But if the lawyer insisted on flying to Phoenix to meet her in person, then they meant business. And if they meant business, that meant serious money. With her fourth psychology book set for release and a monthly speaking appearance scheduled for every month of the year, money wasn’t really a concern. However, Jeremy Heston could provide enough material for a whole book on his own.
She also had a tropical trip planned for her sixty-fifth birthday, in October. No way would she reschedule that. Every year she planned a trip for her birthday.
What would be driving this lawyer? Did she share the passion for getting both convicted and accused criminals the help they deserved? Or was she just looking out for herself, trying to win an impossible case?
A soft knock came from her office door.
“Come in!” she shouted from across the room. She pushed aside the stacks of folders that had accumulated over the week to clear space on her desk.
The door opened and a slender woman entered, wearing a tailored pantsuit and flashy jewelry. It reminded Dr. Brown of how she herself had dressed when she was in her early fifties, which she judged the lawyer to be.
“Ms. Kennedy?” Dr. Brown asked as she stood.
“Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Brown,” Linda said as she hurried toward the desk. The women shook hands and sat down opposite each other, across the desk. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.”
“Of course. I’m always happy to discuss how my expertise might help someone in need.”
“I’m glad to hear that, because we really need your help. You may know of my client, Jeremy Heston.”
“I do. Quite the tragedy. How were you thinking I might be able to help?” Dr. Brown knew very well what the lawyer was going to ask, but wanted to stay in control of the conversation.
“We would like you to assess Mr. Heston’s mental state as we prepare for trial, and also serve as a witness, to testify on your findings.”
“Are you assuming I’ll just say he’s insane and build a story around that?”
“Of course not. Though we have had other doctors run tests and they agree there is something wrong with him mentally. We believe you’ll be able to confirm those findings. That, combined with your credentials, could help us make a strong case to keep a mentally ill man out of prison. And of course, off death row.”
“What does your timeline look like?” Dr. Brown kept her tone casual.
“We would like to have the assessment done as soon as possible. It’s April now, and we’re most likely looking at a trial at the end of the year.”
“When, exactly?” Dr. Brown demanded.
Linda pulled out her cell phone and Dr. Brown could see her hand trembling as she flipped through her virtual calendar. “I should know for sure in July, but I’m anticipating opening statements sometime in November or December.”
Dr. Brown flipped open the laptop on her desk and opened her own calendar. “That should work.”
“If you need more time, we can always request a delay. We don’t want you to feel rushed by any means.”
“What is your client willing to pay?”
“The Heston family seems to have some money saved. We were going to propose $250,000 for your services, plus travel expenses and accommodations.”
“Are you expecting to keep me retained during the entire trial?”
“Yes. My team would like to consult with you throughout the trial and prep. We won’t need you in Denver, however, aside from your actual testimony and testing. We’re fine consulting with you over the phone.”
“Make it $350,000 and you have a deal.”
“Done.”
“Perfect. Give me next week to make arrangements here in Phoenix and I’ll plan to be in Denver on the eighteenth.”
“Terrific. That will be plenty of time for me to arrange for your interviews at the jail. Is there anything you need us to provide?”
“No, not right now, but thank you. I’ll make sure to send everything I need ahead of time. If you can just keep it all stored for me.”
“I’ll personally keep it in my office until you arrive.” Linda handed her business card over.
“Thank you. Was there anything else you needed from me today?”
“No, Doctor, thank you again for your time.”
10
Chapter 10
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Geoff and Linda stood in Judge Zamora’s chambers. A soft golden glow splashed across the room through the sheer white curtains hanging over the window. A sturdy oak desk sat in front of the windows, where the judge sat in a leather chair that looked more like a throne. Geoff studied the hundreds of books lined up on the wall.
“Thank you both for stopping in today,” Judge Zamora said, removing his glasses and dropping them on his desk. “I want to discuss a couple matters.”
The attorneys remained standing and watched the judge as he stared at them.
“The first matter is regarding the press coverage for this trial. I’ve decided to allow one camera to record the entire trial. The jury will be left out of the camera’s view, but the rest of the courtroom is fair game.”
Linda smirked. “Great exposure for the governor here.”
“Don’t call me that,” Geoff said through clenched teeth.
“Stop it!” the judge barked. “I don’t need your bullshit in my chambers, we’re here to talk business. You’ve both been behaving so far, I expect nothing different when testimony begins. This is a sensitive case that will have national attention and I expect both of you to be positive representatives of our legal system. I won’t hesitate to hold either of you in contempt if there are any outbursts. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Geoff murmured like a punished child.
Linda nodded. She loved getting a reaction from the district attorney.
“Are there any objections to the camera?”
They shook their heads.
“Perfect. Now, the other issue is one I’ve been losing sleep over: jury sequestration. You have both submitted requests for a sequestration, but I’ve ultimately decided against it.”
