Beauty vs. the Beast

by M. J. Rodgers

  “You mean you’re about to become history.”

  The corners of Croghan’s lips rose toward his ears in a smile that reminded Kay of a python just before it swallowed its prey.

  Kay started suddenly as she heard a commotion behind her. She whirled in time to see Fedora Nye crashing into Damian.

  Damian grabbed the off-balance woman to steady her. When Fedora looked up and realized whose hands held her, she let out a sharp screech.

  Damian released the woman immediately.

  Croghan rushed forward and swept the end of his cape around his client’s shoulders like the protective wing of a father bird.

  “Mrs. Nye, are you all right?” he bellowed, staring accusingly at Damian the whole time as though Damian had struck her.

  Kay deliberately stepped in front of the rolling cameras and curled her arm around Damian’s. She leaned in close enough for a hurried whisper. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He whispered his answer. “I’ll dig a hole through these ghouls if I have to use my head as a battering ram.”

  “Dr. Steele,” a reporter shouted. “Why did you just try to knock down Mrs. Nye?”

  As the baiting questions continued to multiply like virulent bacteria, Damian pushed their way through the thick circle of reporters. His strong shoulder finally slammed through the courtroom doors, leading Kay thankfully away from the less-than-dignified members of Seattle’s fourth estate, who were now being forcibly detained by two court officers, demanding they come to order before being let into the courtroom.

  Kay breathed a sigh of relief as she flopped into her chair at the defendant’s table. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Croghan didn’t push his own client into you,” she said.

  “Or convince her to pretend to be pushed in order to provoke the confrontation,” Damian replied.

  “He’s really escalated this case into a media circus. You can be certain he leaked that information about the missing videotapes. In his previous life, you just know Croghan had to have slithered around on his belly.”

  “So it would seem,” Damian answered distractedly as he pulled a blue envelope out of his jacket pocket. He looked at it, an uncharacteristic frown puckering his forehead.

  “Something wrong?” Kay asked.

  Damian swung around in his chair and looked first at Croghan and Fedora Nye at the plaintiff’s table and then turned back to look at the throng of newspeople jostling with other spectators for the best seats. Kay followed his eyes and saw them rest on a woman with a short cap of black hair.

  “Damian? What is it?”

  He turned back to Kay, the blue envelope still clutched in his hand, his eyes cold, green marble. “Did you see anyone slip this into my pocket?”

  “No. What is it?”

  He shook his head as he repocketed the envelope. “Nothing important.” His smile expanded as hers failed to appear. He briefly rested his hand on hers. “Really. It’s nothing.”

  “Who is that woman with the short, black hair?”

  “Dr. Priscilla Payton.”

  “Oh.”

  The lift of his lips did not reach his eyes. “Probably here hoping to see me professionally crucified.”

  “Then she’s going to be thoroughly disappointed,” Kay said with a vehemence that surprised even herself.

  This time his grin was genuine and absolutely devastating. Kay let out a deep internal sigh. No. She couldn’t be falling for a client. And certainly not a guy who thought marriage akin to jumping off a cliff. Every ounce of logic she possessed rejected the possibility.

  Kay resolutely turned away from Damian’s smile.

  Judge Ingle made his entrance. Kay rose and then sat down with the rest of the court.

  From now on, she’d keep all these inappropriate feelings in check. From now on, she’d keep her mind strictly on business.

  “Kay?”

  His breath blew tantalizingly against her ear, sending that crazy, exciting quiver down the back of her legs. She swallowed hard. “Yes?”

  “Are you ready?”

  Kay’s mind went blank. Suddenly, all she could think about was how wonderful it was to look into those deep green, mesmerizing eyes of his, to smell the spicy scent of his after-shave, to feel his closeness beside her.

  “Kay, the judge just asked if you were ready. Are you all right?”

  Kay’s right earlobe suddenly itched fiercely. She rubbed it hard as she crossed her legs and crossed them again. And yet again.

  “Ms. Kellogg?” Ingle inquired.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Kay answered, rising to her feet. “Defense is...ah...ready.”

