Dialogues
Page 19
“Oh, my.”
“I know that lawyer too. Usually he’s smarter than that. But that day, he began arguing with the judge while Becker was still talking, and that was that. The one thing lawyers learn right out of law school is never interrupt the judge. Never. The judge is the God of the courtroom. Sometimes, in the heat of a trial, some lawyers forget that.”
“Did the lawyer get out of jail?”
“Oh, yeah. The following morning the judge let him go. It was sort of funny, because the judge ordered him released at eight in the morning and he had to be in court by ten, so he had to rush home, shower, change his clothes, and get back to the courthouse in time. And because he had been in a cell all night, he had not been able to prepare for the following day’s testimony. Needless to say, that case did not go very well for my friend.”
“I’m still very nervous, Miss Payne.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Viviana. And just keep in mind that everything you will do will be to help your daughter.”
“All right. Thank you. I’ll try to stay calm.”
“You’ll be fine. I promise you that, and the judge will see to it.”
42
Court Transcript:
Tory Troy
Defense Counsel Carolyn Payne
District Attorney Brawley Loren
Judge Gerard Becker
Court Personnel
The Visitors’ Gallery
The Jury
Dr. Gwyneth June
“Please raise your right hand and place your left hand on the Bible. Do you solemnly swear or affirm that the testimony you are about to give in this court will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“I do.”
“Please state your name for the record.”
“Gwyneth June.”
“And would you please tell the court your occupation?”
“I am a forensic pathologist for the state of Connecticut. Non-field.”
“What does ‘non-field’ mean?”
“I do not go to crime scenes. I perform autopsies on untimely death victims at the Hartford lab.”
“And what are ‘untimely death victims,’ please?”
“Murder victims, sudden deaths, unattended deaths, suicides. Pretty much almost any death outside of a health-care facility or a hospice.”
“I see. Were you the pathologist of record for the six murders for which the defendant is being tried?”
“Yes.”
“And what were your conclusions as to the causes of death of the six victims?”
“They all died from suffocation.”
“And what caused them all to suffocate to death?”
“Paralysis of the lungs, primarily; inhalation of toxic gas—carbon monoxide—as a secondary cause.”
“Lung paralysis and carbon monoxide poisoning.”
“Yes.”
“Did you do toxicology screens?”
“Of course.”
“And could you tell us what drugs, or substances, if any, were found in the bodies?”
“The findings were routine, except for the pancuronium bromide. The Pavulon. The specifics of what was found in each body are in my lab reports.”
“We’ll get to the Pavulon in a moment, Doctor. Permission to admit Dr. June’s toxicology reports into evidence, Judge?”
“Granted.”
“Dr. June, what else can you tell us about your autopsy findings that you would consider relevant to this case and important for the members of the jury to know?”
“There are two findings that I consider important. The first is that each victim exhibited a small puncture wound in the midpoint of the posterior of the cervical spine.”
“There was a hole in the back of their neck.”
“A puncture. Yes.”
“And what made this puncture hole, Doctor?”
“A hypodermic syringe.”
“A needle.”
“Yes.”
“This leads me to ask you about your second important finding, please.”
“Each of the victims evidenced a measurable level of pancuronium bromide in their blood. Pavulon.”
“And what is Pavulon, Dr. June?”
“It is a paralytic agent. A paralyzing drug.”
“And what is Pavulon used for?”
“Mainly to immobilize patients before surgery.”
“You say to immobilize patients. Does it make them unconscious? Knock them out?”
“No. That is done by standard anesthesia. Paralytic drugs prevent the patient’s body from moving involuntarily during surgery, but it is not an anesthetic.”
“So, at the time of their deaths, the six victims were paralyzed?”
“Yes.”
“And conscious?”
“Yes.”
“How long would they have remained conscious after they were injected with the drug?”
“At least a few minutes. Until they blacked out from lack of oxygen and then died.”
“So, then, Dr. June, based on your findings, the six victims in this case were paralyzed, suffocating, and wide awake when they were dragged into the gas chamber and the gas was turned on.”
“Yes.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Does Defense Counsel have any questions for this witness? Ms. Payne?”
“Not at this time, Your Honor.”
“You may step down, Dr. June.”
43
Tory Troy
Psychiatric Nurse Chiarra Ziegler
“Hey, Chiarra.”
“Hi, Tory.”
“You know what occurred to me last night?”
“What’s that?”
“That I’m grateful for music.”
“You’re grateful for music? Grateful? What does that mean?”
“I’ve been listening to a lot of classical stuff lately. My mother sent me a bunch of CDs. And Carolyn gave me a two-CD set of twenty-four Shostakovich piano preludes and fugues. Played by Keith Jarrett. I usually don’t go for the more modern composers, but I’m loving these CDs.”
