by Adam Zorzi
“Our deal. Waiting for the CA to raise competency makes it look like you have even more to hide. Off to Petersburg. A judge who gets a whiff of a delusional defendant? Off to Petersburg.”
“You're sending me there, too.” Dan wanted to cry.
“Lamb, I'm going to climb all over everyone's asses every two or three months to force a hearing on your progress. I'm going to be on your shrinks to help you past your delusion. The CA is running for re-election and is going to be out glad-handing. The judge is going to forget you as soon as your case disappears from his docket. No one other than me is going to hustle things along at Petersburg. You're damned lucky you can afford me. No public defender would be all that interested in hand-holding in addition to an oversized case load. So, deal?”
The front doorbell rang.
Dan didn't move to answer the door.
“Still hiding, Lamb?”
“No. It's Monika Traymore, Jill's so-called friend and neighborhood gossip. Your car's been here long enough for her to make it her business to introduce herself.”
“Damn. This is when I hate cell phones.”
What? Had Lombardi suddenly lost her mind, too?
“Don't look so panicked, Lamb. In the pre-cell era, I would show a little skin and answer the door myself in an alluring pose while you were theoretically upstairs in the shower. No fun anymore. The probability that the Monika Traymores of the world have their cell phones ready to snap a pic or video to post to Instagram and Tumblr ruins it. My credibility in this case would be shot with the jury pool. Not that you'll need one.”
“Wouldn't you be disbarred?” Dan wondered if Lombardi was joking.
“For what? Screwing a client? No.”
He had to get the picture of a naked Lombardi out of his head. Monika could ring the doorbell all afternoon, but he was rooted to this spot.
CHAPTER
SIXTY-SIX
Helpless. Dan would be completely dependent on Lombardi to get him discharged from Commonwealth Psych. His family could lobby for him, but that might backfire. There were cases in the news where families of people who were obviously crazy like that movie shooter in Colorado or guilty like Scott Peterson petitioned for the release of their relative. Not that he was in that category.
Dan put his head in his hands. That girl with all the tattoos and handcuffed to a chair at Richmond Memorial Hospital. She was waiting for her bus to Petersburg. She'd said it was better than jail. She'd said it was a psych hospital that just wasn't as clean or well-staffed as where they were. She'd also said patients weren't treated. What if he didn't become competent? She had, though. She said she was going in order to become competent for a trial for crimes she'd committed when she went off her meds. She'd done it before. Schizophrenia. He was evaluating his options based on Lombardi's brashness and the opinion of a schizophrenic patient he'd met in a psych hospital. The nightmare was getting worse.
“Mr. Ramsay is not receiving.” The front door slammed shut.
Lombardi's voice sounded far away. He looked up. Her chair was empty. She'd answered the door to Monika Traymore. Within what seemed like seconds, she was back in the kitchen with all her clothes on, reseated, and ready to continue.
“Lamb, she had to go. I was polite. Next time, it's trespass. She's been warned.”
Dan didn't care about Monika Traymore. He'd stopped hearing what must have been the persistent doorbell. He was in a tunnel where he couldn't hear anything except the sound of Lombardi's voice. He was frightened. Going to Commonwealth Psych scared him more than anything else. He wanted to understand why he couldn't just plead NGRI and go to trial.
“What's the case against me?”
Lombardi raised one black eyebrow.
“CliffsNote version. No interruptions. I'm already repeating myself. Every single piece of evidence is circumstantial and can be shredded at trial in the unlikely event that you have one.
“Victim died of cardiac arrest from a liquid morphine injection. No proof the liquid morphine and morphine tablets prescribed for Jill were the same compound, no special chemical knowledge on your part, no mortar and pestle or equipment to turn tablets into liquid, and no syringe purchase. No evidence you purchased liquid morphine. Marks on your body. Home accident. Daughter can alibi.
“Weak alibi. Your vehicle had sand you didn't pick it up driving around Richmond. Witnesses recall a lone man running on the beach. Couple making out on the beach remember lifting their heads enough to see a person run by. A seventy-one-year-old man who lives along the oceanfront saw a man run up the beach and back from his living room window on a Saturday. Golf was on TV, but he watches the Golf Chanel. Can't pinpoint a time, but it plants doubt.
