By Reason of Insanity (38 page)

"That's the good thing about murder trials," Quinn said dryly. "You find out who your true friends are."

"And who they aren't."

Quinn checked his watch. In a few minutes, the bailiff would call court into session. Quinn needed to take one last look at his notes.

"Things are going to get a little heated today. Boyd Gates is a first-class jerk, and there's no telling what he'll do to get a reaction from you. If you lose your cool even one time, the trial is over. Our whole case is premised on the theory that the Catherine O'Rourke on display in the courtroom did not and would not commit these crimes. A different personality altogether is responsible. Having that alter ego suddenly appear at trial would look staged and manipulative."

"I know that, Quinn," Cat said. "And I promise not to bull-charge the prosecutor or the judge."

"That would be nice."

"No promises on Jamarcus Webb, though."

"Maybe I can hold you back if you go after him."

"Maybe," said Cat. "But then again, you've never seen me mad."

78

"My name is Boyd Gates, and I have the privilege of representing the Commonwealth of Virginia."

The prosecutor stood ramrod straight in front of the jury box, holding a legal pad in his right hand, his left hanging at his side. He wore a conservative blue suit and red tie. His bald pate seemed to attract and reflect every ray of artificial light in the courtroom, except for those drawn to the ultra-shiny black wingtip shoes, buffed and polished as if Gates's former navy commander might stop by the courtroom for a quick inspection.

"'This is insane. What kind of warped person would commit a crime like this? She must be crazy to think she could get away with it. She must be sick.'" Gates stopped and surveyed the jury. "These are common expressions we use when we hear about a horrendous crime like the one in question. But these sayings do not reflect the legal definition of insanity. If they did, no criminal audacious enough to commit a truly horrible crime would ever go to jail."

The last statement was hyperbole, but Quinn knew better than to object. He tried to look disinterested, scribbling a few notes on his legal pad, chin in hand. "Don't look so mesmerized," he whispered to Catherine.

"The test of insanity under Virginia law is twofold." Gates consulted his legal pad, though Quinn knew he had the test memorized. "The first part is this: was the defendant, Catherine O'Rourke, at the time of the murder of Paul Donaldson, suffering from a mental disorder that kept her from knowing the nature and quality of the act she committed or, if she did know it, that prevented her from appreciating that the act was wrong? Or second, if she understood the nature of right and wrong, was she unable to control her actions, the so-called 'irresistible impulse' rule?"

Gates stopped reading and looked back at the jurors. "That's a lot of lawyer talk, but it all boils down to this: the insanity plea cannot be used by a defendant to excuse coldblooded and premeditated murder. And one of the ways to determine whether the defendant knew her conduct was wrong is to ask yourself this question: did she try to cover up the crime afterward? In this case, the answer is a resounding yes.

"The defense will rely upon a well-traveled psychiatrist named Dr. Rosemarie Mancini, the same psychiatrist who testified that Mr. Newberg's sister was insane when she killed her husband--"

Quinn jumped to his feet. "Objection, Judge. That's improper argument, not an opening statement."

Gates turned to face the judge, adopting a posture of indignity. "It's a fact I'll prove at trial, Your Honor. It's a preview of the evidence, and it happens to be true."

"Of course it's true," responded Quinn. "But so what?"

Rosencrance gave him a stern look. "You can make your so-what argument during closing statements, Mr. Newberg. I'm going to allow mention of your expert's opinions in other cases to be admitted for whatever relevance the jury chooses to grant them."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Quinn said grudgingly. He took his seat.

"As I was saying," Gates continued, "Dr. Mancini will suggest that this defendant has dissociative identity disorder, something that used to be called multiple personality disorder. Dr. Mancini will claim that, because of an alleged rape that occurred eight years ago, Ms. O'Rourke developed a second personality, one that has the ability to completely take over her body, one that the Catherine O'Rourke sitting here today didn't even know existed.

"But Dr. Mancini's opinion raises a slew of questions and ignores a mountain of evidence. First, the questions."

Quinn noticed that the jury seemed to be paying rapt attention to Gates. The prosecutor had chosen to forgo the normal chronological recitation of events and jump right into the core issues. To Quinn's chagrin, the tactic seemed to be working.

"If Ms. O'Rourke was indeed raped in college, could that rape have caused this entirely different personality, this so-called Avenger of Blood, to spring out of nowhere eight years later? Our expert witnesses will tell you that dissociative identity disorder is extremely rare and is almost always the result of persistent childhood abuse. If Ms. O'Rourke does have this psychosis and it developed from one instance of rape, then we are witnessing a first-of-its-kind occurrence, medical history in the making.

