by Parnell Hall
“I see,” Judge Washburn said. He looked at Franklyn. “Do you have anything further to add?”
Mr. Franklyn smiled. “No, Your Honor. I think the witness has stated the case quite admirably.”
Washburn nodded. “Mr. Winslow?”
Judge Washburn watched with some interest when Steve Winslow arose. The witness had certainly left the young attorney enough openings. Jason Tindel’s testimony, while devastating, was certainly a mass of opinions and conclusions. Tindel didn’t know that Jack Walsh carried large sums of money on him. Tindel didn’t know Jack Walsh lived on the subway—he’d only seen him there once. Judge Washburn expected Steve Winslow to rip into him on those points.
Steve didn’t. He merely smiled and said, “And what do you do, Mr. Tindel?”
The witness was clearly unprepared for that question. He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“What’s your job? Your occupation? What do you do?”
Jason Tindel cleared his throat. “At the moment I’m between jobs.”
“You mean you’re unemployed?”
“I don’t mean I’m unemployed. I’m between jobs.”
“Are you employed?”
“No.”
“Then you’re unemployed, aren’t you?”
Tindel frowned again. “I’m not employed at the moment.”
“I understand. Are you collecting unemployment insurance?”
“No.”
“Have you applied for unemployment insurance?”
“No.”
“Do you intend to apply for unemployment insurance?”
Franklyn arose. “Your Honor, I fail to see the point of this.”
“Surely the interest of the parties is relevant,” Steve said.
“It is,” Judge Washburn said. “As you well know,” he added with a glance at Franklyn. “Proceed, Mr. Winslow.”
“Do you intend to apply for unemployment insurance?”
“No, I do not.”
“Are you eligible for unemployment insurance?”
Tindel took a breath. “No.”
“I see,” Steve said. “As I understand it, in order to be eligible for unemployment insurance, you must have worked twenty-six weeks out of the last year. Am I correct in assuming you haven’t done that?”
Franklyn was on his feet again. “I point out, Your Honor, to qualify you must work twenty-six weeks for an employer who is paying FICA wages and withholding unemployment insurance. Many people are self-employed or work other jobs which don’t qualify.”
“Exactly,” Jason Tindel snapped. “I happen to be self-employed, so the questions really don’t apply.”
“Oh, you’re self-employed, Mr. Tindel?”
“Yes, I am.”
Steve Winslow smiled. “So we come back to my original question. What do you do?”
“I’m a consultant.”
“A rather broad field, Mr. Tindel. With whom do you consult?”
“I am employed by various firms.”
“Name one.”
“What?”
“Name one firm you’ve worked for in the past year.”
“In the past year?”
“Yes.”
Jason Tindel frowned. “Well, now ...”
“And what is your field, Mr. Tindel?” Steve put in. “What do you consult on?”
“The stock market.”
“Ah,” Steve said. “The stock market. And are you a stock broker, Mr. Tindel?”
“No, I’m not.”
“No, I didn’t think so,” Steve said. “So, you give people advice on the stock market. If that advice pans out, you’ve got a nice tip coming. Is that right?”
“No, it isn’t,” Tindel said hotly.
“Oh? In what way is it wrong?”
“Well, it’s ... Well, damn it. You just make me sound like a race track tout.”
“I certainly beg your pardon, Mr. Tindel,” Steve said. “I don’t know how anyone could have possibly have gotten that impression.
“Let me ask you something. You stated that Jack Walsh’s estate is worth several million dollars?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re attempting to have Jack Walsh declared incompetent?”
“That’s right.”
“And yourself and your wife named conservators?”
“Yes.”
“And in the event that that happens, you and your wife will suddenly find yourself in control of several million dollars?”
Jason Tindel said nothing. He merely glared at him.
“Well,” Steve said. “That’s certainly a nice position for someone who’s unemployed to find himself in.” Steve shrugged. “No further questions.”
Judge Washburn looked at the witness. Then at Franklyn. “Have you anything further with this witness?”
“No, Your Honor,” Franklyn said.
“Very well,” Judge Washburn said. He referred to the paper. “Now, at the time of his incarceration, Mr. Walsh was observed in the subway station by Mr. Fred Grayson. I think we’ll hear from him next.”
Fred Grayson seated himself on the stand. Once again, Judge Washburn took up the questioning.
“Mr. Grayson, what is your relationship with the petitioner, Jack Walsh?”
“My wife is also his great-niece. She is the granddaughter of his brother.”
“I see. Now on the afternoon in question you observed the petitioner, Jack Walsh, on the subway?”
“Actually, first I saw him on the street.”
“Where?”
“On 34th Street, between Madison and Fifth Avenue.”
“What was he doing?”
“Ah, walking along.”
“What did you do?”
“I followed him.”
“Where did he go?”
“He walked east to Park Avenue, down a block to 33rd Street, and went into the subway.”
