"Wonderful. Just wonderful. Thanks, Harry Rex."
"Don't mention it. Look, Jake, I sorta hate to bring this up."
"I can't wait."
"You know I hate Buckley. Hate him worse than you do. But me and Musgrove get along okay. I can talk to Mus-grove. I was thinking last night that it might be a good idea to approach them-me through Musgrove-and explore the possibilities of a plea bargain."
"No!"
"Listen, Jake. What harm will it do? None! If you can plead him guilty to murder with no gas chamber, then you know you have saved his life."
"No!"
"Look, Jake. Your man is about forty-eight hours away from a death penalty conviction. If you don't believe that, then you're blind, Jake. My blind friend."
"Why should Buckley cut a deal? He's got us on the ropes."
"Maybe he won't. But let me at least find out."
"No, Harry Rex. Forget it."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rodeheaver returned to his seat after the recess, and Jake looked at him from behind the podium. In his brief legal career, he had never won an argument, in court or out, with an expert witness. And the way his luck was running, he decided not to argue with this one.
"Dr. Rodeheaver, psychiatry is the study of the human mind, is it not?"
"It is."
"And it is an inexact science at best, is it not?"
"That is correct."
"You might examine a person and reach a diagnosis, and the next psychiatrist might reach a completely different diagnosis?"
"That's possible, yes."
"In fact, you could have ten psychiatrists examine a mental patient, and arrive at ten different opinions about what's wrong with the patient."
"That's unlikely."
"But it could happen, couldn't it, Doctor?"
"Yes, it could. Just like legal opinions, I guess."
"But we're not dealing with legal opinions in this case, are we, Doctor?"
"No."
"The truth is, Doctor, in many cases psychiatry cannot tell us what is wrong with a person's mind?"
"That is true."
"And psychiatrists disagree all the time, don't they, Doctor?"
"Of course."
"Now, who do you work for, Doctor?"
"The State of Mississippi."
"And for how long?"
"Eleven years."
"And who is prosecuting Mr. HaDey?"
"The State of Mississippi."
"During your eleven-year career with the State, how many times have you testified in trials where the insanity defense was used?"
Rodeheaver thought for a moment. "I think this is my forty-third trial."
Jake checked something in a file and eyed the doctor
with a nasty little smile. "Are you sure it's not your forty-sixth?"
"It could be, yes. I'm not certain."
The courtroom became still. Buckley and Musgrove hovered over their legal pads, but watched their witness carefully.
"Forty-six times you've testified for the State in insanity trials?"
"If you say so."
"And forty-six times you've testified that the defendant was not legally insane. Correct, Doctor?"
"I'm not sure."
"Well, let me make it simple. You've testified forty-six times, and forty-six times it has been your opinion the defendant was not legally insane. Correct?"
Rodeheaver squirmed just a little, and a hint of discomfort broke around his eyes. "I'm not sure."
"You've never seen a legally insane criminal defendant, have you, Doctor?"
"Of course I have."
"Good. Would you then, please, sir, tell us the name of the defendant and where he was tried?"
Buckley rose and buttoned his coat. "Your Honor, the State objects to these questions. Dr. Rodeheaver cannot be required to remember the names and places of the trials he has testified in."
"Overruled, Sit down. Answer the question, Doctor."
Rodeheaver breathed deeply and studied the ceiling. Jake glanced at the jurors. They were awake and waiting on an answer.
"I can't remember," he finally said.
Jake lifted a thick stack of papers and waved it at the witness. "Could it be, Doctor, that the reason you can't remember is that in eleven years, forty-six trials, you have never testified in favor of the defendant?"
"I honestly can't remember."
"Can you honestly name us one trial in which you found the defendant to be legally insane?"
"I'm sure there are some."
"Yes or no, Doctor. One trial?"
The expert looked briefly at the D.A. "No. My memory fails me. I cannot at this time."
Jake walked slowly to the defense table and picked up a thick file.
"Dr. Rodeheaver, do you recall testifying in the trial of a man by the name of Danny Booker in McMurphy County in December of 1975? A rather gruesome double homicide?"
"Yes, I recall that trial."
"And you testified to the effect that he was not legally insane, did you not?"
"That is correct."
"Do you recall how many psychiatrists testified in his behalf?"
"Not exactly. There were several."
"Do the names Noel McClacky, M.D.; O.G. McGuire, M.D.; and Lou Watson, M.D., ring a bell?"
"Yes."
"They're all psychiatrists, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"They're all qualified, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"And they all examined Mr. Booker and testified at trial that in their opinions the poor man was legally insane?"
"That's correct."
"And you testified he was not legally insane?"
"That's correct."
"How many other doctors supported your position?"
"None, that I recall."
"So it was three against one?"
"Yes, but I'm still convinced I was right."
"I see. What did the jury do, Doctor?"
"He, uh, was found not guilty by reason of insanity."
"Thank you. Now, Dr. Rodeheaver, you're the head doctor at Whitfield, aren't you?"
"Yes, so to speak."
"Are you directly or indirectly responsible for the treatment of every patient at Whitfield?"
"I'm directly responsible, Mr. Brigance. I may not personally see every patient, but their doctors are under my supervision."
"Thank you. Doctor, where is Danny Booker today?"
Rodeheaver shot a desperate look at Buckley, and immediately covered it with a warm, relaxed grin for the jury. He hesitated for a few seconds, then hesitated one second too long.
"He's at Whitfield, isn't he?" Jake asked in a tone of voice that informed everyone that the answer was yes.
"I believe so," Rodeheaver said.
"So, he's directly under your care, then, Doctor?"
"I suppose."
"And what is his diagnosis, Doctor?"
"I really don't know. I have a lot of patients and-"
"Paranoid schizophrenic?"
"It's possible, yes."
Jake walked backward and sat on the railing. He turned up the volume. "Now, Doctor, I want to make this clear for the jury. In 1975 you testified that Danny Booker was legally sane and understood exactly what he was doing when he committed his crime, and the jury disagreed with you and found him not guilty, and since that time he has been a patient in your hospital, under your supervision, and treated by you as a paranoid schizophrenic. Is that correct?"