheriff, plainly grown parsimonious of time in this case that all of us hoped would be over and done that day.
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During recess Parnell told me that he and Maida had driven to Thunder Bay the night before, following Maida's inspired brainstorm over the desk clerk, and had dined at the hotel, overlooking the lake. After supper Parnell had had a long and friendly visit with
Mary Pilant in her rooms. When the night clerk had come on duty Mary had summoned him upstairs and, so she told Parnell later, for the first time had heard the full and significant details of Barney's appearance and actions the night of the shooting.
I cocked my head skeptically at the earnest old man but remained silent. “Ah, Polly,” Parnell said, shaking his head, “you may find it hard to do, but I believe her; I believe she was moved by the highest of impulses to shut her mind to an evil thing. Don't think harshly of her, boy; sheâshe is such a sweet child, so grave, and now so penitent and concerned. She particularly asked me to extend you her warmest best wishes. I think you made a hit with her, boy.” He blinked his eyes mistily. “Ah meâto think that I might have had a daughter like her. Sheâshe reminds me so much of my own lost lamb.”
I silently patted the old man on the back and ducked out for a drink of water. “You are a good man, Paul Biegler,” this strange girl had said.
“Dr. Matthew Smith,” I said, and young Dr. Smith arose and moved forward and was sworn and took the stand.
“Your name, please, Doctor?” I said.
“Matthew Smith.”
“What is your profession?”
“I am a psychiatrist .”
The jurors glanced at each other, surprised, and I was sure they were appraising his youth, evidently sharing with me the Hollywood notion that psychiatrists had somehow to look like first cousins to Svengali and Rasputin. “Are you duly licensed to practice medicine and surgery in the state of Michigan?” I went on.
“I am.”
After that, in accordance with courtroom protocol, I took the young doctor on a quick guided tour through medical school, graduation, an internship in psychiatry here, a residency there, then some graduate work over there, then work on the psychiatric staff of a Detroit hospital, work with various health clinics, probate courts, the Veterans' Administration and the like, finally down to his present job.
“Are you a member of a board or organization devoted to your specialty?” I pressed on.
“Yes, I have been certified by the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means that the American Psychiatric Association has put its stamp of approval on me as a specialist to practice psychiatry.”
“And are there practicing psychiatrists who do not possess this certification?” I said.
“There are.”
“How many years have you spent actively in the field of psy chiatry, Doctor?”
“Over eight years.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
The Doctor's Army association had to be dragged out by someone, so drag away I did. “What is your status as to being a civilian or otherwise?”
“I am at present in the military force in the Army, stationed at Bellevue Army Hospital as chief of the neuropsychiatric service.”
“With what military rank?”
“Captain.”
“Now, Doctor, I ask you if you were recently assigned by your superiors to conduct a psychiatric examination of Lieutenant Frederic Manion, the defendant in this case?”
“I was.”
“Did you conduct such an examination?”
“I did.”
“Where?”
“At Bellevue Army Hospital.”
“When?”
“From Thursday, September fourth through half of Sunday, the seventh.”
“And will you tell us, Doctor, some of the things that were done in connection with this examination.”
“This man received a complete physical examination, which means that he went through each of the specialty clinics in the hospital and he was examined by a specialist in the particular department. Then a complete social history was performed by a man specially trained and qualified in that field. He also received an electroencephalogram study.”
“What is that?”
“Because there was in the history the fact that the Lieutenant had been unconscious as a result of a concussion suffered in military service efforts were made to determine whether or not there might be some residual effectsâthese would probably have shown up on an electroencephalogram. However it was perfectly normal.”
“Go ahead.”
“He also received the apperception test and was extensively interviewed on the three and one-half days he was there. This was my primary assignment during the period of the Lieutenant's hospitalization.”
“I ask you if some of the preliminary tests were conducted by men working under youâby persons working under you?” I had to get this out in the open before Claude Dancer did.
“Taken by technicians trained for the purpose, yes. The responses were examined by me. The test itself, that is the various responses to the previous tests, were examined by myself and interpreted to the extent that they were interpreted.”
“Now I ask you, Doctor, whether there are modern psychiatric facilities and equipment at the Bellevue Army Hospital?”
“There are indeed, sir.”
“And how do they compare with other equipment of that nature in other hospitals?”
“Our facilities compare favorably with that in any hospital I am acquainted with.”
I paused. We were coming to the crucial hypothetical question over which Parnell and I had worked so long and given so much thought. The hypothetical question was one of the law's more urbane fictions, a convenient sort of legal make-believe by which counsel, when examining an expert witness called by it, wrapped up all the facts and issues and pet theories of his case in a sort of neat legal grab bag and pelted it at the expert witness for his opinion and conclusion. It at least mercifully possessed the highly desirable quality of saving time.
“Doctor,” I said, “I ask you whether you and I have heretofore reviewed together a hypothetical question based upon the issue of possible insanity in this case?”
“We have.”
I advanced to the Judge's bench. “Your Honor,” I said, “I hand you a copy of our hypothetical question.” I walked over to Mitch's table. “I also hand counsel a copy.” I returned to my table. “With the Court's permission I should now like to read into the record our hypothetical question.”