  * * *

  “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN of the jury,” Croghan began in his opening address. “I am representing Mrs. Fedora Nye, the little widowed lady sitting at this table here.”

  Kay watched Croghan as he purposely stood behind Fedora, drawing the jury’s attention to the forlorn-appearing, brown-haired woman in the old, faded print dress that looked like something Croghan had probably picked up from a thrift shop.

  They made an unlikely pair, this modest, mousy client and her flamboyant, flashy attorney. Croghan was decked out in his white suit, with his golden belt buckle and swinging watch chain periodically colliding and clanging through the courtroom like a muffled fire bell.

  “This is a complicated case, an important case,” Croghan broadcast at his louder-than-life volume. He left his client and headed toward the jury box. “It involves two separate and distinct personalities inhabiting the same body. One of these personalities was named Roy.

  “It is Roy Nye who I want to tell you about, because he is the reason you are here. Roy was Fedora’s husband, the father of her children. These two were young lovers, meeting first as teenagers. Roy and Fedora would have been celebrating their silver anniversary soon.”

  Croghan’s forehead sliced into a scowl. “But that can never happen now, because Roy was taken from his wife and children. Tragically taken. Against his desire. Against his will. Not by illness. Not by injury. Not by an act of God. No, ladies and gentlemen. By an act of that man!”

  Croghan swung suddenly toward Damian, his right arm straight out, his index finger pointing accusingly.

  “Roy’s life was in that man’s hands. That man deliberately, maliciously, unconscionably, with malice aforethought, murdered Roy Nye!”

  Croghan swung both hands onto the railing in front of the jury. He gripped it as though trying to control his anger, closed his eyes as though trying to collect himself. Every legal instinct Kay possessed told her it was an act. Still, there was no denying it was a very good act. After a moment, Croghan opened his eyes and drew in a deep, dramatic breath before continuing.

  “The defense attorney is going to try to convince you that since Roy Nye’s body is still walking around, no real death has occurred. She’s going to say that since another personality exists inside Roy’s body, we have no wrongful death here, no grounds for personal liability.

  “Well, don’t you believe her, ladies and gentlemen. Roy is dead. Everything that made him a distinct human being is gone, deliberately cut out of his life by Dr. Damian Steele with his bloody, psychological switchblade!”

  Croghan paced in front of the jury, head down, fists by his sides, again posturing as though he were trying to hold in his anger and righteous indignation. Kay grudgingly admitted that, no doubt about it, her adversary was delivering a powerful performance. Finally, he turned back toward the men and women whose attention he had so adroitly captured.

  “You are going to be deciding nothing less than the definition of human life in this trial. Yes, that is what this case is all about. It is up to you to say if a man is a mere stack of muscle and bone, or if he is his memories, his loves, his hopes and his dreams.

  “And if you decide a man is more than mere flesh, then you must also decide that Roy Nye has been taken from his family by the wrong and willful act of that man, and you must compensate his grieving widow accordingly. It is up to you,
ladies and gentlemen, to redress this grievous wrong. It is up to you to send a message to this psychologist and all others who dare to set themselves up as God!”

  * * *

  DAMIAN WATCHED as Croghan stalked back to the plaintiff’s table. The courtroom was so quiet, he could hear Kay’s fingers drumming on the table, a visible and audible vibration of the revving of her mental engine.

  Damian’s mind was racing, too. Croghan had made one hell of an opening statement. The jury looked as if it was ready to find for Mrs. Nye already. What could Kay possibly say in rebuttal?

  She rose in one fluid movement, her back straight, her hands at her sides and a smile on her face. Damian was amazed at how confident her soft voice sounded and how well it carried throughout the courtroom, like a balm to the eardrums after Croghan’s far-too-loud blast.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Kay Kellogg. I represent Dr. Damian Steele, the defendant in this case. You’ve just been told by the plaintiff’s attorney that you are going to be asked to determine the definition of human life in this trial. I find it ludicrous that Mr. Croghan would actually try to make you think such a thing.”

