Vigilare (19 page)

“Not exactly.”

Aubrey waits for her to elaborate. She does not. “What is the success rate of your patients? How many repeat offenders do you treat?”

“The national scale is based on statistics. Statistics of standardization, variances, select groups. There are people who defy statistics every day.”

“The tests you gave Ms. DeLuca to verify her sanity...aren’t they standardized, variant? Are you discrediting statistics?”

Dr. Ryan’s chin slowly settles from its arrogant position until it is leveled, her eyes narrowed, her head cocked slightly to the side. She has Aubrey Raines in the center of her crosshairs. “What I am saying, Ms. Raines, is that rehabilitation is subjective. What may be a simple step for one, may be a leap for another. The national scale is correct, give a percentage or two. However, it does not take into consideration, the varying degrees of rehabilitation. It’s very linear in it’s outcome.”

“What is the success rate of your patients, Dr. Ryan?” Aubrey continues, her focus unwavering.

“Higher than the national average.”

“The number, Dr. Ryan. What is the actual number, in terms of percentage?” Aubrey further jabs.

“I don’t know the exact percentage.” Dr. Ryan grins provokingly. “That answer should sound familiar to you,” she says, referring to Gina’s previous answers regarding her status as the Vigilare.

Aubrey grins back, her confidence growing. “Isn’t it true that all fifteen of those men in your care were repeat offenders?”

Dr. Ryan does not answer.

Aubrey picks up a journal, Dr. Ryan’s subpoenaed journal, and begins to read from its entry. “‘Thomas Sinclair, 32 years of age. Two prior counts of rape. Served a total of 18 months for both offenses. Released six months ago. Remains resistant to rehabilitation. Continues to attempt manipulation and blame tactics. Closed to acceptance and positive coping strategies. I fear he may repeat-offend.’” Aubrey turns the page. “I can continue, Dr. Ryan.”

“Yes,” she says. “They were repeat offenders.” She crosses one leg over the other. “That proves nothing. All addicts fall off the wagon occasionally.”

“Addicts? Now there’s a disease for sex offenders? How convenient.” Aubrey turns to the courtroom at large, extending her arm and index finger. “Can you identify that man?”

“Yes.”

Aubrey waits quietly, as if to say,
Well then, go ahead
.

“Randall Barnes,” Dr. Ryan clarifies.

“Mr. Barnes is in your care as well?”

“Yes.”

Aubrey flips through the journal, searching for his name.

“Two previous counts of sexual misconduct,” Dr. Ryan offers.

“With a child,” Aubrey adds. “One, a 15 year old boy, the other, a 12 year old boy. And currently, he is being tried for the attempted rape of a 15 year old girl.” The courtroom lights up, a-buzz with protest. Randall is protected by two police officers, one to the right of him, the other to the left.

“Objection,” Mr. McVain asserts. “Randall Barnes is not on trial here.”

“Sustained,” Judge Carter concurs.

Aubrey slaps the journal down on the defense table. The sharpness of the journal against the wood regains the attention of the room. “Sounds like rehabilitation is working great for him.”

“Ms. Raines,” Judge Carter further addresses her, “your novice status in the courtroom has garnered you a few exceptions. However, it does not excuse you from the obligation of conducting yourself appropriately.”

Aubrey nods, her attention pulled back to Dr. Ryan.

“Just exactly what do you propose we do, Ms. Raines? Unleash a lynch mob and promote vigilante justice? It’s an ignorant society that thinks it can bring about change through the employ of fear and force.”

Aubrey approaches nearer the witness chair. “You seem to have great sympathy for these men. Have you forgotten they rape women and children?”

“Most of these men were victims of sexual abuse, as well as other forms of abuse. Where do you think they learned such behavior?” Dr. Ryan reasons.

“Victims?” Aubrey questions, disbelieving. “When exactly did the predator become the victim?”

“You tell me,” Dr. Ryan responds, her touché aimed directly at Gina.

Aubrey moves on. “Isn’t it true Detective Gronkowski, the same detective you so willingly dragged through the mud in your earlier testimony, saved you from becoming a victim? Randall Barnes’ victim?”

“That’s a bit of a stretch, Ms. Raines,” Dr. Ryan responds, a haughty chuckle emerging.

“You’re denying Detective Gronkowski walked into your office when Randall Barnes had you pinned in a vulnerable position, holding you by force?”