“Your Honor, I think that’s a mistake. Especially if there’s going to be a camera in the courtroom,” Geoff pleaded, taking a step toward the oak desk. Linda decided to let Geoff take the bullet for them. They had submitted the request in anticipation of the constant press coverage the trial would receive. Having the jury locked away from the outside world would help both sides, by preventing any external information from making its way into the jury’s minds.
“I understand your reasons for wanting it, but it’s already going to be extremely hard to find a jury. Sequestration makes it even harder, as you know, by limiting the pool of jurors. Aside from that, sequestered juries are known to make quick decisions on the verdict. After a long trial, being locked up in a hotel with limited contact to the outside world, all they want to do is go home. I feel allowing them to go home each day will help us arrive at a fair verdict.”
“It’s too risky,” Geoff continued. “Someone will see something they’re not supposed to.”
“Then I suggest you pick trustworthy jurors, Mr. Batchelor,” the judge snapped. “We’ll have protocol in place during the jury’s time in the courtroom. Absolutely no cell phones allowed in the building.”
Geoff wanted to plead further, Linda could see, but decided against it.
“Now, will either of you be filing any objections to this?” the judge asked, practically daring them.
“No, Your Honor,” Linda said.
Geoff turned red and shook his head in disgrace.
“Very well,” Judge Zamora said. “Mr. Batchelor, you may leave. I have a couple of motions to discuss with Ms. Kennedy.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Geoff said and turned for the door.
“Bye, Governor,” Linda said.
Geoff hesitated, shook his head, and stepped out of the room.
The judge had a smirk on his face
when Linda turned back to him.
“Ms. Kennedy, I received your motion about the defendant’s dress code. I’ll allow him to dress in street clothes and be free of handcuffs and shackles. We’ll have him wear a harness underneath his clothing that will be anchored to the ground.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“This is a big opportunity for you, Ms. Kennedy. Win or lose, this can change your life. Remember: the whole country will be watching.” The judge winked at her then turned his attention to the large calendar splayed across his desk.
“Thank you, Your Honor. I look forward to it.”
11
Chapter 11
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
“We have a few matters to cover today,” Judge Zamora said, “so I expect us all to get to the point.”
It was the morning of Jeremy’s preliminary hearing, and he sat at Linda’s side. His parents sat in the front row of the gallery; he had locked eyes with his mom before quickly looking to the ground. He had to remain emotionless. The sight of his mother forced him to fight away the growing lump in his throat that always accompanied crying. She looked exhausted and miserable, despite a sharp outfit and perfect makeup. He could see the pain in her eyes.
His father refused to meet his eye, looking down at his lap. Through all his planning, Jeremy had never really considered the effects his actions would have on his parents. Seeing them in such visible pain forced a flood of tears that he held back behind his eyeballs.
The judge continued, “The first matter I would like to address is regarding the press coverage for this trial. I’ve decided to allow one camera in the courtroom for the duration of the trial. The workings of our justice system should always be available for public viewing. Since this case already has a national following, I’m allowing the trial to be shared. The camera will be set up in the back, facing me, and not showing the jury box. We will restrict the amount of press allowed in the courtroom.” The judge spoke to the press that filled the back of the courtroom. Most of them nodded, expecting such a decision.
“My clerk will be in touch with the members of the press, to grant some of you passes, and the remainder of you will have to follow along on TV. We will open a separate viewing room should you wish to still be in the courthouse, but I want to save space for the victims and families of the deceased to attend this trial.”
The judge turned to Linda. “Now, Ms. Kennedy, you had something to bring to the court’s attention?”
Linda stood, wearing a purple pantsuit that revealed curves Jeremy hadn’t noticed before.
“Yes, Your Honor. The defense would like to request more time in preparing our case. We believe our client to be mentally ill and need more time to assess the nature of his illness.”
“And what have you been doing since we last met in March?” the judge demanded.
“Your Honor, our client has now met with two different psychiatrists: one appointed by the state and one by the defense. Each doctor met with our client for twenty hours of interviews. As you can imagine, we have a lot of reading and research to conduct, based on these interviews alone. We’re working as fast as we can, but between the interviews and the mountain of evidence being presented, it’s been impossible to complete our due diligence for the defendant.”
“Any objections, Mr. Batchelor?” the judge asked the district attorney.
“No, Your Honor. We’re still evaluating the reports ourselves,” Geoff said.
“Very well then,” Judge Zamora said. “We will plan on a follow-up hearing on Monday, September 19. Please be prepared then to discuss evidence being submitted for this case.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Linda said, and sat back down.
“Is there anything else that needs to be discussed today?” Judge Zamora asked. Geoff and Linda shook their heads. “Court is adjourned.”
* * *
Linda followed Jeremy to the jailhouse.
“We’re going to stall as long as we can,” she told him through the phone. “It’s part of our strategy.”
“How so?” Jeremy asked.
“These events are still too fresh in the public’s eye. And since the judge denied our request to transfer this case outside of the county, your jurors are going to be selected from this community. I want to put as much time between March 11th and the start of the trial as possible, to take the sting out of the situation.”
