Saving Max (24 page)

A murmur starts in the crowd. The judge casts a warning look, and silence falls once again.

“Given the decedent’s history, Doctor,” says Sevillas, “is it possible that the puncture wounds you observed could have been self-inflicted?” Sevillas takes the crime photos from a folder on the desk, but forgets that Max is sitting next to him. He rushes to the witness stand and hands them to Smythe, but
not soon enough to evade Max’s notice. The stricken look on the boy’s face is almost more than he can bear.

Smythe studies the photographs. “I was informed that the decedent had these tendencies for self-abuse. And I must admit that I have considered at great length what impact this may have had on the wounds I observed after his death.” He pauses. “I would like to preface what I say by noting that I have carefully studied the pertinent photographs and my autopsy notes on this issue. My answer is that yes, although it is highly unlikely, these wounds could have been self-inflicted. It is possible.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sevillas says quickly, avoiding the asphyxiation issue for the moment. “Now, onto another area. I see here that you admit you have never seen the alleged murder weapon Counsel has referred to—is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And if the police had managed to retain the object, a lab would have been able to identify whatever prints were on it. In turn, they could have confirmed whether those fingerprints matched those of the decedent and helped you ascertain if the comb was used by the decedent to cause his own death. Is that correct?”

Langley jumps up. “Your Honor! Objection—talk about calling for speculation. ‘If he saw, he might…’”

“Withdrawn.” Sevillas turns to the witness. “Doctor, isn’t it true that if the alleged object were on the scene when you arrived, you would have been able to observe a ridge, or latent—if either were present—which the police could then compare to fingerprints of Jonas, my client or another third party?”

“It is, of course, possible to obtain fingerprints from a metal object under the proper circumstances.”

“Let me ask you something else,” says Sevillas. “Given that
there was no object provided you by the police to compare to the wounds you observed, you did not have a means of determining if my client’s fingerprints were present on such an object, did you?”

Smythe gives him a smile. “Of course not, Mr. Sevillas.”

“And you found no latent fingerprints on the body?”

“No. That is very rare under the best of circumstances, and we are simply not equipped for that kind of analysis.”

“Fine,” says Sevillas. “Let me look at my notes. It says here that you established the primary cause of death as the severing of both the femoral artery and the femoral vein, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us why death would occur more quickly if both the artery and vein are punctured simultaneously?”

“Certainly,” he says. “As I mentioned previously, puncturing the femoral artery causes a massive arterial spray, which would have resulted in death within about ten to fifteen minutes. However, by also puncturing the femoral vein, air then enters the vein from the outside and causes an embolism, which causes death to occur in mere minutes.”

“I see. And what happens when an embolism occurs?”

Smythe leans back. “When both are punctured in the way I have described, the victim goes into shock and becomes unconscious. Although it is not possible to pinpoint the exact moment any given person will become unconscious by virtue of an autopsy, it is certain that death would take only a few minutes at most.”

Sevillas walks the length of the judge’s bench. “And what happens physically to the body after a person is unconscious and death occurs?”

“The lungs fail and the heart, although it is beating extremely fast, has no blood to pump because it all flows out
of the wounds I mentioned earlier. This results in oxygen starvation and, usually, cardiac arrest and failure.”

The courtroom is silent.

“Doctor, you also mentioned that the decedent had petechial hemorrhaging,” says Sevillas. “What does that mean?”

The doctor shrugs. “It means that the autopsy revealed that the decedent had ruptured blood vessels in the eyes—and actually, in his face as well.”

“Is this common?”

“Yes. It is evidence that someone has experienced a heart attack prior to death.”

“So, it is your opinion that Jonas Morrison also sustained a heart attack before he died?”

“Yes.”

“Doctor, would you expect to encounter petechial hemorrhaging in any other situation?”

Smythe looks up. “I’m not sure I understand what you are asking.”

“Is petechial hemorrhaging invariably present when a decedent has been, let’s say, asphyxiated?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Let me ask you this,” says Sevillas. “Since petechial hemorrhaging is typical of a strangulation victim and is also, according to you, a sign in this case that the Morrison boy suffered a heart attack as a result of an air embolism—” he pauses a moment “—how are we to know which caused the death of Jonas Morrison?”

Smythe raises an eyebrow. “An interesting question.”