“I had full control of that situation,” Dr. Ryan snaps. “Detective Gronkowski broke in like some macho male chauvinist, eager to save the damsel in distress.” She leans forward, her hands resting across the railing of the witness chair. “I assure you, I am no damsel.”

“I am well aware of that fact,” Aubrey scoffs. “In fact, at one time you were considered a suspect in the murders.”

Dr. Ryan chuckles. “Sure I was. Detective Gronkowski needed someone to take the fall for his gal pal.”

“Who better to be involved in the alleged murders than the psychologist who has access to pertinent information concerning the men—their cases, previous arrests, current addresses, everything.”

“Objection,” Mr. McVain calls.

“Sustained,” Judge Carter repeats. “Dr. Ryan is not on trial here, Counselor.”

Aubrey affirms. “You stated earlier that Detectives Gronkowksi and DeLuca were protective of their files and lacked empathy for the deceased. You were describing yourself, weren’t you, Dr. Ryan?”

“I have to be protective of my files. Patient confidentiality is key in my line of work,” she responds, unshaken.

“Did you tell Ms. DeLuca you believed the department had its priorities screwed up, focusing on the deaths of convicted rapists and pedophiles, when they could be helping innocent people?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Okay,” Aubrey circles the area in front of the witness stand. “I have a question that requires only one word, yes or no.” She faces Dr. Ryan, her eye contact intense. “Do you believe any of the fifteen deceased men were capable of rehabilitation?”

Dr. Ryan meets her eye contact with equal intensity. “No.”

“In your professional opinion, would they have repeated past behaviors of rape and sexual assault?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe those men deserved to die?”

“
Deserved
to die? No. Better off dead? Yes,” Dr. Ryan clarifies. The questions and answers fly off one another, surprising Gina and Tony, and nearly offending Mr. McVain.

“Do you believe the murders may have been in self-defense? Is it possible the men were, in fact, repeating old patterns, and Vigilare came to the rescue?”

“Yes. And yes, except for the Vigilare reference. I do not believe in such nonsense,” Dr. Ryan clarifies.

“I know it to be true. The Vigilare. She saved me.”

“Objection. Testifying. She’s an attorney, not a witness,” Mr. McVain spouts, his tone completely disinterested as if he can no longer bear Aubrey’s lack of experience.

“Sustained.” Judge Carter follows her ruling with an exasperated glance toward Mr. McVain.

Aubrey regroups. “Others believe in the Vigilare, as evident by the rally held at City Hall.” She looks around the room, a few heads nod affirmatively. Her attention returning to Dr. Ryan, she continues, “Why do you believe the men are better off dead?”

“Maybe they can finally be at peace,” she says very matter-of-factly.

“And maybe their victims can, too,” Aubrey adds.

Dr. Ryan nods.

“To clarify, you believe the defendant, Gina DeLuca to be clinically sane?”

“Yes.”

“And, you believe the murders, of all fifteen previously convicted rapists and child molesters, could have been committed in self-defense?”

“Yes.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.” Aubrey takes a seat beside Gina at the defense table.

Dr. Ryan shares an unexpected respectful glance with Gina as she passes her after being released from the witness stand. Tony remains confused, albeit pleasantly so, by her seemingly purposeful contradictory testimony, unclear as to her angle.

Chapter 12

JUDGE CARTER EYES the clock. “Your next witness, Counselor.”

    “Prosecution calls Dr. Bernard Shaw.” Mr. McVain remains seated until Dr. Ryan makes her way back out into the courtroom and Dr. Shaw, of the white coats, is sworn in and takes his seat in the witness chair.

“Please state your occupation,” Mr. McVain directs his witness.

“I am Chief Medical Director for the U.S. Government, ETNA Division,” a surprisingly quiet, high-pitched voice emerges from a tall, robust frame.

“What exactly is the ETNA Division?”

“We deal in the supernatural. Anything that may be out of the ordinary.”

“Unidentified Flying Objects? Aliens? Things of the like?” Mr. McVain questions, with a disbelieving smile.

“Something like that.” Dr. Shaw smiles back. “You may be surprised at what we find, Mr. McVain.”

“I’m sure I would be.” He drags his hands through the length of his hair. “Vigilares...you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Not until this case.”

“You were brought in to test Ms. DeLuca. Is that correct?”

Dr. Shaw smiles again. “I wouldn’t exactly refer to it as a
test
.” He shifts his weight, propping himself onto his elbow in order to better face the jury. “We observed Ms. DeLuca. Our job, to find anything extraordinary.”

