Murder One (36 page)

LaBelle thanked the judge, then turned back to the witness. “Again, please tell the jury what Ms. Dalcanton’s problems were during the time you saw her.”

“Objection!” Christina said. The jury was probably getting tired of her interruptions, but this testimony was too damaging to allow without a fight. “Lack of foundation. Lack of specificity. More prejudicial than probative.”

“Three very different objections,” Judge Cable said, nodding. “And all of them overruled. Proceed, Mr. LaBelle.”

Dr. Fulbright nodded. “Initially, she was suffering from a variety of anxiety-related problems. As you may know, she was living in Stroud when the Level Five tornado hit a little more than a year ago. Her place of work was destroyed; many of her friends lost their homes and a few lost their lives. Close in time and proximity, she lost her parents, in a sudden and traumatic traffic accident. The psychological scars left by these incidents were profound. She suffered symptoms of anxiety, paranoia, and severe neurosis.”

Fulbright glanced down at her notes before continuing. “Shortly after the tornado eliminated her place of employment, she moved to Tulsa, a much larger city than she had ever lived in before. From a psychological standpoint, this was a major error in judgment; it simply added additional stress to a psyche already crippled and dysfunctional. She had far more trouble finding work here, ironically, than she would’ve had in Stroud. After a series of stressful failures and an arrest for shoplifting, she ended up working as a stripper, and if I’m not mistaken, worked as a prostitute on the side for additional income.”

“That’s not true!” Keri said. Her voice rippled through the courtroom. Her eyes were wide with horror and outrage. “It’s a lie!”

Judge Cable pounded his gavel. “Mr. Kincaid, control your client!”

“I will, your honor.” He leaned close to Keri. “Quiet now. We’ll get our chance.”

LaBelle continued. “What was the effect of this … difficult lifestyle on Ms. Dalcanton, Doctor? In your expert opinion.”

Fulbright straightened slightly. “Clearly, the stress of living in a shameful way, of taking her clothes off and exposing herself, several times a night, over and over again, combined with the previous bereavement and trauma, took a psychological toll on her. This was intensified by her younger brother, who lived with her, was quite religious, and did not approve of her new occupation. His repeated comments only intensified the guilt and shame she was already experiencing.”

“To what effect, doctor?”

She paused before answering. “To the effect that Keri Dalcanton was a seriously disturbed human being. Unstable. And deeply psychotic.”

“Objection!” Christina said, letting her anger show. She wondered if her objections were doing more harm than good, flagging all the important parts for the jury and making them unforgettable. Still, she had to try. “Speculation. Lack of foundation.”

“This is an expert witness, not a fact witness,” Judge Cable answered. “She’s allowed to give us her expert opinion, even if it is speculative. Overruled.”

LaBelle continued. “Doctor, could this condition potentially be … dangerous?”

“Definitely. And particularly so in the case of Keri Dalcanton.”

“Why?”

“Because Ms. Dalcanton has an extreme penchant for violence. One of the worst I’ve ever seen.”

The buzz in the courtroom was audible. And to Ben, most disturbing.

“Isn’t a taste for violence inconsistent with the rather fragile psyche you’ve described, Doctor?”

“Not in the least. It is precisely people like Keri Dalcanton, people with damaged or fragile egos, who end up committing most acts of sudden, irrational violence. The least provocation could’ve caused her to commit acts of depravity and extreme cruelty.”

LaBelle walked to the easel and uncovered the enlarged photo of Joe McNaughton’s mutilated body chained to the fountain. “Even this?” he asked.

Christina jumped to her feet. “Objection! This is not a fact witness, remember?”

“Sustained,” Judge Cable said, nodding. But the point had been made.

Ben watched LaBelle carefully as he glanced down at his notes, trying to decide where to go next. LaBelle was walking a narrow tightrope, and they both knew it. If he made Keri appear to be crazy, Ben might go for a verdict of not guilty by reason of insanity. On the other hand, if he didn’t make her seem seriously off-kilter, how could he possibly explain the enormous violence done to Joe McNaughton—even after his death? After all, Joe was not the first man who ever dumped his girlfriend. But he was the first one who ever got chained to the fountain in Bartlett Square.