“Exactly how long are you thinking?”
“I think I can buy us another year, possibly two.”
“Two years!” Jeremy gasped. “Is that really necessary?”
“Jeremy. You slaughtered thirteen people and wounded dozens more. I would love to stall five years, but that’s simply not possible.”
Jeremy clenched his teeth and felt blood rush to his face, a sensation he had felt toward Shelly before he pulled the trigger on her. Sometimes he felt Linda was his greatest shot. Other times, he thought she was full of shit and should quit her profession. This was one of the latter instances.
“What have you found from the interviews with the shrinks?”
“We’re still sorting through all of that, as I mentioned in court, but it looks like Dr. Brown diagnosed you with a severe case of psychosis. The prosecution’s doctor stated that you are legally sane, as expected.”
Psychosis. That’s an easy cop-out—a blanket statement that covers all kinds of disorders.
Jeremy nodded. “Is there any sort of treatment I can receive?”
“Yes. We have two options for that. You can either go through another interview process with the state’s psychiatrist and they can set up a treatment plan and prescribe drugs. Or we could have a hearing with the doctors who already interviewed you, and get them to all agree on what your treatment plan should be. But with one of them working for the other side, it will never happen. We’ll need to go with a third, neutral party to get you on medication.”
Jeremy groaned. “No more interviews.”
“There may be more, should you receive treatment. The doctor would need to follow up and make sure there’s progress.”
“Okay, let’s just do it.”
“I can arrange that.” Linda wrote a reminder to herself. “We need to start preparing you for these public appearances, since the camera will be allowed in the courtroom. I’ll arrange for you to get a haircut before the next hearing. The public views you as a villain. We need to show them you’re still a human, just in need of help.”
“Okay, if you say so,” Jeremy said, not pleased. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. He knew it wouldn’t be a quick process, but two years was a long time to stay in the same solitary cell. The plan was to keep him in the county detention center for the duration of the trial. He couldn’t legally be sent to a prison unless sentenced, and the center was only a five minute drive to the courthouse.
He wanted desperately to tell Linda about his experiment, but had no idea how she would react. The risk outweighed the reward.
At least the doctor had given him a diagnosis they could work with.
Psychosis does open the door to a lot of possibilities. Dr. Brown may have spared my life. Am I really suffering from something, or did I do a good job of selling it?
Jeremy pondered this as he returned to his cell, certain he had no mental issues.
* * *
The following week, a state-appointed doctor paid a visit to Jeremy. Dr. Chang was a young psychiatrist in his mid-thirties who had just come to the U.S. from his home in South Korea. He had a full head of thick black hair slicked to the side, and high cheekbones that complemented his youthful appearance. Jeremy had a round of interviews with Dr. Chang, whose sole purpose was to implement a medication plan for the inmate.
The interview with Dr. Chang only lasted three hours in total, much shorter than the marathons Jeremy had grown accustomed to with Dr. Reed and Dr. Brown. Dr. Chang’s questions weren’t focused on his childhood or his inner desires, but rather his medical history. Heavy duty dru
gs would be administered as long as Jeremy passed as healthy enough to receive them. The doctor took urine and blood samples, as well as scraped Jeremy’s skin with various swabs to check for allergic reactions.
Dr. Chang returned the next day with a plan.
“Mr. Heston, I’m prescribing you Chlorpromazine. We’ll be starting with small dosages every other day, to make sure there are no major side effects. It will make you feel drowsy. You need to report immediately if you feel any sort of chest tightness or severe muscle spasms. These occurrences are extremely rare, but be aware. Once we’re in the clear, I’ll increase your dose.”
Jeremy started taking Chlorpromazine that same day. The pills gave him a high that reminded him of his college days, smoking marijuana in his dorm room. A half hour after he swallowed the pill, his body relaxed to the point where he could barely stand up from his cot. His mind drifted into the clouds and he felt as if his soul had actually risen from his body and was looking down on him.
The days in between doses were to protect him from developing an addiction to the drugs. While he didn’t seem to develop a physical dependence right away, his mind craved the high—it gave him something to look forward to every other day.
12
Chapter 12
Friday, September 19, 2016
Jeremy sat in court, a long day ahead. Both sides would debate what evidence would be allowed in the trial. He had grown a slight tolerance to his medication by now, but could still feel its subtle relaxation kick in after a few minutes. Pre-medication, he would have dreaded the long day in court, but with the medication it became bearable as he mostly zoned out for good chunks of the day.
He still wore his dark red uniform, but Linda assured him that he’d be able to wear a suit once the trial actually started. He’d also receive a fresh buzz cut for his scraggly hair. “The public is going to see you, and they’ll see a different person. So far it’s been mug shots and stills from the courtroom, when you weren’t at your best. Come trial time, you’ll look like an upstanding citizen.”
The Burden Page 4