“In fact, Doctor, do you not agree with me that, given the angle of the wounds and other observations you have made—including that of extensive petechial hemorrhaging—you cannot tell us with absolute certainty whether the decedent’s actual death was caused by his own self-inflicted wounds or
whether he was killed by someone who might have severed the arteries, as well as asphyxiated him simultaneously?”

Smythe takes a deep breath. He then answers slowly and resolutely. “I cannot be absolutely certain whether the young man was killed only by the severing of the femoral artery and vein—which I said earlier could have been self-inflicted—but which now, as you so rightly explain, does not rule out the possibility of concomitant asphyxiation.” He pauses. “It is possible that the death could also have resulted from the killer administrating the fatal puncture wounds in conjunction with the asphyxiation.”

Sevillas sighs. “Thank you, Doctor. I have one more area of questioning, and then we’ll let you go.” He walks back to the defense table and picks up a stapled set of papers, which he then hands to Smythe. “Please take a look at these for me, would you?” While Smythe studies the documents, Sevillas takes a copy over to Langley.

He turns back to the witness. “Now, Dr. Smythe, do you recognize what has been put before you?”

Smythe flips the page over and looks up. “Yes, although I have not seen this document before.”

“What is it?”

“It appears to be a toxicology report performed on a blood sample of one Max Parkman.”

“Objection, Your Honor!” Langley is on his feet. “This has absolutely no relevance to this case and certainly should not be put in through this witness.”

Hempstead motions impatiently for Sevillas’s copy of the document. As she reads it, her expression is skeptical. “All right, Mr. Sevillas. I’m intensely curious to see how you purport to link this up.”

Sevillas clasps his hands in front of him. “Your Honor, it has been suggested by other witnesses that Max Parkman had
a history of violent behavior with the decedent and that he was increasingly labile during his stay at Maitland.” He takes a deep breath. “Dr. Smythe is fully qualified to look at the toxicology report issued pursuant to Jonas Morrison’s autopsy and to compare those results with what was in Max Parkman’s blood, which we believe will give an entirely new meaning to the facts of this case.”

“Keep talking, Mr. Sevillas,” she says. “You’re not there yet.”

“It is the defense’s contention that another suspect exists in this case—Maitland.”

The courtroom is still. Langley is on his feet again. “Your Honor—this is preposterous!”

She waves him away. “Continue.”

“We issued a subpoena for one Dr. Fastow of Maitland, the psychopharmacologist who gave Max Parkman and Jonas Morrison the same medication. And—” he pauses dramatically “—we will put on witnesses and show that this medication was experimental in nature and had graveside effects, which may explain many, if not all, of the behaviors of Max Parkman. In addition, we believe that it is entirely possible that Dr. Fastow had ample motive and opportunity to murder Jonas Morrison for fear that his actions would be discovered. It also would explain why Max was found in Jonas’s room. Fastow was trying to set up Max to take the blame—or worse. It is entirely plausible that he planned to kill Max, too, but was scared off when he heard Ms. Parkman coming down the hallway.”

The judge makes a note and then stares at him. “All that may be true, Mr. Sevillas, but you know very well that it isn’t the M.E.’s specific area of expertise. If you want to introduce that report, you had better get Dr. Fastow down here and
quick. Mr. Langley has informed me that he has one final witness to put on today, and then you’re up.”

Sevillas shakes his head. “I can’t do that, Judge.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I subpoenaed him to appear this morning, and I just received word that he will not be coming to the courtroom.”

The judge rubs her temples. “And why would that be, Mr. Sevillas?”

“It appears that Dr. Fastow has left the country. We believe that his flight bolsters our claim that he could well have been the murderer of Jonas Morrison. In fact, we are in the process of having criminal charges brought against him. This may be moot now that he has left the country, but if he is found, we will have him brought to justice.”

Hempstead snaps her head toward the bailiff. “Get someone over to that hospital and find Dr. Fastow. Until then, this court is recessed. Dr. Smythe, stay close. It won’t be long.”

As the airplane makes its approach into Des Moines, Danielle’s nerves thrum. She is finally at the end of Marianne’s CDs—a good thing, because her laptop is almost out of juice.

Danielle inserts the final CD into her laptop with trembling hands. This is Marianne’s last record before she and
Jonas went to Maitland. She hopes that Doaks has found additional evidence in Marianne’s hotel room. What she has is damning, but it isn’t murder. Not yet.