  Kay laughed, a gentle, amused sound that sang in the ears and quickly relieved the dramatic tension that had hung in the wake of Croghan’s closing. Feet started to shuffle, chairs to squeak. Her soft laughter gradually drifted into the background noises of people regaining their comfort. Damian understood she had laughed precisely so they would regain their comfort.

  She walked up to the jury and smiled, raising her right hand as though taking an oath. “Let me reassure you. You will not be asked to determine the definition of human life in this trial. When life exists and when it ceases to exist has already been determined and documented in both medicine and law.”

  She dropped her hand and slowly and deliberately made eye contact with each one of the jurors.

  “But you will be asked to try to understand about a man with two identities, two very distinct and separate personalities.”

  She paused, let a small space of time go by.

  “Mr. Croghan mentioned one of those personalities to you. I want to tell you about both of them. I’m going to start off with the personality Mr. Croghan failed to tell you about. His name is Lee Nye.

  “Lee is a good, decent man who was troubled by terrible blackouts. He went to Dr. Steele for help. He was trying to make a life for himself, trying to hold down a job. But as Dr. Steele discovered, a dysfunctional personality fragment inside Lee’s mind was interfering. That dysfunctional fragment was Roy.

  “Now, I want you to try to visualize this. You’re working at your job when suddenly you black out and wake up more than a day later. You’re filthy dirty in a stinking alley, reeking of alcohol, with the pain of broken ribs from a recent barroom brawl shooting through your side and rats biting at your fingers.”

  Kay shuddered as she paused to let her image sink into the minds of the jurors.

  “Incredible to imagine what it would be like living through repeated episodes of such experiences, isn’t it?”

  Some of the heads in the jury box nodded.

  “That’s because a mind divided into more than one identity is not something we deal with every day. In order to visualize how this could take place, let’s borrow a couple of familiar images from literature. Do you all remember the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”

  Damian watched as most members of the jury nodded this time. She had their attention and clearly their interest.

  “Then you’ll also remember that when Dr. Jekyll was in control of the shared consciousness, reason and rationality ruled. But when Mr. Hyde took over the consciousness, immorality and inhumanity came to the fore.

  “We have a remarkably similar situation here. Lee was the reasonable, rational side, like Dr. Jekyll. Roy was the immoral, inhuman side, like—”

  “I object to that analogy being drawn, Your Honor!” Croghan bellowed, jumping to his feet.

  “This is just Ms. Kellogg’s opening statement, Mr. Croghan,” Judge Ingle said. “And I’ve already instructed the jury that these are opinions, not facts. Besides, as I recall, you wielded a few unfavorable analogies against the defense in your opening statement. It’s time for Ms. Kellogg to wow us with her verbal punches. Objection overruled.”

  Damian knew that Ingle had been following Kay’s every word, taking copious notes, and like the rest of the courtroom, couldn’t wait to hear what else she would say to counteract Croghan’s opening statement. Croghan grumbled as he retook his chair.

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Kay said, managing to flash the whole courtroom a brilliant smile as she turned back to the jury.

  “Yes, Roy was the immoral, evil side of the man once known as LeRoy Nye. Those terrible blackouts where Roy took over and the horrible aftermaths were the reasons that drove Lee to Dr. Steele for help. And Dr. Steele did help him. Lee Nye is now free of those dreadful blackouts, because he is now free of Roy.”

  She strode up and down in front of the attentive men and women of the jury, her hands clasped behind her back, a thoughtful look on her face.

  “Roy is gone. But he is not gone in the sense that you or I will someday die, because Roy was never alive in the sense that you or I are alive. He existed in the mind, like a malignant tumor exists.”

  “Your Honor, I object!”

  “What again, Mr. Croghan?” Ingle asked. “Give us a break here. Overruled.”

  Damian got the impression that Croghan was deliberately attempting to break Kay’s conversational stride by interrupting. Still, he didn’t seem to be having much luck. She picked up just where she had left off.