“The prosecution only has a list of what was in the safe deposit box when the search warrant was issued. Jewelry that once belonged to your family circulating for sale. Irrelevant and inadmissible. Non-existent gold coins. Inadmissible.”
That all sounded good. The prosecution had nothing Lombardi couldn't dismiss.
“Then why not go to trial? You just shot down every piece of evidence the prosecution has.”
Lombardi didn't reply immediately. “I'll take that water you offered. Preferably bottled.”
Dan got up, took a bottle of water from the refrigerator along with fresh squeezed orange juice, and put two glasses on the table. Lombardi could drink from the bottle or use the glass. He poured orange juice into his glass.
“Lamb, repeating myself. You couldn't even be arrested if that was the whole picture. I explained that no one in this case—not me, the CA, or the judge—can ignore the fact that you're officially delusional and occasionally psychotic. You aren't competent to stand trial.”
Bella. Could the LMFC's opinion counter the psych diagnosis? Maybe, but he didn't keep records of patients and didn't know his name. He said the law didn't accept anything other than science. A marriage counselor with paranormal experience probably wouldn't trump a string of MDs.
“Couldn't I plead NGRI and avoid a stay at Petersburg?”
“Lamb, what do you think NGRI means?”
“I've been arrested for a crime I didn't commit and I have a mental illness so I couldn't have done it.”
“No. ‘Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity’ means ‘I did it, but I was insane when I did.’ Off you go to Petersburg for the rest of your life if the jury believes you. If they don't, then death row awaits.”
Dan pressed his hands against his temples.
“I'm not John Hinckley,” he said finally.
“You're not Andrea Yates, either. Point?”
“They were obviously crazy. Insane.”
Lombardi touched him for the first time. She reached across the table and put her bony hand on his forearm. “Lamb, to normal people, you sound just as obviously insane. Hinckley had Jodie Foster. Yates had God. You have Bella.”
He felt like a gorilla had punched him in the stomach. Did his family think that, too?
Lombardi stood. “Lamb, enjoy your weekend with your daughter. Call me if you want to talk. Take your meds. Don't be stupid.”
She saw herself out. Dan had no idea how long he sat at the table. When he stood, he was drenched in sweat and he'd wet himself.
CHAPTER
SIXTY-SEVEN
Sunday morning, Dan got up early, dressed, and went to the back yard. Both newly-adopted animals, Holly and Ivan, slept in Katie's room last night. He didn't see any reason to discourage it. He called Lombardi. Katie and the animals were still sleeping.
“Lamb,” she sounded wide awake as if she'd been waiting for his call.
“I've got some questions.”
“Shoot.”
“If I'm found not competent to stand trial, how long will I stay at Petersburg?”
“Until you're competent. Indefinitely. Repeating. I'll insist on evaluations and hearings every three months. If for some reason after three to five years at Petersburg, you can't give up the idea that you and Bella had an affair, I can move to h
ave you declared Unrestorably Incompetent. Options there. Release to private hospital, group home, or family custody.
“Will the charges ever be dismissed?”
“Short answer: Not unless the real killer confesses.”
“What if I say I was wrong about Bella?”
“Didn't hear that part about my suborning perjury.”
“What if we could prove Bella is alive?”
“Anything else?”
“I left something out.” He rushed to tell her before she had time to beat him up about withholding information. He recounted his session with the LMFC.
Lombardi yawned. “This is Virginia. There's not a judge in the state who would entertain the deposition, never mind the testimony, of a paranormal therapist who doesn't know your name or have record of a session. Law accepts proven science. A string of psychiatrists have diagnosed you with a severe mental illness. Lamb, there's no way around Bella.” She yawned again. “Tomorrow at ten o'clock, Lamb. Bring your meds.”
