“What did you do then, Dr. Kaplan?”
“I took care of Mrs. Temple. She was in a state of acute hysteria. I was very concerned about her.”
“Dr. Kaplan, did you have a previous discussion with Mrs. Temple about discontinuing therapy treatments?”
“I did. I told her I thought they were a waste of time.”
“What was Mrs. Temple’s reaction to that?”
Dr. Kaplan looked over at Jill Temple and said, “Her reaction was very unusual. She insisted that we keep trying.” He hesitated. “Since I am under oath and since this inquest jury is interested in hearing the truth, I feel there is something I am obligated to say.”
A complete hush had fallen over the room. Jill was staring at him. Dr. Kaplan turned toward the jury box.
“I would like to say, for the record, that Mrs. Temple is probably the finest and bravest woman I have ever had the honor to know.” Every eye in the courtroom turned toward Jill. “The first time her husband suffered a stroke, none of us thought he had a chance of recovery. Well, she nursed him back to health single-handedly. She did for him what no doctor I know could have done. I could never begin to describe to you her devotion or dedication to her husband.” He looked over to where Jill was sitting and said, “She is an inspiration to all of us.”
The spectators broke out into applause.
“That will be all, Doctor,” the inquest examiner said. “I would like to call Mrs. Temple to the stand.”
They watched as Jill rose and slowly walked over to the witness stand to be sworn in.
“I know what an ordeal this is for you, Mrs. Temple, and I will try to get it over with as quickly as possible.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was low.
“When Dr. Kaplan said he wanted to discontinue the therapy treatments, why did you want to go ahead with them?”
She looked up at him and he could see the deep pain in her eyes. “Because I wanted my husband to have every chance to get well again. Toby loved life, and I wanted to bring him back to it. I—” Her voice faltered, but she went on. “I had to help him myself.”
“On the day of your husband’s death, the physiotherapist came to the house, and you sent him away.”
“Yes.”
“Yet, earlier, Mrs. Temple, you said that you wanted those treatments to continue. Can you explain your action?”
“It’s very simple. I felt that our love was the only thing strong enough to heal Toby. It had healed him before…” She broke off, unable to continue. Then, visibly steeling herself, she continued in a harsh voice, “I had to let him know how much I loved him, how much I wanted him to get well again.”
Everyone in the courtroom was leaning forward, straining to hear every word.
“Would you tell us what happened on the morning of the accident?”
There was a silence that lasted for a full minute while Jill gathered her strength, and then she spoke. “I went into Toby’s room. He seemed so glad to see me. I told him that I was going to take him to the pool myself, that I was going to make him well again. I put on a bathing suit so that I could work with him in the water. When I started to lift him off the bed into his wheelchair, I—I became faint. I suppose I should have realized then that I wasn’t physically strong enough to do what I was trying to do. But I couldn’t stop. Not if it was going to help him. I put him in the wheelchair and talked to him all the way down to the pool. I wheeled him to the edge….”
She stopped, and there was a breathless hush in the room. The only sound was the susurration of the reporters’ pens as they frantically scribbled on their shorthand pads.
“I reached down to undo the straps that held Toby in the wheelchair, and I felt faint again and started to fall. I—I must have accidentally released the brake. The chair started to roll into the pool. I tried to grab it, but it—it went into the pool with—with Toby strapped into it.” Her voice was choked. “I jumped into the pool after him and fought to free him, but the straps were too tight. I tried to lift the chair out of the water, but it was—it was too heavy. It…was…just…too…heavy.” She closed her eyes a moment to hide her deep anguish. Then, almost in a whisper, “I tried to help Toby, and I killed him.”
It took the inquest jury less than three minutes to reach a verdict: Toby Temple had died in an accident.
Clifton Lawrence sat in the back of the courtroom and listened to the verdict. He was certain that Jill had murdered Toby. But there was no way to prove it. She had gotten away with it.
The case was closed.
36
The funeral was standing room only. It was held at Forest Lawn on a sunny August morning, on the day Toby Temple was to have started his new television series. There were thousands of people milling about the lovely, rolling grounds, trying to get a look at all the celebrities who were there to pay their last respects. Television cameramen photographed the funeral services in long shots and zoomed in for closeups of the stars and producers and directors who were at the graveside. The President of the United States had sent an emissary. There were governors present, studio heads, presidents of large corporations, and representatives from every guild that Toby had belong to: SAG and AFTRA and ASCAP and AGVA. The president of the Beverly Hills branch of the Veterans of Foreign Wars was there in full uniform. There were contingents from the local police and fire departments.
And the little people were there. The grips and prop men and extras and stunt men who had worked with Toby Temple. The wardrobe mistresses and the best boys and the go-fers and the gaffers and the assistant directors. And there were others, and all of them had come to pay homage to a great American. O’Hanlon and Rainger were there, remembering the skinny little kid who had walked into their office at Twentieth Century-Fox. I understand you fellas are going to write some jokes for me…. He uses his hands like he’s chopping wood. Maybe we could write a woodchopper act for him…. He pushes too hard…. Jesus, with that material—wouldn’t you?…A comic opens funny doors. A comedian opens doors funny. And Toby Temple had worked and learned and gone to the top. He was a prick, Rainger was thinking. But he was our prick.