  “Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Roy invaded Lee Nye’s mind much liked Mr. Hyde invaded Dr. Jekyll’s, much like cancer invades the body.”

  She raised her hands, circled them around a large, invisible ball that she stared at with undisguised horror and disgust.

  “You know what cancer is like. It grows out of control, clumps together into a malignant tumor and sucks the life out of healthy cells. If not eliminated from the body, it will eventually kill it. Mr. Hyde was the cancer in Dr. Jekyll’s mind that finally killed him.”

  She dropped her hands to the railing of the jury box and leaned toward the jurors, her soft voice deadly calm and deadly serious.

  “Roy was the malignant growth in Lee’s mind, violent, uncontrolled. In order for Lee, the healthy part of the mind, to survive, Roy had to be eliminated.”

  She removed her hands from the railing and leaned back.

  “Mr. Croghan calls that murder. The legal and medical professions do not agree. That’s why no death certificate has been or ever will be prepared for Roy. That’s why no police investigation has been or ever will be initiated. Since neither the law nor medicine recognizes a death here, it’s ludicrous that Mr. Croghan demand you do.”

  Kay turned and strolled into the middle of the courtroom. All eyes followed her. She pivoted, swung around and faced the jury once more.

  “So now you must be wondering what you will be asked to decide in this case? Well, it’s simple, really. You’re being asked to decide if Dr. Damian Steele acted responsibly when he extinguished the malignant psychological tumor inside Lee Nye’s head so that Lee could become a healthy, productive member of society and not end up destroyed as Dr. Jekyll was destroyed.”

  Kay strode back to the defendant’s table and stood beside Damian, resting her hand on his shoulder. “We’re confident that the evidence will clearly support Dr. Steele’s decisions and actions in respect to the care of his patient, Lee Nye. Very confident.”

  She looked down at Damian and smiled warmly, confidentially—giving the impression that she was talking only to him while at the same time her soft voice carried throughout the courtroom.

  “Dr. Damian Steele literally gave Lee back his sanity. He’s the kind of doctor we all desperately search for but so seldom find. He’s competent, confident, committed, compassionate. Mr. Croghan says Dr. Steele
played God when he helped Lee Nye. If that’s playing God, then by heaven, it’s a game we should all be playing.”

  Kay quietly circled behind Damian and took her chair. No doubt about it, K. O. Kellogg knew her stuff. Her opening statement had been as powerful and compelling as Croghan’s.

  Ingle rapped for order as the courtroom erupted in an appreciative mumble from many spectators who obviously agreed with Damian’s silent assessment.

  “Look, folks, I’m enjoying these performances, too,” Ingle said. “But don’t get too rambunctious or I’ll have to give somebody else your seat. The bailiff tells me there’s a slew of other folks outside who are just panting to get in. Am I making myself clear here?”

  The room immediately drew quiet.

  “Good,” Ingle said. “Mr. Croghan, please call your first witness.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. I call Mrs. Fedora Nye.”

  * * *

  KAY WATCHED Fedora Nye rise timidly to her feet. Croghan gently took her elbow and escorted her to the witness box. She slogged beside him, clutching her small, black purse to her breast with both hands as though it were some kind of lifeline. She reluctantly relinquished her stranglehold on it when asked to raise her right hand to swear to tell the truth.

  She lowered herself nervously to the edge of the witness chair. Her bowed shoulders and movements bespoke a weary woman in her late fifties. When she stated her name and address for the record, the judge had to ask her to pull the microphone closer to her mouth and speak up.

  “Mrs. Nye,” Croghan began. “Fedora,” he corrected himself with a smile at his client. “When did you meet your husband, Roy?”

  “In high school.”

  “Tell us about those days.”

  Her face lightened momentarily, losing a few of its lines and its years. “It was right after I was picked for the cheerleading squad. The gym coach said I learned the cheers faster than anyone. It took a while to convince my parents to let me wear the short skirt of the uniform, however. They were very strict.”

  “This was a private, religious high school they had sent you to, wasn’t it?”