“Well, good, Tory. I’m glad music provides something of a respite for you. We do so love when our patients are—what’s the word?—placid.”
“Placid? Is that what I am?”
“Well, you do seem somewhat more relaxed.”
“It’s because of the trial.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s moving right along now … and for some reason, the fact that the end is a foregone conclusion has made me less … anxious.”
“Tory—”
“It is, Chiarra … we both know it.… Anyway, I guess that since I probably have a limited time to listen to music, I am suddenly grateful for it.”
“I’ve noticed you reading more too.”
“Yeah. I’m into this book about Zen now. Do you know what a koan is?”
“Are you serious?”
“It’s a kind of riddle—but a riddle that can make your head explode if you think too hard about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re the kind that don’t have real answers. But thinking about them is supposed to bring … clarity, I guess.”
“I’m lost.”
“Okay. Try this on for size. When you can do nothing, what can you do?”
“That’s easy.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Sure. When you can’t do anything, then you can’t do anything. Simple.”
“But if you’re doing nothing, then aren’t you really doing something?”
“I …”
“Don’t even try.”
“Right.”
“There’s a great Zen story. A young student went to a Zen master and asked him how he could know Zen. The master told him to go sit on a beach and stare at the sea for ten years. The student protested, saying that that was too long to wait. He asked the master how long it would take if he worked really hard at it. And the master said
, ‘Oh, then it will take twenty years.’”
“I like that. I’m not sure I understand it—but I like it.”
“Join the club.”
“You don’t understand it?”
“I … maybe. I try. Sometimes I … you know, catch a glimpse.”
“Sounds too confusing for me.”
“It’s confusing for me too.”
“Then why study it?”
“Cause if I didn’t, I’d eat instead.”
“Tory, you’re a reed, for Christ’s sake.”
“Wanna see my thighs?”
“You’re crazy.”
“That’s what they—well, that’s what some people say.”
“Do you have to meditate when you … do—is that the right word?—Zen?”
“It’s all part of it, but I’ve always meditated. I have one I do a lot. Make your mind still like a stone. You should try it.”
“Please. Enough people have told me I’ve got rocks in my head over the years. I don’t need to join in, thank you very much.”
“There’s another one I found in some book that said to imagine that your body was an empty room with walls of skin. Sometimes that works, but the imagery usually grosses me out and reminds me of that movie Videodrome.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Isn’t it, though? I avoid that one.”
“Smart girl.”
“You saw Carolyn here today, didn’t you? I joked with her about working on a Sunday. I said, ‘Don’t you ever take a day off?’ and she said, ‘What is this “day off” of which you speak?’ She’s funny.”
“I like her.”
“She told me she heard that the D.A. is thinking of calling the doctor who certified me fit to stand trial to the stand.”
“Bexley?”
“Yeah. Although I don’t know what for. All he can testify about is my competency now. Unless Loren finds a way to get Bexley to admit that I was sane when I … you know.”
“Do you think he will? Admit that to the D.A.?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
“Tory, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You’re Catholic, right?”
“Yeah. Well … let’s put it this way: I was baptized.”
“Have you prayed over this?”
“No. I used to be a lot more religious than I am now, Chiarra. And my writing reflected it too. Now I’m like a half-assed agnostic—one crisis away from becoming an atheist.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Tory.”
“It’s true. I’ve even had dreams about Jesus, if you can believe that, and when I wake up, I’m even more convinced than ever that I’m alone. Some people—especially Italians—they believe that if you dream about Jesus, or the Virgin Mary, or a saint, it means that they really came to you in your sleep. I know my mother believes that.”
“And you don’t?”
“I used to. I used to read all sorts of things into my dreams. I dreamt once that Jesus and I were watching workers build his cross. He even spoke to me.”
“What did He say?”
“I don’t remember exactly, but it was something about him having been through all of it before … that he was just one of many christs … christs with a small c.”
“Really? How did that make you feel?”
“Like I was watching a science fiction movie. I couldn’t shake the image of all these alien Jesuses visiting earth over the centuries.… I didn’t get it … and then I—once again—woke up confused and cynical.”
“Don’t get mad, all right?”
“Why?”
“I’m going to ask you something, but I don’t want you to get mad.”
“How can I promise you that when I haven’t heard what you’re going to ask me?”
“Yeah, I know—but just try not to get mad at me, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll try. Fire away.”
“Do you think you were able to kill those people because you lost your religion?”
“What—like the R.E.M. song?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do. And my answer is maybe, probably, I doubt it, and I don’t know.”
“Oh. That clears things up for me. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry, Chiarra. I don’t mean to blow you off like that. It’s just that—as pathetic as it sounds—those really are the answers to your question: maybe, probably, I doubt it, and I don’t know.”
