No Cure for Murder
Page 32
As Lola and Jacob finished lunch, she turned to him. “How long has the jury been out?”
“They only had a few hours yesterday after the judge delivered his charge, so perhaps five or six hours.”
“What does the DA think?”
“Kevin Martin believes that Zoe’s refusal to negotiate a plea agreement is more proof of her narcissism and its associated denial. She’s going away for a long time.”
Jacob grasped Lola’s wrinkled hand and brought it to his cheek. “This whole thing has been disappointing. Do you think you might have done something for her in therapy?”
“I always think I can help people, but narcissists may be the most difficult group to treat. They have little insight, won’t admit that they need help, blame others and generally they are contemptuous of those wanting to help them. Will Zoe’s confrontation with the reality of a long prison sentence make any difference? Who knows?”
“I just don’t see how she can survive in prison.”
“She won’t have a choice.”
“What about suicide?”
“Narcissists don’t commit suicide. They love themselves too much.”
The phone rang nearly simultaneously for the prosecution and the defense.
“The jury’s back,” said the clerk of the court.
The courtroom buzzed with excitement as they awaited the judge’s arrival. Finally, the bailiff stood before the bench. “All rise.” as judge Horace Kemper took his seat.
“Bring them in,” intoned Kemper. “I’ll not tolerate any outbursts.”
After the jury took their seats, the judge turned toward the jury. “I understand you’ve reached a verdict. Will the foreman pass it on to the bailiff.”
“The defendant will rise,” said the judge. “How say you in the case of the County of Alameda against the defendant Zoe Spelling?”
The foreman, a thin, angular man in his sixties, held the verdict in shaky hands. “We find the defendant, Zoe Spelling, guilty on all charges.”
After a few moments of shocked silence, the audience applauded.
Zoe sat with her head down.
“Remove the defendant,” ordered the judge. “I will sentence her tomorrow at 10 a.m.”
Judge Kemper gaveled the court into session the next morning. The judge glared at Zoe. “Zoe Spelling, pursuant to the jury verdict returned yesterday, finding you guilty on all counts of the indictment, I’m prepared to impose your sentence.”
“Ms. Spelling, will you please come forward with counsel to the lectern.”
Zoe, beautifully dressed as usual, walked with Alan Hayes before the judge.
“Do you have anything to say prior to sentencing?”
Zoe looked into the judge’s eyes. “Yes, your Honor.”
“Go ahead.”
Zoe held her arms at her sides, squeezing her fists, her fingers turning white.
“I realize that anything I say now will come across as self-serving, but, at the moment, I’m rational enough to offer an explanation, not an excuse. God knows I didn’t set out to be a killer. I went into the medicine to help others, but along the way something went wrong, terribly wrong.
“I don’t understand how I could have done these things. I do remember the anger, the rage, the uncontrolled resentment and the sense that I couldn’t control myself.
“Standing here convicted of these crimes, I wish that I’d embraced all those efforts to help me, to treat me. I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t trust anyone or anything. I wish I could turn back the clock and have prevented all the misery I’ve caused. For that, I’m truly sorry.
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Judge Kemper shifted in his chair adjusting his robe.
“I’ve been on the bench a long time, Ms. Spelling. Of all the killers who stood before me, you may be the worst, the most evil, the most contemptible. To most people, each life has value. To you, it means nothing.
“You are correct when you said that the court might consider your statements to be self-serving. I find them incredible, unbelievable, as I do your assertions of regret. I don’t believe for one moment that you’re sorry for anything except for getting caught.
“You placed yourself in a position of trust. You ignored your oath to do no harm and you betrayed those you pledged to help.
“You watched as Shannon Hogan struggled valiantly to live, then on the brink of recovery you killed her in the cruelest of ways, paralyzed, unable to move, to breathe, a witness to her own death.
“The fact that P.J. Manning and Joshua Friedman stood on death’s door wasn’t enough for you. You had to deprive them and their families of their last precious moments together.
“The murder of Nathan Seigel and the attempted murder of Rory Calhoun were as senseless as the rest. Did you smile as you injected them with lethal drugs?
“You nearly killed Harry Rodman and tried to kill your mentor, your friend, Jacob Weizman, all to satisfy your pathological envy.”
Judge Kemper removed a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead.
“Intelligent and wealthy defendants pay smart lawyers and psychiatrists to come up with excuses, justifications for their evil acts. I’m pleased that this jury didn’t buy it, and neither do I. If I had the power, Zoe Spelling, you would remain in jail, where you belong, for the remainder of your natural life.”
Dateline, Oakland Tribune,
Dr. Zoe Spelling was found guilty in the murder of four and the attempted murder of two in the spectacular trial completed yesterday in Superior Court.
Judge Horace Kemper sentenced Dr. Spelling to a total of sixty years in prison.
Mr. Alan Hayes, the attorney for the defense, will appeal the harshness of the sentence.
Six months later, Jacob watched Lola reading a letter. “Another letter from Zoe?”
“We’re real pen pals now.”
“What’s she up to?”
“What isn’t she? Zoe’s studying law and I think she will soon flood the justice system with her work. She still must deal with the civil wrongful death suits filed by her victims and their families.
“They offered her psychotherapy in prison, but she says their shrinks are a joke. She wants to know if we’ll come visit.”
Jacob shook his head. “I’ll pass.”
“Me too. I don’t want to feed any delusions she’s created for herself.”
It was 9 a.m. when Jacob stepped into the bright morning sunlight. He’d spent four hours in the middle of the night with a sick patient. He was tired and anxious to get home for a few hours of sleep.
He walked down the emergency room ramp to the street level and the parking garage. As he waited at the crosswalk for the light to turn green, Jacob felt someone take his elbow. He turned to see a thirteen or fourteen-year-old girl smiling at him.
“Can I help you across the street, sir?”
Jacob felt himself flush with anger, then as he took a deep breath, he relaxed. He turned to the girl and smiled. “That would be lovely, young lady, just lovely.”
When they reached the other side, Jacob put on his best grandfatherly smile. “Thank you. If you have a minute, I’d like to give you some advice.”
About the Author
Dr Gold practiced internal medicine and nephrology (disease of the kidneys) for twenty-three years. He was an active participant in the hospital’s quality assurance program that monitored physician performance. In addition, Dr. Gold served a chief of the department of medicine and family practice.
Dr. Gold retired and set sail with his wife, Dorlis and their cat, Furina. They cruised Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean on a fifty-foot Sparkman and Stephens cutter. They sold the sailboat and cruised, Florida, the Bahamas, the United States east coast and Canada on a Nordic Tug,
They are back on land in beautiful Grass Valley, California with no ocean in sight.
Visit at: lawrencewgoldmd.com
ure for Murder