***
Dinner was pleasant. Dan grilled tuna, made basmati rice, and served a salad with late spring vegetables Suzanne had brought from her garden. He set the picnic table outside with a cotton tablecloth and lots of citronella candles. He'd broken out a bottle of champagne to celebrate his mother's return to Richmond. Iced tea was served with the meal. Dessert was the oatmeal raisin cookies he and Katie had baked that afternoon.
Katie was eager to tell the story of Holly the cat and Ivan the dog. The woman who had lived with and loved them had moved to a nursing home that didn't allow pets. She'd tried to find a home for them together, but people could only take one or the other not both. She entrusted them to the realtor who sold her house to find them a good home or take them to a no-kill shelter. The realtor had dropped the grey tabby cat and boxer-chocolate lab mix off at the animal shelter the next day.
“I saw Ivan first. He looked so sad. He perked up a little when I put out my hand. Then the assistant manager said Ivan came as a pair with a cat. I took Ivan outside and the guy brought Holly out, they ran towards each other. Like in a movie. They were so happy together. I couldn't separate them. Besides, Mom was the one who didn't like cats.”
“Allergic,” said Dan. “You mom was allergic to cats.”
“Whatever. Mom couldn't have cats, but Dad and I can. So, we got both. I want to get the name of the woman in the nursing home and write her about Holly and Ivan. I won't tell her we found them in the shelter, though.”
“That would be very thoughtful,” said his mom. “She must miss them terribly.”
“Are you going to start looking for a condo here, Mom?” asked Rob while munching on a carrot.
“This week. My friend Irene's daughter is a real estate agent who has several communities in mind. “
“I'm sure Dan's not going to kick you out,” laughed Suzanne.
Dan slapped his arm. “Ugh, I think mosquito season has started. Let's get back inside.” Dan started to gather empty plates. Suzanne cleared the rest of the table and Rob cleaned the grill.
“Gran and I'll do dishes,” offered Katie.
“No, go in the living room,” Dan said. “I'll rinse them off and put them in the dishwasher. Suzanne, would you make a pot of coffee? Katie, take the cookies in on a platter. With napkins.”
“Dad,” she gave him an exasperated look. “I know we need napkins. Anyone want milk and sugar for coffee?” She received a collective no. “No spoons, then.”
Dan finished the dishes and joined them in the living room.
“I'm stuffed,” said Rob after three cookies. “Excellent meal. Excellent service. Nice surroundings. I have to say I really like this room now that the antiques are gone.”
“Blue's very soothing,” said his mom.
“Jill's quilt as the focal point of the room is spectacular,” said Suzanne. “Kaitlyn, you've got an eye for color and design.”
“I hope so. I'm going to take two art courses next year. One in photography. I'm going to practice this summer taking pictures of Holly and Ivan. Dad, I told Sophia I'd call her after dinner. Do you mind if I go upstairs and use your phone?”
“No,” he handed her his cell. “Don't pick up if anyone calls. Let it go to voice mail. Just call Sophia.”
When Katie had gone upstairs, followed by Holly and Ivan, Dan spilled his story. “I'm surrendering to the police tomorrow morning. Lombardi is taking me in instead of having them come to the house to arrest me. She's making a motion for me to be found incompetent to stand trial. The Commonwealth Attorney agrees. I'll go as an outpatient to be examined by a court-appointed psychiatrist. He or she will find me incompetent, admit me to the hospital, and transfer me to Petersburg.”
“Commonwealth Psychiatric?” his mother cried.
Dan nodded. “Lombardi said it's the best way.”
Rob stood. He looked as shaken as Dan felt.
“Back up. I missed several steps along the way. I thought Lombardi said you had a good chance at being found not guilty at trial. Everything is circumstantial. Not one shred of hard evidence.
“After she hired the PI, Lombardi got results, right? People maybe saw you at the Oceanfront that Saturday. Sand was found in your car even though she can't prove when it got there. The murder weapon was morphine with a syringe. Jill was prescribed morphine in tablets and you picked up the refills, but there's no proof that the prescription morphine killed her or that you ever bought a syringe. The only thing that might be bad is that you had serious bruising on your thigh. Kaitlyn can confirm your story if it comes to that. So, why wouldn't you go to trial and just plead not guilty? Why can't the charges be dismissed?”