“All rise!”

Shuffling feet scrape the linoleum floor like the rumblings of a dawn cattle call. The courtroom is packed to capacity now that word has leaked from the D.A.’s office that Marianne Morrison will be taking the stand. Langley organizes his notes as Marianne sits calmly in her front-row seat. Sevillas has given up on either Danielle or Doaks showing up in time. After the beating Sevillas has taken today, he is fed up with Langley’s snide smirks.

Max and Georgia are back in the courtroom. Sevillas hopes that Georgia has managed to calm Max down. He leans over and puts an arm around the boy’s thin shoulders. “Don’t worry, son. I’ll handle things until she gets here. I’m not bad at this, you know.”

Max gives him a half smile. It’s better than nothing. Georgia squeezes Max’s hand from the other side. Sandwiched between them, he seems to be comforted.

“Counsel, please approach,” says Hempstead. They stride to the bench. The judge looks at them over her steel-gray glasses. “Welcome back, gentlemen. By my watch, it is now two twenty-five. Mr. Langley, do you have an educated guess when we might conclude the festivities today?”

Langley bobs his head. “Yes, Your Honor. The State plans to call no more witnesses after Ms. Morrison, which will conclude our testimony on the proof-evident and bail aspects
of the case.” He casts a sly glance at Sevillas. “Of course, we can’t speak for the defense.”

“Counselor?”

Sevillas clears his throat. “Judge, as the District Attorney has managed to spend the entire day putting on his version of the evidence, it appears that the defense will not have the opportunity to put on its case until tomorrow.”

Hempstead gives him an edgy look. “I don’t see it that way at all, Mr. Sevillas. Now that I’ve been forced to postpone my other trial until tomorrow morning, I’m perfectly willing to go late into the evening. It seems to me that what you lack here is one of your defendants to put on the stand. Or perhaps you would like to swear in young Mr. Parkman?”

Sevillas turns to look at Max. His eyes beg like those of a hungry child on a street corner. Sevillas walks back to the defense table. Max grabs his arm. “Tony, no!” he hisses. “I can’t!” Sevillas gives him a comforting nod and turns to the judge. “We will not be putting Max Parkman on the stand.”

“Very well, then. Mr. Langley, let’s speed this up.”

Langley shifts uncomfortably. “Your Honor, we’re making every effort to be as brief and succinct as possible.”

The judge taps her fingernails, as if the concept of a lawyer being succinct is as likely as her levitating from the bench and flying around the room. She nods dismissively. Both men return to their battle stations. “Let’s play ball. Call your next witness.”

Langley springs up. “The State calls Marianne Morrison to the stand.” Max blanches. Sevillas watches as Langley makes a production out of helping her out of her chair and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, as if she lacks sufficient motor ability to propel herself forward. He leads her slowly to the witness stand. Marianne wears a black-and-white hounds-
tooth suit, her hair sprayed into a severe helmet. Her white blouse is simple and professional. She stands before the bailiff, Bible in hand.

“Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

She looks at the judge. “I do.” Her voice is clear. With that, she clasps her hands and mounts the steps to the witness stand.

“Ms. Morrison, could you give us some general information about yourself?”

Marianne smoothes her pageboy, which has not a hair out of place. “I’d be happy to. I was born in Pennsylvania. My father was a sergeant in the United States Army and my mother was a homemaker—just like me.” She glances at the judge. “Once I married, I devoted my life to making a happy home for my husband and, after that, for Jonas. My husband was a physician until he passed away.”

“Now, Ms. Morrison, was Jonas your only child?”

Marianne’s eyes look as if someone has poured thimblefuls of water into them. Whole droplets glide down her cheeks. She pulls a simple lace square from her skirt and dabs at each eye. “Yes, Mr. Langley.” Her voice quivers. “Jonas was the only baby I ever had. He was the light of my life, my only reason for living after my husband was taken from me.”

Langley heaves a theatrical sigh. Sevillas’s stomach threatens to drop low in his gut.

“Ms. Morrison,” asks Langley, “could you give us a thumb-nail sketch of your life with Jonas?”

Marianne clasps her handkerchief. “Well, after my husband passed away, I raised Jonas all by myself. God knows it wasn’t easy—it never is for any widow—but I suppose you could say that my situation was a bit more…involved. My poor boy had his share of difficulties. He was mentally challenged, autistic,
and did not speak well.” She manages a small smile. “But somehow we muddled through, just the two of us.”

