Order in the Court (16 page)

I covertly texted Brandon the details as the defense established Dr. Wagner’s credentials. Haywood had told me her findings had been fairly innocuous, consistent with what one might expect from someone who could shoot their sister in cold blood. No surprises. It was a wonder the defense called on her at all, as nothing in the report indicated Dustin was not a killer. Nothing indicated he
was
a killer, either, but at least Dr. Wagner was not prepared to say anything that would damn our case.

Haywood interested in how they’ll try to spin her findings in their favor
, I texted quickly. My phone was on silent with vibrate shut off. I still kept it as hidden as I could in the pleats of my skirt, the same one as yesterday. Almost immediately Brandon’s reply appeared:

Keep me posted. Traffic is slow.

The questioning had begun. Dr. Wagner did not look in my direction at all as she answered Kovač’s questions.

“Did you have a chance to review the crime scene and the evidence?” she asked.

Dr. Wagner nodded. “I did, and I created a criminal profile on the shooter based on that information.”

Kovač looked pleased. She was up to something. “Could you tell us a little about the crime and the process through which you built that profile?”

“It was a crime of opportunity, and of passion. It takes a lot of rage to do what was done that day. The motive wasn’t clear from the crime scene, but it was certainly personal.” Dr. Wagner cleared her throat. “Typically, a killer’s first victim is the most significant. In a spree the first victim is often the main target and subsequent killings are out of necessity or are collateral damage.”

“Katherine Barrett was the first victim, in this case?”

“All the evidence suggests that she was the intended target of the attack and the first person to be shot,” Dr. Wagner agreed. “The shooter likely had a connection to her.” Her eyes strayed to Dustin Adams. I couldn’t fathom why the defense was allowing her to testify. She was adding nails to the lid of his coffin.

“What else did you learn about the killer from the physical evidence?” Kovač asked.

“Unfortunately, not much. There was not a lot of physical evidence in this case. The bloody footprints entering both bathrooms suggests a deliberate attempt to remove witnesses, which speaks to the killer’s state of mind. He was operating at a level of competency that enabled him to control the situation.”

“Let’s go over what we’ve covered so far,” Kovač said. “The killer displayed extreme rage but desired control over the situation. He was mentally competent while committing the crime. He had a personal connection to Katherine Barrett. Does that about sum it up?”

“Yes.”

“Was the killer using drugs when he committed the crime? Cocaine?”

“I cannot determine that from the crime scene alone. Nothing at the scene indicated behavior associated with cocaine use, but not all drugs affect all people in the same way.”

“But the killer was definitely cognizant at the time of the shooting—he was aware of what he was doing while he was doing it?”

“Absolutely.” Dr. Wagner’s voice was convincingly strong and sure. “This was a premeditated crime. The killer arrived knowing what he wanted to do and followed through on that plan.” She anticipated Kovač’s next question and answered it. “I cannot determine if the crime was planned extensively beforehand or if, when the opportunity arose, the killer took advantage.”

“You interviewed the defendant, correct?” Kovač asked after a moment, as though deciding which direction to take the interview. As if she didn’t have every single question planned out.

“I did. Several times, in fact, over the past few weeks.” Dr. Wagner still looked collected and calm.

“What can you tell us about those meetings?”

“Dustin seemed very calm when I spoke with him. He was friendly and polite. He answered my questions about his childhood with a surprising amount of honesty and maturity.”

“Did he ever admit guilt during these interviews?”

“No, he maintained his innocence.”

“Did he ever show any signs of guilt during the interviews—did he display any suspicious behavior, shiftiness?”

“He did not display any signs of guilt.” She still did not waver. I was proud of her. Being on the stand is extremely taxing.

“Did he talk about his sister at all?”

“No. She was absent from almost all the childhood memories he shared with me.”

“Could this have been a result of grief?” Kovač all but demanded.

“Many patients find it difficult to talk about loved ones who have died,” Dr. Wagner agreed, “However—”

“My client shows a common sign of grief. He is a brother grieving the loss of his only sister. He displayed no signs of guilt during the
weeks
of interviews conducted by Dr. Wagner, and, by her own description is calm, friendly, and polite.”