“Did you? Find anything extraordinary?”

“Yes. Ms. DeLuca has a very rare blood type.” Dr. Shaw looks to Gina, pride in his inflection. She rolls her eyes, unimpressed, as her memory of the white coats poking and prodding her for days was anything but extraordinary. “The only one in the world, that we know of, to exhibit such a blood type.”

“What is the significance of this blood type?” Mr. McVain leads.

“At this point, the only significance is that Ms. DeLuca is truly unique. One of a kind.” Again, he smiles at her, beaming, further annoying her.

“I wish he’d quit looking at me like some kind of lab rat,” Gina mutters to Aubrey, swiftly turning her attention from him.

“We may not know the significance, if any, for some time,” Dr. Shaw continues, causing Gina’s ears to perk up.

“Other than the blood, did you find anything extraordinary about Ms. DeLuca that would lead you to believe she could be superhuman...a
Vigilare?
”

“For some time?” Gina questions aloud, causing Mr. McVain to turn in her direction.

“Shh,” Aubrey directs.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Ms. DeLuca, would you like to question the witness?” Mr. McVain says sarcastically.

“Are you hoarding my blood?” Gina ignores Mr. McVain, her question directed at Dr. Shaw.

“First, you try to tell me how to do my job. Then, you try to do it for me,” Mr. McVain needles.

“Order,” Judge Carter demands, banging her gavel. “Ms. DeLuca, your Counsel will have plenty of time to ask questions during cross-examination.”

Dr. Shaw says nothing, a grin surfacing on his lips.

“You son of a bitch,” Gina snarls, leaning offensively across the defense table.

Mr. McVain grabs at his chest dramatically at her outburst. Aubrey gently takes hold of Gina, coaxing her back down into her chair.

“Order!” Judge Carter bangs her gavel incessantly until the courtroom quells. “Ms. DeLuca,” she continues, wielding her gavel in Gina’s direction. “One more outburst and I’ll hold you in contempt of court.” Gina leans back in her chair, her arms folded defiantly over her chest, her eyes fixed on Dr. Shaw. Judge Carter shakes her head, momentarily tidying herself and her desk. “Proceed, Mr. McVain.”

“My apologies Madam Judge,” he says. “We’ll attempt to maintain some semblance of civility.” He looks at Gina accusingly. His efforts wasted, as she refuses to draw her stare from Dr. Shaw.

Unimpressed with his aggravating attempt at chivalry, Judge Carter remains mum, her lips pressed firmly together. She hastily motions toward the witness, urging Mr. McVain to carry on.

He does so expeditiously. “Did you find anything substantial that would lead you to believe Ms. DeLuca is the Vigilare? Superhuman strength?
Sparkling emerald green eyes?
” he reads disbelieving, from the compiled reports.

“Unfortunately, we did not,” Dr. Shaw replies.

“Unfortunately?” Mr. McVain asks.

“The possibility is exciting.” Dr. Shaw’s eyes widen with wonder. “Reading through the reports, we expected to find something...someone truly extraordinary. We don’t get much satisfaction in the ETNA Division. A lot of potential. Some promise, every now and then.” His manner growing flat and disappointed. “But, most of the time the things and people we investigate are just exactly that, things and people. Maybe once every fifty years, we truly find that diamond in the rough. That one connection to life outside of Earth.”

“Is Ms. DeLuca that diamond in the rough?”

“Unfortunately, no, she is not. We monitored her for a full week, twenty-four-seven, round-the-clock. We never witnessed the sparkling emerald green eyes, nor the superhuman strength.” Dr. Shaw meets Gina's glare. “We did, however, witness a strong character with much resolve, unwavering in her attitude,” he says, putting his hand up to the side of his mouth, his lips visible to the jury-side and continues, “which could use some adjusting at times.” He smiles. “She can be very accommodating or extremely noncompliant.”

“How so?”

“She would pull and push and kick against the restraints, swearing like a sailor, during standard procedure testing,” he embellishes. “Nothing painful, simple psychological and physical evaluations. Sometimes to the point of convulsing and knocking herself out, completely unconscious. We tried several times to witness Ms. DeLuca in the state of the Vigilare. Each time unsuccessfully.”

“It is my understanding her temper was such that you actually lost a few team members, because they refused to work under such conditions.”