“Would you call yourself a devoted mother?”

Marianne raises sad, blue eyes. “I don’t customarily engage in self-aggrandizement, Mr. Langley. But I have to say that if there’s one thing I’ve done well, it’s to be the best mother I could be. Children are a gift, not a burden. Even with all of Jonas’s problems, I can honestly say that being his mother has been the greatest honor and blessing of my life.” Eyes brimming, she casts a pained glance at Hempstead, who gives her a sympathetic nod and hands her a box of tissues.

Langley gives her a few moments to collect herself. “Now, Ms. Morrison, could you tell us the circumstances which led you and Jonas to Maitland?”

Marianne draws a deep breath. “Certainly. As you may know, I attended Johns Hopkins and am a medical doctor myself. I think every mother of a special-needs child owes it to that child to remain at the forefront of all possible treatment and medication protocols.” She continues in an earnest voice. “I also made a point of identifying those doctors who specialize in autism and other neurological disorders. During my studies, I came across Maitland and decided that if anyone could help my boy, it would be them.”

“Ms. Morrison,” says Langley. “I know that the rest of our discussion today will be extremely painful for you, but I want to begin at the point when you and Jonas arrived at Maitland.”

Marianne sets her mouth. The judge’s face mirrors her expression. Not a sound comes from the courtroom, as if the spectators have voted on collective silence. Sevillas picks up his pen.

“What was your impression of Maitland when you first arrived?” asks Langley.

“I was introduced to Dr. Ebhart Hauptmann, the chief psychiatrist. We discussed Jonas’s problems, and I felt certain he was in good hands.” She leans toward the judge, a confused look on her face. “Your Honor?”

“Yes, Ms. Morrison?”

“I am reluctant to discuss whether the hospital adequately cared for Jonas, because my lawyer advised me not to.”

“That’s fine, Ms. Morrison.” Hempstead turns to Langley. “I believe the witness has answered the question, hasn’t she, Mr. Langley? Perhaps you could move on to something else.”

Langley nods. “Certainly, Your Honor. Ms. Morrison, did you spend much time with Jonas after he was admitted to Maitland?”

“Of course I did. I only left the hospital to eat and sleep.” She turns to the judge. “I couldn’t stand to leave my baby alone.”

“And would you say you spent more time with Jonas than any other mother with a child on the unit?”

“I certainly did.”

“And during Jonas’s stay, did you have occasion to meet the defendant, Ms. Parkman?”

“Yes.”

“Can you explain the circumstances of your first meeting with Ms. Parkman and how your relationship, if any, developed from that point on?”

“Well, I noticed that Ms. Parkman and I were staying at the same hotel and that our children were on the same unit, so I introduced myself. You know,” she says in a confidential tone, “there is a certain bond between mothers who have children with special needs. We understand each other’s pain and are uniquely situated to comfort and support one another.”

“Please go on, Ms. Morrison.”

“I was naive, I suppose. I always look for the good in people, and I thought Danielle was such a wonderful woman.” She looks earnestly at the judge. “She seemed devoted to her son—as I was—and I made a concerted effort to befriend her and Max.”

Langley moves forward. “What do you mean by that?”

Sevillas freezes. Here it comes.

Marianne shakes her head. “It was just so obvious the poor woman had so much to bear. Max was severely psychotic and violent—”

Max jumps to his feet. “You’re a liar!”

Sevillas shoves Max down into his chair and jumps up. “Objection! Are we now going to let the mother of the decedent give an expert opinion on my client’s mental health?” He gives Marianne a warning look. She smiles back politely.

“Counsel, control your client. And Ms. Morrison,” says the judge gently. “Our rules of evidence do not permit you to comment upon the psychiatric condition of the defendant. Perhaps you could just tell us what you observed.”

“Well,” Marianne says, “I do think I’m qualified to provide an opinion, given my background, but, of course, Your Honor, I’ll do whatever you tell me to.” She turns back to Langley, who is poised to rephrase his question.

“Ms. Morrison, how often did you see Ms. Parkman once you made her acquaintance?”

“We spent a considerable amount of time together on a daily basis. We often went to lunch or dinner together. Of course, I was very busy with Dr. Hauptmann and the other doctors, orienting them to Jonas’s various disorders.”