“Objection!” Haywood said, and the judge nodded.

“Agreed. Is there a question in there somewhere, Kovač?”

“Yes Your Honor, I was getting to it.” Kovač smoothed down the front of her jacket with both palms as though brushing off the objection. “Dr. Wagner, in your expert opinion, was there any evidence discovered over the course of your psychological investigation of Dustin Adams that he murdered his sister?”

Dr. Wagner looked a little frazzled now. She said, “No,” in a smaller voice, a less confident voice. She had been backed into a corner.

Kovač said, “No further questions, Your Honor.”

I felt myself deflate. They had found a way to spin it in their favor. I texted Brandon a quick update about what had happened. The jury was murmuring contemplatively, which was not a good sign.

Haywood took his time in getting himself together. He shuffled some papers, straightened his clothes, and then approached Dr. Wagner for his cross-examination.

“Dr. Wagner,” he said kindly, and although I couldn’t see his face, I knew which one he was wearing. It was the same he’d used to comfort me when I was in her position. “You were cut off during your testimony. Would you like to finish what you were going to say?”

Dr. Wagner sighed with relief. “Yes. I was asked if the defendant’s inability to talk about his sister was the result of grief. While it may have been, that is not evidence from which to draw the conclusion that he is grieving. In fact, it may also be an indicator for other psychological problems. The erasure of siblings from childhood memories could be an indicator of a narcissistic personality disorder.”

“You said that during your interviews, the defendant did not display any signs of guilt. Have there been recorded cases of convicted killers who displayed the same apparent lack of guilt?”

“It’s quite common among psychopathic killers to display a lack of guilt or remorse for their actions. Some psychopaths learn to fake empathy, but they ultimately blame their actions on other people and are unable to place their actions in a moral framework or take responsibility for them.”

“Is it possible that the defendant is not displaying any signs of guilt not because he is innocent, but because he is a psychopath?” Haywood asked bluntly, and, as I expected, Kovač objected. Loudly.

“Objection! Not only is that a leading question, but it calls for the operation of the defendant’s mind—”

“I’ll allow it,” Judge Gillis said, banging his gavel once for emphasis. When Kovač tried to object again, he shut her down with a gruff, “You were just as leading in your examination of the witness, Mrs. Kovač. Let her answer the question.”

“It is possible. However—” Dr. Wagner looked like she was waiting to be interrupted, but Haywood simply stood still and waited patiently for the rest of her answer. “However I did not have enough time with him to definitively make that diagnosis. It is incredibly difficult to diagnose psychopathy.”

“Did the defendant ever openly grieve during the interviews? Did he mourn his sister?”

Dr. Wagner said, “No,” but this “no” was strong and confident, not the “no” of someone being forced to say “no.”

“He didn’t cry or say that he was sad, even?” Haywood sounded surprised, but I knew that it was mostly acting. He had a plan to turn this our way again.

“Not once. Any direct questions about her he turned into questions about himself.”

Murmurs from the jury and the gallery. A good sign, in our case.

“Over the course of your psychological examination of Dustin Adams, did you find any evidence that directly suggests that he could not have killed his sister?” Haywood’s question, phrased almost exactly like Kovač’s got a laugh out of some of the audience. Even Dr. Wagner smiled.

“No, I did not.”

“Nothing further, Your Honor.”

“Mrs. Kovač, would you like to reexamine your witness?” the judge asked, sticking to conventions. He was surprised when she nodded and stood back up, clearly expecting her to say no.

“You said that you did not have time to adequately determine whether or not my client is a psychopath,” Kovač said as she walked toward Dr. Wagner. “You spoke with him several times over three weeks. How long would such a diagnosis take?”

“Months. Psychopathy is notoriously hard to diagnose. You have to observe minute contradictions in a person’s behavior and answers to determine if they are faking empathy.”

“Do all diagnoses take so long?”

“No. For serious cases of certain psychological problems, I can sometimes make a rough diagnosis with one interview. Most take three or four interviews before I get a clear and complete picture. I spread my appointments out over weeks and months so that I can see a patient’s development over time.”

