Margaret Truman's Experiment in Murder (15 page)

“But it's a recognized mental illness,” Tatum said. “The medical profession knows it even if juries are slow to accept the concept. There's another potential aspect to this that should be explored.”

“Which is?”

“What we touched upon earlier, the possibility that she was controlled through this second personality.”

“Mind control?”

“Exactly. I have nothing tangible to base it on, but I'm convinced that she has absolutely no recall of anything having to do with Sedgwick's death. That sort of selective amnesia almost always involves someone else implanting it.”

“Who?”

Tatum reinforced his shrug with, “I don't know, but I'd love to find out. If it's true, it would mean that the same person who created amnesia in her also programmed her to kill Sedgwick. Why else would he bother to wipe out her memory?”

“Whew,” was all that Smith could muster.

“Yeah, I know, it sounds like a stretch, a big one, but unless you have a better theory, I'd like to pursue this one. It will mean spending more time with her.”

“That shouldn't be a problem, especially with your credentials and connections with MPD. I could name you part of the defense team.”

“No,” Tatum said. “I'd rather keep it out of official channels. If I'm involved with her defense, I'll lose my inside track at MPD. I think a better way to go is to hire me to do an independent psychological evaluation of her.”

“Consider it done. I have to admit that I'm having trouble accepting the concept of her being programmed to deliberately run down and kill her psychiatrist and have no recollection of it—the event
or
the programming. Oh, and on top of that, she has a second personality named Carla Rasmussen who actually did the deed.”

“I can't imagine why,” Tatum said through a small laugh. “But let me tell you this, Mac. I know that the media, the movie and TV people, love the subject of multiple personalities and mind control.
The Manchurian Candidate,
the Richard Gere film
Primal Fear, Sybil,
even more recently that dreadful Lindsay Lohan flick
I Know Who Killed Me
—they all make dramatic hay out of it. But it's more than a plot device. It's real for too many people, whether their childhood experiences helped develop other personalities inside them, or whether it's been induced by others. Look at the history of the CIA's experiments with innocent people as a good example of how someone can be manipulated to do someone else's bidding. It's not fiction, Mac. It's a medical reality.”

Smith didn't challenge him. His own reading on the subject of hypnosis had educated him on its potential to control certain individuals, and the knowledge that the government—
his
government—had enlisted numerous doctors and scientists to conduct experiments on unwitting subjects going back many decades.

He'd seen some of the movies Tatum had mentioned and had read books about mind control. Once he and Annabel were introduced to Tatum's immersion in medical hypnosis, Mac had broadened his knowledge but never completely lost his skepticism. Nevertheless, its potential use to trial lawyers was what had prompted him to bring Tatum in to teach a seminar at GW on the subject.

But all the experiments involving the control of the mind that Smith had read about were conceived, funded, and conducted by the government. If Tatum's thesis was right, then someone with a grudge against Mark Sedgwick and who was skilled in the use of hypnosis used that knowledge to manipulate Sheila into killing him. As much as Smith bought into the notion that people could be brainwashed, applying it to Sheila Klaus was hard to accept.

“You stopped in to see her after I left?” Tatum asked.

“Yes.”

“How was she?”

“Upset, as you can imagine. She continues to insist that she had nothing to do with Sedgwick's murder and that she never took a trip with Sedgwick, let alone four of them.”

Tatum's expression mirrored what he was thinking. There was tangible proof that she'd taken those trips with Sedgwick, yet she adamantly denied having traveled with him despite being confronted with the evidence.

Annabel whipped up a quick dinner for them. Afterward, they sat on the balcony sipping single-barrel bourbon.

“You say that the limo company in San Francisco took Sedgwick and Sheila to a psychiatric clinic in Berkeley,” Smith said.

“Right. The Lightpath Clinic.”

“Do you know anything about that clinic?”

“Just scuttlebutt. Rumor has it that it's government funded.”

“Government? What branch of government?”

“The CIA, other intelligence agencies, but that wouldn't be unusual. The CIA funds many such places, some within leading universities and hospitals. Lightpath, I'm told, is run by Sheldon Borger.”

“He is…?”

“A controversial psychiatrist in San Francisco, very rich, with lots of rich patients, handsome, very smooth, lots of white teeth. He was an OB-GYN before becoming a shrink. I met him once at a talk he gave here in D.C. hosted by a right-wing think tank.”

“What did he talk about?”

“The threat to the country by other nations and how the medical profession, particularly psychiatry, could help in the fight.”

“How could they help in the fight?” Smith asked.

“I don't recall much of what he said. I tuned out halfway through the lecture.”

“Do you think that Sheila saw him when she went with Sedgwick to San Francisco? Your limo company contact told you that Sedgwick had a female companion with him during the four rides to Berkeley.”

“I can't imagine why she would have accompanied him to that clinic. It's something I'd like to find out.”

“Think you can?” Smith asked. “She denies even going to San Francisco.”

“I'll give it my best shot. You'll have to put in a formal request to MPD to have me examine her.”

“First thing in the morning.”

“Does Sheila have any children?” Tatum asked as he and Mac waited for the elevator.

“I don't think so. I know that she was divorced and worked at GW. Left with a disability.”

“What disability?”

“I'll find out. She and Annabel were somewhat friendly. She might know, or I can check at the school.”

The elevator arrived, but Tatum hesitated stepping in. Smith cocked his head.

“I've got a feeling, Mac, that we haven't even begun to scratch the surface with Sheila Klaus.”

He entered the elevator and Smith watched the doors slowly slide shut, Tatum's words staying with him.

 

CHAPTER

20

Mac Smith met with Marie Darrow the following morning and brought her up to speed. Darrow was a short, square, curly-haired woman who seldom dressed in anything other than black suits too tight for her frame. Smith respected her intellect and ability to cut to the chase. Anything other than a concise, on-the-topic response to her questions wasn't appreciated.