“What did he do there?”
“Well, there were some bums with blankets camped out at the far end of the station. He walked down there and began talking with them.”
“What did you do?”
“There was a pay phone in the station. I called Jason Tindel, told him to rush the papers over.”
“The commitment papers?”
“That’s right.”
“How is it you had commitment papers ready?”
“Jason and I had previously approached a doctor at Bellevue Hospital and apprised him of the situation. He drew up the papers, and told us if we could locate Jack Walsh, he would have him brought in for observation.”
“So you called Jason Tindel and told him to bring the papers?”
“That’s right.”
“What happened then?”
“I stayed in the station, keeping my eye on Jack Walsh. About forty-five minutes later Jason showed up with two hospital orderlies. They served the papers on Jack and took him off to Bellevue.”
“Did he object?”
“Yes, he did.”
“How?”
“Screaming, kicking. He was like a wild man.”
“How did the orderlies subdue him?”
“With a straightjacket.”
“Jack Walsh was taken to Bellevue in a straightjacket?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you accompany him to Bellevue?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Along with Jason Tindel?”
“That’s right.”
“What happened there?”
“A psychiatrist examined him and ordered him committed.”
“Was the examination done in your presence?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Judge Washburn frowned. “I think that’s all. Do you have anything else, Mr. Franklyn?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Winslow?”
“Yes. Mr. Grayson, are you employed?”
“Yes, I am.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a diamond broker.”
/> “Is that right? Where is your place of business?”
“I operate out of my own home.”
“And where is that?”
“Teaneck, New Jersey.”
“Teaneck, New Jersey? Is that also the home of Jason Tindel?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Now, when you say a diamond broker—that means you sell diamonds?”
“That’s right.”
“But a diamond broker’s different than a diamond merchant, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“In what way?”
“A diamond merchant sells gems. A diamond broker arranges sales.”
“I see. In other words, you don’t sell your own gems?”
“No.”
“You have no stock or inventory? No diamonds of your own?”
“That’s right.”
“You find a person who wants to buy diamonds, and another person who wants to sell diamonds, and you act as a middleman?”
“Yes.”
“Now you say you conduct your business out of your own home?”
“That’s right.”
“Which is Teaneck, New Jersey?”
“That’s right.”
“Is that the same place you were conducting your business from a year ago?”
“No, it is not.”
“And where were you conducting your business from then?”
“Great Neck.”
“That’s also where you were living?”
“That’s right.”
“Is that also where Jason Tindel was living?”
“That’s right.”
“The place in Great Neck, where you and Jason Tindel were living and where you were conducting business—was that also the house of the petitioner Jack Walsh?”
“That’s right.”
“How long had you been living there?”
“For twelve years.”
“I see. So when Jack Walsh sold the house out from under himself, he also sold it out from under you and Jason Tindel, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, had you ever paid any rent on the house in Great Neck?”
“No.”
“You’d been living there for twelve years, and never paid any rent?”
“Uncle Jack wouldn’t charge his relatives rent.”
“I see. But you are paying rent on the house in Teaneck?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Gee,” Steve said. “After twelve years of not paying any rent at all, that must be a considerable shock. Tell me something—if Jason and Rose Tindel are declared conservators of Jack Walsh’s estate—would you stop paying rent then?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never discussed that matter with them?”
“No, I did not.”
“The matter ever cross your mind?”
After a pause, the witness said, “No.”
“Then you have no interest whatsoever in the outcome of this hearing?” Steve said.
“I want to see that Uncle Jack’s interests are protected.”
“By protected you mean placed in the hands of Jason and Rose Tindel? The people with whom you have not discussed whether this action would enable you to stop paying rent?” Steve smiled. “Thank you. I have no further questions, Your Honor.”
“That’s all Mr. Grayson,” Judge Washburn said. He glanced at his notes. “It is at this point that I would like to question the petitioner. Unfortunately, he’s unavailable. Now, Mr. Franklyn, you say you have a psychiatrist here to testify to that effect?”
“That’s right. A Dr. Gerald Feldspar. He is on the staff at Bellevue Hospital, and is the doctor who admitted Jack Walsh.”
“Very well. Dr. Feldspar take the stand.”
Dr. Feldspar turned out to be a plump little man, some sixty years old. He wore thick-lensed glasses, and had a rather pompous manner. He bustled up to the witness stand, sat down, pushed his glasses back on his nose, and peered up at the judge in a manner that bordered on insolence.
“You name is Dr. Gerald Feldspar?”
“That’s right.”
“What is you occupation?”
“I am a psychiatrist at Bellevue Hospital.”
“Are you acquainted with Jack Walsh, the petitioner in this action?”
“I am. He is a patient in my care.”
“At Bellevue Hospital?”
“That is correct.”
“How long has he been there?”
“He was brought in two days ago.”