“So in one interview, you could diagnose someone with, say, autism?”

“Maybe. It depends on the severity.”

“What about anxiety, depression? PTSD?”

“Again, it depends on the patient, the situation… there’s a lot of variables in making a diagnosis. You don’t want to rush that process.” Dr. Wagner actually sounded annoyed. It was a tone of voice I hadn’t heard before from her.

“Were you in the courtroom yesterday during the testimony of Corinna Nguyen?” My stomach dropped to the floor. I
knew
it. I
knew
she was going to do this.

“I was.” Dr. Wagner glanced at Haywood, so fast it was blink-and-you’d-miss-it. But I saw it. She looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“From Ms. Nguyen’s testimony alone, could you make up a rough psychological profile of her for us?”

“I could. However, I don’t feel comfortable—”

“You needn’t make an official diagnosis,” Kovač said, waving her hand to brush off interrupting Dr. Wagner. “But Ms. Nguyen made a claim at the end of her testimony yesterday that she was
traumatized
at the time she made her initial statement to the police. Do you, a psychological professional, believe that she is
traumatized
?” Kovač quickly added “Based on her testimony alone” when Haywood stood up. The judge held up his hand for silence; he was allowing the question, it said, don’t bother objecting.

“Traumatized is an imprecise word, not a diagnosis by any means,” Dr. Wagner pointed out. “However, Corinna did undergo a trauma, and was treated for shock at the hospital.”

My heart was beating rapidly. My dad squeezed my hand, and whispered, “We can go.” I shook my head no.

“Yes, yes, but do you think she is legitimately suffering from PTSD?”

“I cannot make a diagnosis of PTSD based on her testimony alone. In fact, I believe that this is an inappropriate line of questioning. I was brought to court today to testify to the psychological condition of Dustin Adams, on whom I prepared a detailed report. I am not a traveling circus!”

“I agree with the witness, this is extremely inappropriate,” Haywood cut in, stepping around his desk and approaching the bench. “Trying to delegitimize my witness’s testimony based on a drive-by diagnosis of PTSD not only further stigmatizes mental illness but brings prejudice into this courtroom. It is also invading the privacy of a seventeen-year-old girl who is already under scrutiny because this trial is being publicized, despite the key witness being underage!”

Kovač began yelling and then my mother began yelling and Dr. Wagner was trying to say something and I got up and left the courtroom as Judge Gillis banged his gavel, my thumbs already tapping away at a new message to Brandon.

The last text I’d gotten from him was about his bus coming into the city—he was nearly here. My hands were sweating so much that my thumbs left wet prints on my touch screen. My feet, moving slow as if through water, took me to the ladies’ room on the first floor; I waded down three identical stone hallways, empty but for my echoing footsteps.

In through the nose, out through the mouth
, I thought as I shouldered my way into the bathroom. I wasn’t getting enough oxygen. There was no air in this godforsaken place.

The bathroom was empty. I went to the farthest stall and locked myself in, toeing off my shoes and climbing onto the toilet. I perched on the water tank and tried to breathe, but my world was tilting sideways.

Up was down. I put my phone on the toilet paper dispenser.

Left was right. I put my hands on my face and my elbows on my knees—

In and out, nose and mouth.
I was rocking back and forth with each shaking breath. My hair swung like a curtain, back and forth.

A startled laugh escaped my chest, choked off a moment later by the lump in my throat. I felt like I was going to puke and cry and possibly crap myself all at once. My skin was crawling, itching, and my face was hot—

“Corey, you still in here?”

Was I hallucinating? I put my hands over my ears and continued to rock, the porcelain lid of the water tank clinking every time my butt slid back onto it. He’s not there, there’s just you and the in-out-in-out.

The door to the bathroom banged closed, and then there were feet in front of my stall. Men’s shoes.

“Corey, please tell me that’s you in there, or else I’m gonna get arrested.”

“Bee?” I squeaked, and I heard Brandon’s answering sigh of relief.

“Yeah, me. I ran here from the bus terminal. Let me in.” He sounded exhausted. I felt exhausted.