“What’s your basis for your statement that Ms. Dalcanton had proclivities for extreme violence?” LaBelle asked finally.

“Her taste for the extreme is evident throughout her life and lifestyle. Take her sex life, for instance—”

“Objection,” Christina said. “That is not relevant here.”

Dr. Fulbright turned toward the judge. “I don’t agree, your honor. I believe it is.”

Judge Cable nodded. “You may speak.”

Fulbright turned back toward the jury. “From the start, Ms. Dalcanton’s sexual relationship with Joe McNaughton was shaped by her personal psychoses. They had, not just aberrant, but violent sex. Frequently. This is a manifestation of her proclivity for violence, a fondness she tried to suppress in everyday life, but which revealed itself during these moments of unbridled passion.”

“Your honor,” Christina said, “I must protest. This is simply an attempt to alienate the jury with repeated references to the defendant’s private sexual practices.”

“Not so,” LaBelle said. “This is keenly relevant to the matter of Keri Dalcanton’s thirst for violence—and the relevance of that is obvious.”

“Quite correct,” Judge Cable said. “Proceed.”

You dirty old man, Ben thought, even though he knew he shouldn’t. You’re enjoying this. You may pretend to be dismayed and above it all, but you’re really getting your rocks off with all this sin and sex stuff. You’re going to let it all in, prejudicial as it is, ’cause you enjoy listening to it.

“Were there any other indications that Ms. Dalcanton was suppressing a tendency toward violence?” LaBelle continued.

“Yes.” Again the good doctor glanced at her notes. “As I said, it was exemplified in her behavior. But it was also manifested in her words. Particularly in what she said during our therapy sessions.”

“I have to object again,” Christina said, her anger evident. “This is absolutely privileged. When my client went to this doctor, she presumed that what she said was confidential and would not be repeated—”

Judge Cable didn’t wait for LaBelle to respond. “I’ve already ruled, counsel.”

“But your honor, this goes to her most private—”

“I’ve already ruled, counsel,” the judge repeated, much louder than before. “If you interrupt again, I’ll hold you in contempt!”

Realizing it was useless, Christina sat down. “Did I push too far?” she whispered into Ben’s ear.

“There’s no such thing,” he replied.

“As I was saying,” Dr. Fulbright continued, “she was frequently preoccupied with violent fantasies.”

“Can you give us some examples?”

Dr. Fulbright paused, perhaps for the first time exhibiting some regret or concern for her former client. “She had a recurring fantasy in which she killed her parents, paying them back for the imagined cruelty they perpetrated on her during her childhood.”

Sitting next to Ben, Keri actually gasped.

Dr. Fulbright continued. “This was of course impossible, since her parents were already dead, but it didn’t stop her from fantasizing about it. She also, perhaps more pertinently, fantasized about killing her lover, Joe McNaughton.”

“Excuse me? Did you say Keri Dalcanton daydreamed about killing Joe McNaughton?”

“Yes.”

“Even before McNaughton’s wife broke up their relationship?”

“Well before. You have to understand that a sexual relationship in a personality as damaged as Keri Dalcanton’s is always complex. Her relationship with a much older, married man was a classic love-hate relationship. She slept with him, she felt dependent on him. But the feeling of dependence did not make her love him more. To the contrary, it made her, at some base level, hate and fear him.”

“That’s not true,” Keri said, so loudly everyone in the courtroom could hear. Her eyes were wide and teary. “It’s a lie! Make her stop lying!”

Judge Cable rapped his gavel. “Mr. Kincaid, you must control your client!”

Ben was so angry he could barely speak. I’ll control my client, he thought, when you control the courtroom and stop admitting this offensive testimony. “Ill do my best,” he managed.

Fulbright continued. “She feared Joe McNaughton would leave her, just as her parents had done, and she resented feeling dependent. Her violent instincts were never far beneath the surface. All she needed was a trigger.”

“And the trigger came when Joe McNaughton tried to break off the relationship.”

“That would be my evaluation of the situation, yes. She was confronted simultaneously with the loss of a man upon whom she had become dependent and a betrayal by the man she loved. Those barely suppressed violent urges rose to the surface and consumed her. Resulting in the tragedy at Bartlett Square.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” LaBelle said, “no more questions.”