“A diminished capacity defense based upon multiple personalities?” she said after Smith had covered everything he'd written on a yellow legal pad.

“At this point, Marie, it's the only defense.”

“It'll never play for a D.C. jury, not under the ALI standard.”

She was referring to a standard of legal insanity designed by the American Law Institute and adopted by the District of Columbia in the 1960s, which basically decreed that defendants must have a substantial incapacity to appreciate the criminality of their conduct, or to conform their conduct to the law. It also demanded that the mental disease or defect be a medical diagnosis.

“Besides,” she added, “the whole multiple personality thing is too science fiction. Mind control? There aren't a dozen people in the District who'll buy it, unless the defendant is a congressman. We all know that their minds are controlled by lobbyists.”

Smith laughed. “You can use that in your opening statement.”

Darrow played with an errant curl on her forehead. “Think she'll buy me as her counsel?”

“If she doesn't, it's not because of you. When I was with her yesterday, she kept saying she doesn't need a lawyer because she hasn't done anything.”

“Despite the evidence?”

A nod from Smith. “I laid out for her what the evidence is so far. You're meeting her at two?”

“Right.”

“Nic Tatum is with her now.”

“Tell me more about this guy Tatum.”

“As I said, he's a psychologist and friend. He was with MPD for a few years, now practices solo. He knows medical hypnosis inside and out.”

“And he's the one who's come up with the multiple personality theory.”

“Right.”

“We'll need shrinks with bigger and better credentials than that.”

“Never a problem finding shrinks who'll testify if the fee is high enough.”

“Dueling shrinks on the witness stand,” Darrow said scornfully. “I love it. There's plenty of them who'll debunk the whole multiple personality and mind control notion.”

She was right, of course, but Smith didn't see anything to be gained by discussing it further. “Tatum will be contacting me once he's finished with Sheila,” he said. “I'll let you know what he says before you meet with her this afternoon.”

*   *   *

Smith had arranged for Tatum to spend an hour with Sheila Klaus. Tatum was in the interrogation room when she was brought in by a male officer and a matron. Tatum had requested and was given a room without two-way glass, or audio- and video-recording equipment. He'd also asked for two comfortable chairs which, after an initial denial, were removed from a reception area and delivered.

Sheila looked totally confused. Dressed in prison garb, she was frail, her eyes red from crying.

“Would you like me to stay?” the matron asked.

“That won't be necessary,” Tatum said, “but thank you.”

“We'll be right outside,” the matron said ominously.

“Please, have a seat,” Tatum told Sheila.

She hesitated, as though to take the chair would in some way render her vulnerable.

“There's nothing to fear,” Tatum said. “I'm Dr. Tatum, Nicholas Tatum. We've met a few times.”

“I know,” she said as she perched on the edge of the seat.

“I'm working with Mac Smith. He spent time with you yesterday.”

She didn't respond.

“The reason I'm with you today, Sheila, is to try and understand you and the situation you're facing.”

She burst into tears. Tatum handed her a tissue and waited until her tears had subsided.

“The first time we met, I was with detectives who came to your house. I used to be with MPD, but I left years ago. I'm here now to help you.”

“But why am I here?” she said, leaning forward. Tatum thought she might slip off the chair. “They keep saying I killed Dr. Sedgwick. That isn't true.” She stood and shouted, “That isn't true!”

Tatum got up and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It's all right, Sheila. I believe you.”

That simple statement caused her to look at him with wide-open eyes. “You do?” she said.

“Sit down, Sheila, and let me ask you a few questions that might help get to the bottom of this. One of the problems is that the police have evidence that you took trips with Dr. Sedgwick to San Francisco and—”

“No, I did not.”

“You don't remember ever going there with him?”

She shook her head. “He was a nice man. He was my doctor. But they make it sound as though we were having an affair. That wasn't true. We never…”

She'd become agitated again, and Tatum gave her time to calm down before continuing.

“Have you ever been hypnotized, Sheila?” he asked.

She looked at him quizzically. “Of course not. I can't be.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because … because—”

“Hypnosis is a good thing,” he said. “I use it in my practice to help people feel better, to remember things they sometimes forget. I know that you can't be hypnotized, but would you allow me to try?”

“Why are we doing this?” she asked.

“Can I try? It will help you relax.”

He didn't wait for an answer. He took a small makeup mirror he'd had on his lap and held it up to her face.

“No,” she said.

“I just want you to look in the mirror, Sheila, and concentrate. You're relaxed and calm and enjoying a pleasant place. I want you to take some deep breaths and picture yourself on a sunny beach, a peaceful place where everything is serene.”

She did as instructed.

“That's it,” Tatum said, bringing the mirror closer to her. “Relax, enjoy deep relaxation. I'm going to count from one to ten, and when I reach ten, you'll be completely relaxed. That's right. One … two … three…”

He didn't have to count further. A serene expression crossed her face and she closed her eyes.

Tatum reached out and touched her right arm. “Your arm is very light, Sheila, like it has a helium balloon attached to it. Let it float up. That's good.”

Her arm slowly rose and remained suspended.

“Do you know where you are?” Tatum asked.

“I'm with…”

“Yes?”

She opened her eyes, and the change was immediate and startling to Tatum. What had been a frightened expression turned hard. A cynical smile crossed her face.

“Sheila?” Tatum asked.

“Go ahead,” a low voice challenged. “Try me.”

“Try you?”

Sheila laughed. “She's so pathetic.”

“Who's pathetic?”

“Little Miss Muffet. She's a wimp.”

Tatum took a moment to collect his thoughts. When he had, he said, “Am I talking to Carla?”

Another laugh from her. “What do you care?” she said.