“Would you say that the two of you became friends?”

Marianne looks at Hempstead, who peers at her over her glasses. “In my opinion, we became very good friends in a
short period of time.” Her blue eyes appear open and honest. “Here was this woman, so sweet, caring and intelligent—and also a lawyer—that I trusted her implicitly. When Max became so psychotic, Danielle really began to unravel—”

Max jumps to his feet. “That’s not true!”

The judge raps her gavel sharply. “Bailiff, remove Mr. Parkman from the courtroom. I’ve had enough of his outbursts.”

“But Your Honor!” says Sevillas.

Hempstead holds up her hand as Max is escorted by the bailiff outside the courtroom. Georgia follows them. The judge then turns to Marianne. “And Mrs. Morrison, please try to limit your testimony to the facts, not your opinion of the defendant’s psychiatric problems.”

“Please forgive me, Your Honor,” she says quickly. “It won’t happen again.”

Hempstead nods at Langley to continue.

“Could you describe a typical day at Maitland for us?”

Marianne holds a water glass to her pink lips and takes a sip. “Well, I arrived every day at seven o’clock. That way, I could catch Dr. Hauptmann on his morning rounds and get an update on Jonas. After we conferred, I would take Jonas to the cafeteria for breakfast. Then we’d come back, sit on the couch and visit.” She looks at the judge. “Typically, Danielle would not arrive until after nine. Then I would bring her up to date on what was going on with Max….”

Langley looks at her in mock surprise. “You would bring Ms. Parkman up to date on her own son?”

Marianne nods. “Well, of course. For whatever reason, the doctors had banned Danielle from seeing her son except for short visits twice a day, while I had free access to Jonas. So when she finally came in, I’d let her know how Max looked, what he was doing—that kind of thing.”

Sevillas stares at his legal pad.

“And then?”

“Then Danielle and I would sit and have a cup of coffee.”

“Where was Jonas during this time?”

“Next to me, of course.”

“And Max Parkman?”

“In the beginning, he sat across from Danielle, but later he was almost always in his room.” She turns to the judge. “I won’t say what kind of psychiatric problems that child has, because you told me not to, but just let me say that he was on enormous amounts of psychotropic medication.”

Hempstead waves Sevillas off. “Go on, Ms. Morrison.”

“Max slept a lot during the day,” she says. “My understanding from the nurses is that he was up all night ranting and then required sedation. I’m sure that’s why he was so tired—”

“Objection again, Your Honor!” Sevillas stands. “Is it possible for the witness to tell us only what she observed instead of relying on hearsay to speculate upon Max Parkman’s activities?”

“Judge,” says Langley, the word dripping in innocence, “please forgive Mrs. Morrison. She’s just trying to answer as fulsomely as possible.” He turns to Marianne. “Only your actual observations, please, Mrs. Morrison.”

Marianne nods, chastened. “I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s move on to something else.” Langley’s eyes remind Sevillas of a cockroach scuttling across the floor. “Please relate your specific observations of the interactions between Max Parkman and your son.”

Marianne straightens her skirt. “Let’s see. Given the amount of time they spent with us, Jonas naturally tried to befriend them.” Her face brightens. “Jonas was such a warm, loving boy, a true innocent. He loved people. Just a heart of gold, that’s all.” Hempstead gives her a commiserating look. “Jonas
actually became quite attached to Max.” She sighs. “From the beginning, Max was very unkind in the way he rejected Jonas’s overtures. I could tell that for some unknown reason, Max hated Jonas.”

“Judge, this is preposterous.” Sevillas stalks toward the bench. “Now she’s testifying about how my client felt!”

Langley’s voice is as mild as milk. “No, Tony, she’s testifying about what she thought your client was feeling.”

The judge rolls her eyes. “That’s enough. Mr. Langley, help the witness by asking more specific questions. And Mr. Sevillas,” she says equably, “understand that I’m going to allow the State considerable latitude with this witness. Remember that I am perfectly capable of sifting out proper from improper testimony. You’re just going to have to trust me on that.”

Sevillas would rather hand over his newborn to the antichrist. “Yes, Judge.”

She turns again to Sevillas. “And I’d like to remind you, Counselor, that if your other client were here, she would be able to give us her own observations about the relationship between her son and the decedent, now wouldn’t she?”