Ben looked at Christina gravely. The weight on her shoulders now was enormous. The witness they had both thought would be minor had turned out to be more important than they could’ve dreamed. Before, perhaps the best thing the defense team had going for it was the fact that McNaughton’s murder was so horrendous that it was all but impossible to imagine that pretty little Keri Dalcanton could have done it. But Fulbright had turned all that around. Her testimony had succeeded in taking a near impossibility and making it psychologically plausible, if not probable—at least for the jurors, who did not know Keri as well as he did.

Christina leaned close and whispered. “Should I try to fight Fulbright on her own ground?”

Ben shook his head. “You heard the way this woman talks. All you’ll get is a lot of jargon and psychobabble. If you’re going to put a dent in her testimony—and you must—you’re going to have to carve out some ground of your own.”

“Got it.” She paused, then added, “Got any suggestions?”

Ben’s head moved slowly from side to side. “Haven’t a clue.”

“Is it traditional for psychiatrists to reveal their patients’ secrets in a public forum?” Christina asked when she reached the podium.

Fulbright’s lips pursed slightly. She was undoubtedly expecting this question, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant. “No.”

“When your patients come to you for help, don’t they expect you will keep what they tell you confidential?”

“No doubt. And I normally do keep patient secrets confidential.”

“But you made an exception for Keri Dalcanton.”

“I made an exception for murder!” Fulbright said forcefully. “Besides, the District Attorney’s office subpoenaed and collected my records, so my verbal testimony didn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know.”

“So that makes it all right?” Christina knew she’d never get a confession of wrongdoing out of this witness, but she did want to reemphasize for the jury what a traitor this doctor had been to her client. They might care. Maybe they’ve told their doctors a secret or two, also.

“Lives are in danger. That changes everything.”

“Joe McNaughton is already dead.”

“That’s right. And I want to make sure no one else joins him. I have a responsibility to society, as well as my clients.”

Ouch. One question too many. The nods from the jury box told Christina she had made a tactical error. She tried to recover. “Speaking of your responsibility to society, why didn’t you come forward with this information sooner?”

“I … don’t think I follow you.”

“You said you believed months ago that Keri had these violent tendencies, that they were barely suppressed, that she talked about killing her boyfriend. So why didn’t you warn him?”

Her words came slowly. “Well, there’s the confidentiality problem—”

“Please, Doctor, we can all see how seriously you take that. Why didn’t you warn Joe McNaughton that his life was in danger?”

“I …” She paused for a moment. “To be honest, I didn’t realize he was in danger.”

“Even after you heard Keri’s alleged fantasies?”

“Fantasies of this sort are not uncommon, particularly with disturbed personalities. In most cases, however, they turn out to be harmless. Delusions.”

“So at the time, you thought Keri was having harmless delusions.”

“I didn’t say—”

“When did you change your mind, Doctor?”

“Well, after the tragic events unfolded—”

“But why would that change your mind?”

“When it became obvious that Keri had acted on these—”

“Ah.” Christina leaned forward. “So you only changed your mind after the murder happened—because you
assumed
Keri had done it.”

“Well … given the circumstances …”

“Dr. Fulbright, Keri Dalcanton has not been convicted of this crime.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s obvious—”

“It’s obvious that you’re assuming she’s guilty. Even though she hasn’t been convicted.”

“I just—”

“So the truth is, you’re testifying against her, not based upon what she said, which you thought was harmless at the time, but based upon your assumption—your
guess
—that she’s guilty.”

Fulbright frowned. “I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, but that’s the truth of the matter. You thought Keri’s fantasies were harmless. Only after the murder did you think they were significant.”

“But who wouldn’t—”

“Doctor, let’s assume, just for the moment, that Keri is innocent, and that someone else committed the crime. In that case, Keri’s fantasies would go back to being harmless delusions, wouldn’t they?”

“I suppose, but—”

“So the truth is—your testimony doesn’t prove anything—except maybe that you can’t be trusted to keep your patient’s secrets secret.”

“Your honor,” LaBelle said, jumping to his feet. “That’s uncalled for.”