“Don’t you have faith, Tory?”
“In what?”
“In anything. That life means something. That we go on after we die. That there’s a God.”
“Well, I always thought I believed that life had meaning—but look at what I did. How could I hold that belief and do what I did? How? Tell me.”
“I don’t know, Tory.”
“Yeah. Me neither. Do you believe, Chiarra?”
“Oh, yes. Always have. Always will.”
“You know, deep down, I suspect that I know what you mean. After all, it does make sense to me that there had to have been … something to start everything off. Nothing can’t come from nothing, right? I sometimes feel that in the pit of my stomach.”
“That’s not your stomach. That’s your soul.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, it doesn’t show up on an MRI, I can tell you that. And most of the time, I’m fighting a feeling of emptiness … that there’s nothing at all in there.”
“You’re undergoing a crisis of faith, Tory. Don’t worry about it. It’ll pass.”
“Any way to hurry it up?”
“Not that I know of. But I’m certain that you’ll pull out of this nosedive you’re in.”
“You mean before I crash headfirst into the void?”
“There’s nothing in the void. You can’t crash into nothing.”
“Good point. So does that mean I’ll just keep falling?”
“Oh, no. You’ll be caught. Believe me.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good. And on that note, my break is over. Thanks for giving me something that will prey on my mind for … well, at least for the remainder of my shift!”
“I’m sorry!”
“I’m only kidding. And you still haven’t taken your Ambien, Tory.”
“Damn. I thought you’d forget.”
“I may not remember my cousins’ names, but I never forget patient orders.”
“Oh, all right. Thanks, Chiarra.”
“For what? You don’t want the pill, so what are you grateful for?”
“For listening.”
44
Court Transcript:
Tory Troy
Defense Counsel Carolyn Payne
District Attorney Brawley Loren
Judge Gerard Becker
Court Personnel
The Visitors’ Gallery
The Jury
Dr. Baraku Bexley
“Please raise your right hand and place your left hand on the Bible. Do you solemnly swear or affirm that the testimony you are about to give in this court will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“I do.”
“Please state your name for the record.”
“Baraku Bexley.”
“And would you please tell the court your occupation.”
“I am a psychiatrist.”
“Are you board certified?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a private practice?”
“Yes.”
“Are you on the staff of any local hospitals?”
“Yes. The Hospital of St. Raphael and Yale–New Haven Hospital. Both are in New Haven.”
“Do you teach psychiatry?”
“I do. I am on the faculty of the Yale School of Medicine. Clinical psychiatry.”
“Thank you. Dr. Bexley, what is your relationship with the defendant?”
“I was appointed by this court to examine the defendant and make a determination as to her fitness to stand trial.”
“And what does that mean exactly, Doctor?”
“I interviewed her at length and administered a range of psychological tests to determine if she was able to understand the charges against her and participate in her defense.”
“And you determined that she was fit, is that correct?”
“Obviously, Counselor. Or we wouldn’t all be here, would we?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you, Doctor. What can you tell us regarding the defendant’s state of mind at the time of the murders?”
“That is outside the purview of my work with Ms. Troy.”
“I understand that. But as a psychiatric expert, I am asking only for your opinion regarding her mental state when she committed the murders.”
“Are you asking me if she was insane, Counselor?”
“No, Doctor. I am asking for your opinion as to her state of mind at the time—sane or insane, whichever you think she was. Do you believe that the defendant, Victoria Abigail Troy, possessed the mental capacity at the time of the murders to realize that what she was doing was wrong?”
“I do.”
“Let’s be clear, Doctor. As you know, the defendant has pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. She is claiming a diminished mental capacity extensive enough to prevent her from understanding that her actions were both legally and morally wrong. You are stating here today, on the record, and under penalties of perjury, that you believe she was in full possession of her mental faculties when she killed six people?”
“Yes.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Ms. Payne?”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Good day, Dr. Bexley.”
“Hello.”
“Doctor, you spent several days with Tory, didn’t you?”
“Yes. My interviews spanned ten separate days over a three-week period. We spoke many times.”
“I see. And during that time, would you say that you got to know Tory fairly well?”
“I believe so. As well as possible under the circumstances.”
“The circumstances?”
“She was incarcerated and I was ‘on assignment,’ so to speak. That is, by its very nature, an artificial situation. Thus, I ‘got to know her’ within severely limited parameters.”
“I understand. Thank you. Let me ask you this, then, Doctor. Do you think Tory Troy is a good person?”
“Objection, Your Honor. Vague. That question is impossible to answer without agreeing on a definition of good.”
“Overruled. You may answer the question, Doctor.”
“Would you repeat the question, please?”