“I don't understand, either, Dan,” said Suzanne.
“You're right. All of that would give a jury reasonable doubt. Lombardi said the CA would drop the charges and not even go to trial.”
“So why this new plan?” asked Rob.
Dan let out a long sigh.
“Because I said I had an affair with a woman who has been proven to be dead since 2001. I have a diagnosis of delusional disorder with psychotic episodes. I had motive to kill Jill if I thought that would clear the way for Bella and me to be together. The cops have the diagnosis and record of my long psychiatric history. If Lombardi didn't raise it, the CA or even the judge would question my competence with that kind of mental health history. If they didn't, whatever verdict they got would be appealed. Their reputations would be damaged if the verdict was overturned on appeal. It has to be addressed now. “
Rob sat and rubbed his forehead. He looked beaten down. Suzanne was on the verge of tears. Dan couldn't bear to look at his mother.
“Dan,” it was his mother, “forgive me for asking you to go through this again, but why wouldn't you just plead Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity? Surely, if the evidence of mental illness is so strong, the jurors would see that you weren't in your right mind if you did such a horrible thing.”
He reached out and held his mother's hand. “Right, and I'd be sent to Petersburg for the rest of my life. I wouldn't go free. NGRI offers the choice between Petersburg and death row. Mom, the insanity defense is successful in less than one percent of cases.”
Silence as everyone seemed preoccupied in finding a solution. Finally, Suzanne spoke. “This is temporary Petersburg, right? You avoid a trial by raising your competency to even stand trial.”
“Yes. Lombardi thinks the sooner I raise it, the sooner I'll be treated and cured of my delusion.” He'd never believe he and Bella hadn't been together, but he wasn't going to say that. “Once I'm found competent, the charges will be dropped. Being competent means I've overcome my delusions about Bella. If I no longer believed I had an affair, I'd have no motive to kill Jill. As Lombardi says, no affair, no reason to kill my wife.”
“What's the catch?” asked Rob.
“Everything depends upon how quickly I become competent. The CA who is currently assigned the case and has agreed to drop the charges when I'm released from Petersbu
rg has political aspirations and might not be on the case. He could be running for Governor by the time I'm found competent to stand trial. His replacement might not be so agreeable, but the case is so weak without motive Lombardi doubts anyone wants it. She doesn't have a crystal ball. She's making the best recommendation based on bad circumstances.”
“What about the judge? Wouldn't he still be held to the agreement?”
“Rob, the judge doesn't care. If Petersburg says I'm competent and the CA says that means I had no motive and drops the charges, he'll dismiss the case.”
“Dan, I can't believe you have such terrible choices,” said his mother.
“Mom, I've been in psych hospitals before. I have to believe Petersburg is better than death row.”
“How long will you have to stay in Petersburg this way?” asked Rob.
“Maybe a year.” Dan talked over his mother's intake of breath. “I'll have evaluations and hearings every three months until they decide I'm competent or something called unrestorably incompetent that would probably get me released to a private hospital or even home with supervision. I met a young woman at Richmond Memorial Hospital who was headed to Petersburg for the third time. She said it wasn't too bad. She said there's just not much supervision.”
Rob looked at him in disbelief. “You're trying to make Commonwealth Psychiatric Hospital sound not like a hell hole based on a conversation with a two-time former inmate heading for her third? Solid.”
Dan ignored him. “Mom, will you stay in the house with Katie until custody is sorted out? Lombardi found an experienced custody lawyer to represent Katie. I can't imagine what the Carters will do. I hope they don't take Katie away from Richmond. Even if she boarded at St. Margaret's and went to Charleston for holidays would be something.”
“Dan, anything at all, Dan,” said his mom.
Rob was back on his feet pacing. “I still don't get it. Why don't you just say you were mistaken about Bella?”
“Because it's a lie. I would perjure myself and Lombardi won't suborn perjury. She'd get disbarred. She's not going to lose her livelihood for me.”