“And you were the doctor who admitted him?”
“That’s right.”
“Could you describe the circumstances under which you committed the petitioner?”
“Certainly. It was about three in the afternoon. I was summoned to my office with the news that a patient had been brought in. I arrived to find that two hospital orderlies had brought in the subject. He was a white male, some seventy-five years of age. He was unshaved, uncombed, unwashed, dressed in close to rags. He was disoriented, irrational, incoherent. He was also violent and had been subdued by a straightjacket.”
“What did you do?”
“I attempted to calm him down and reason with him. Which was, I’m afraid, next to impossible. Upon examination I discovered the subject to be a paranoid schizophrenic with psychopathic tendencies. In, I might add, a very advanced state.”
“You ordered him committed at that time?”
“I did.”
Judge Washburn picked up a paper from his bench. “Doctor, are you aware that his attorney has filed a writ of habeas corpus, asking that the petitioner, Jack Walsh, be released, and that the court has issued a ruling to the effect that he be produced at this hearing?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then why is he not here?”
“He is not competent to be here, Your Honor.”
“I understand your contention. Could you elaborate?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Certainly, Your Honor. As I said, the patient is confused and disoriented. He also suffers from delusions of persecution. His advanced state of paranoia makes the patient very hard to reach. It also makes him violent. I have no doubt that given time we will be able to help him to some degree, but at the present time he is a danger to himself and to others. At any rate, his presence here in court would serve no purpose. He is not competent to understand these proceedings, let alone take part in them. To bring him into court now would only confuse and frighten him, and deepen his neurosis, and make our job of reaching him that much harder.”
“I see,” Judge Washburn said. “Mr. Franklyn. Have you anything to add?”
Franklyn rose. “Just a couple of questions, Your Honor. I’d like to make one point clear. Dr. Feldspar, did I notify you of the court order to produce the petitioner at this hearing?”
“Yes, you did.”
“As well as the habeas corpus served on Jason Tindel?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Did Jason Tindel also inform you of that fact?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Then the fact that Jack Walsh is not here in court has nothing to do with any failure on my part or on Jason Tindel’s part to comply with the habeas corpus, is that right?”
“Absolutely. Mr. Walsh is not here for medical reasons, as I have testified.”
“Thank you, Doctor. That’s all.”
Judge Washburn said, “Mr. Winslow?”
Steve Winslow took his time. He rose slowly, walked around the table, stopped, and looked around the courtroom. First at the judge, then at Franklyn, then at Mark Taylor and Tracy Garvin, who were seated just behind his table, then at the relatives, and finally at Dr. Feldspar.
“Medical reasons?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“By that you mean psychiatric reasons?”
“That’s correct.”
Steve chuckled softly and shook his head. “Well now, Dr. Feldspar, I must say I have some trouble following this.” Steve gestu
red around the courtroom. “This is a competency hearing. The purpose of this hearing, as I understand it, is to determine whether or not Jack Walsh is competent. And yet, here you are, testifying that he’s not competent to take part in it.”
“That happens to be the case.”
“I understand your contention. It just seems like something out of Joseph Heller, doesn’t it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Referring to the novel, Catch 22. You say Jack Walsh isn’t competent. I say he is. I say, O.K., bring him here and we’ll prove it. You say, no I can’t do that. I say, why? You say, because he isn’t competent.” Steve shrugged. “Little bit of a problem there, Doctor. I understand you’re a psychiatrist, but it seems to me you’ve also made yourself judge and jury.”
Dr. Feldspar drew himself up indignantly. “I’ve done nothing of the sort. I’m giving you an expert medical opinion based on the existing facts. Now you may not happen to like it, but it happens to be the case.”
Steve smiled. “Ah, Doctor, interesting word. Opinion. That’s just it. It is your opinion that Jack Walsh is incompetent. It is my opinion that he’s not. So it seems we have a difference of opinion. On the very matter we want the court to decide. Fine. Then let’s discuss it. What is the basis for your opinion, Doctor?”
“I’m afraid as a layman, you couldn’t possibly understand.”
“Well, I’m willing to try. Go ahead, Doctor. Let’s talk diagnosis, prognosis, and the care and feeding of the paranoid schizophrenic.”
“Oh, Your Honor,” Franklyn protested.
“Yes, yes,” Judge Washburn said. “Mr. Winslow, if you could try to avoid such flippancy.”
“Sorry, Your Honor,” Steve said. “All right, Doctor, you ordered Jack Walsh committed. Let’s talk about that. You say you were summoned to your office, you found two orderlies had brought in a man in a straightjacket?”
“That’s right.”
“And was this the petitioner, Jack Walsh?”
“Yes.”
“You examined him and ordered him committed?”
“That’s correct.”
“Tell me about the examination.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What did you do? What tests did you administer that allowed you to conclude that Jack Walsh was insane?”