The judge nodded. “Read away,” he said, and the court reporter rolled up his eyes and seemed to brace himself for the expected flood of words, in which he was not disappointed.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” I said, and began reading. “Doctor, assume that a man of thirty-six is a First Lieutenant in the United States Army; that he was a combat veteran of World War II and the Korean War; that he returned to his country from Korea in 1953 and for a time was assigned to special military duty in various places. That in July of this year he was assigned to duty in a remote logging and resort village in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. That he was married to an attractive and vivacious woman five years his senior. That these two were and are much in love with each other. That they lived in a trailer in a public park in said village. That the social and recreational facilities of said village were limited. That one of the few public recreational places they could conveniently go to was a neighboring hotel bar. That because of his long overseas service and the further fact that he was on loan from his own outfit the Lieutenant had few acquaintances among local Army personnel. That he
occasionally went to the hotel bar when off duty and that his social relations with the civilian proprietor were cordial though in no sense intimate. Assume further, Doctor, that at approximately 9:oo P.M. on Friday, August 15th the wife of this lieutenant went to this tavern to get some beer and play pinball and that the lieutenant went to bed and slept and that at approximately 11:45 P.M. he was suddenly awakened. That he hurriedly got up and thereupon heard a series of screams. That he then met his wife at the door of his trailer. That she was sobbing and breathless and hysterical. That she finally told him that the proprietor of the hotel bar had threatened her life and assaulted and raped her; that he had again just assaulted her and beaten and kicked her. That she was badly bruised and beaten. That her skirt was ripped and her underpants were missing. That the Lieutenant spent upwards of an hour attempting to calm and comfort and minister to his wife. That during this time she told him the details of the threats and assaults and beatings. That during this time he wiped a fluid from his wife's leg which he believed to be seminal fluid. Assume further, Doctor, that this lieutenant reasonably believed that the man whom he believed had just assaulted, threatened and raped his wife was an expert pistol shot and that he kept pistols about his premises and possibly on his person. That he himself kept a loaded liiger automatic pistol in his trailer for protection. That his mind was in a turmoil over what he believed had just happened to his wife and over her present condition. That he finally determined to seek out said hotel bar proprietor and grab him and hold him for the police. That while he felt considerable anger and loathing and contempt for the proprietor he had at no time any intention of killing or harming him but felt that if the man made one bad move he would have killed him. That he went and got his pistol without his wife's knowledge and left his wife in the trailer and proceeded toward this tavern. That he does not remember what time it was or precisely how he got to the tavern. That he finally got to the tavern and entered it. That he saw the proprietor standing alone behind the bar watching him. That he then advanced to the bar and the proprietor whirled around and the Lieutenant produced his pistol and pointed it at the proprietor and emptied its contents into his body, leaning over the bar to do so. That he had and has no conscious recollection of his act. That he then turned and left the tavern and proceeded toward his trailer. That he does not remember anything after he entered the tavern other than as indicated until he got home to the trailer. That he then first observed
that his pistol was empty; that he then told his wife that he had shot the tavern proprietor. That he then notified a deputized caretaker of the trailer camp of what he had done. That he waited in his trailer for the police and was subsequently arrested and charged with murder. Assume further, Doctor, that this man had never before in his lifetime ever been arrested for or convicted of any criminal offense, including any civilian act of violence toward another human being.” I paused and caught my breath. “Now, Doctor, assume all the facts herein stated to be true, have you an opinion based upon a reasonable psychiatric certainty as to whether or not it is probable that the hypothetical man was in a condition of emotional disorganization so as to be temporarily insane?”
“I have.”
“What is that opinion?”
“That he was temporarily insane at the time of the shooting.”
“Doctor, have you an opinion as to whether or not he was suffering from a temporary mental disorder at the time the deceased met his death so as to be unable to distinguish right from wrong?”
“I have.”
“What is your opinion?”
The Doctor hesitated here as he had the night before in his hotel room. “That the hypothetical lieutenant was probably unable to distinguish right from wrong.” He paused. “I do not think it makes too much difference,” he added, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Claude Dancer scribbling furiously.
I pushed on. “Have you an opinion as to whether or not at that time he knew, understood, and comprehended the nature and consequences of his acts?”
“I have.”
“What is that opinion?”
“That he was not.”
“Was or did not, Doctor?”
“That he did not, I mean. Thank you.”
“Do you have an opinion, Doctor, as to whether or not he was in such a state of mind that he did not have the benefit of his conscious reasoning mind, and rather was dominated by instinct and the unconscious mind?”
“I have an opinion.”
“State your opinion.”
“That he was completely dominated by instinct and the unconscious mind.”
“Now, Doctor, I ask you whether or not you have a psychiatric basis or bases for these opinions you have just expressed?”
“I have.”
“And is there in your opinion a condition presented here known to the profession of psychiatry?”
“There is.”
“Would you please explain these bases and the condition, if any, which may be known to psychiatry?”
“The condition is known to psychiatry. It is not uncommon. At the present time the nomenclature of this condition is known as dissociative reaction. The condition that you describe certainly constitutes a psychic shock. This shock disturbed the mental and emotional equilibrium of the hypothetical Lieutenant and was responsible for creating an almost overwhelming tension. In this state the one object the Lieutenant would seek would be anything, something, that would reduce or alleviate the tension. His past history indicates he is a man of action and it was natural at this time that he should turn to action. It would mean that at this time he could not consider any alternative course. It would also mean he would not be fully capable of understanding the significance of any course of action he followed. Though he might very well have been told what that significance would be he was not at this time in a state where he could fully appreciate it. At such a time the only right that this individual may understand is the right that will reduce the unbearable tension. In this instance it was responsible for certain phenomena, in other instances responsible under circumstances having similar remarkable phenomena.”
“Can you give us example?”
“This is a condition that I have seen and discussed with men who experienced it during combat. After they were out of it some time. Considerable time. Some of the most remarkable heroics take place in this state, as well as some of the most remarkable cowardice.”