"And a second question: why did it take eight years, with no new trauma in the meantime, for the alleged psychosis to develop? Could it be that there is no psychosis here at all but just a calculating serial killer who believes that all rapists and their lawyers should be punished and that revenge is a dish best served cold?"

Quinn noted the way Gates just stood in front of the jury box, his feet rooted firmly in one place, as if unwilling to surrender even an inch of turf. Quinn was more of a pacer. The more intense Quinn became, the more he moved. He felt himself getting antsy even now. But Boyd Gates was a rock.

"There is also a mountain of evidence that proves this DID diagnosis is nothing but a smokescreen. DNA evidence links the defendant to the murder.
Undisputed evidence,
since the defendant admits she committed the crime. But you will also be shown extensive evidence of planning and cover-up. Ms. O'Rourke stalked the victim, luring him to a meeting by sending him pictures of his girlfriend being hugged by an unidentified man, a man whose identity O'Rourke promised to reveal at the meeting. Those photos, and the accompanying message from O'Rourke, were found under the seat of Paul Donaldson's car.

"And that's not all. The head medical examiner for the Hampton Roads area will testify that Mr. Donaldson died from electrocution. The defendant shaved two spots on Donaldson's scalp and one on his leg and then passed high-voltage electrical current through him for several minutes, frying both his skin and his internal organs. The medical examiner will tell you that Ms. O'Rourke continued to electrocute Mr. Donaldson for nearly five minutes
after
he had passed away, after he had quit moving or showed any other signs of life."

Quinn felt Catherine reach under the table and grab his hand. She squeezed, tension powering her grip. She stared at Boyd Gates's back, as if somehow her stare alone might stop him.

"And that's still not all. After the execution, the Avenger wrote a note taking credit for Donaldson's death. A strand of Ms. O'Rourke's hair was found on the adhesive part of the envelope. She also engaged in an elaborate attempt to conceal evidence, including throwing out her computer just before the police executed a search warrant at her house. She dumped some methohexital, a powerful anesthetic drug Ms. O'Rourke used to sedate her victim, together with bloody paper towels that contained both Donaldson's blood and O'Rourke's saliva, in a neighbor's trash can. Police never did find the clothes that Ms. O'Rourke wore that night, clothes that would presumably be spotted with blood from a gash in Donaldson's scalp. Does an insane person who doesn't know that she's done something wrong dispose of the clothes she was wearing and hide things in her neighbor's trash?"

Gates turned and cast an accusatory glare at Catherine. He motioned to her with a sweep of his hand. "This defendant is clever. She knows that the best place for the fox to hide is in the henhouse and--even better--right in the middle of those who guard the henhouse. So she pretended to have visions about the killings and nurtured a confidential police informant for her newspaper articles about the killings, all in an effort to become part of the inner circle of the investigation."

Gates turned back to the jury. "Catherine O'Rourke wanted to know every step the police were taking so she could stay one step ahead. But she made some fatal mistakes. Fortunately, those mistakes led to her arrest and quite possibly saved the lives of other victims, including the man whom the defendant says raped her in college."

Quinn stifled another objection. He wasn't sure about Virginia, but in Las Vegas lawyers couldn't make these types of boldfaced arguments during opening statements; they were supposed to just preview the evidence. But Marc Boland didn't seem to be bothered by Gates's monologue, and Quinn didn't want to call more attention to the prosecutor's arguments by objecting, so he decided to ride it out.

"This is not some kind of spur-of-the-moment, heat-of-passion crime where a demonic personality took control of the defendant's body. The Catherine O'Rourke sitting in this courtroom is the same Catherine O'Rourke who stalked Paul Donaldson, and took the pictures of Donaldson's girlfriend, and set up a meeting with Donaldson, and electrocuted him, and faked visions to ingratiate herself to the police, and later tried to cover it all up. Do you really think that some other personality magically took over the defendant's body at every stage of this crime, floating in and out of her body to do all these things? Do you really believe the defendant wasn't even aware that the crimes had happened? Do you really think she just happened to throw her computer away a few days before the police arrested her?"

Gates blew out a breath. "She's clever. She fooled a lot of friends and coworkers. She fooled the police for a while. Even now, she is fooling the defense psychiatrist, Dr. Rosemarie Mancini. And starting today, she wants to fool you."

Gates took a half step back and tilted his head. "She's clever all right. But crazy?"

He paused just long enough to gain everyone's attention. "Crazy like a fox."

79

For Catherine, the first day of the trial was surreal. As a reporter, she had covered major trials for years, wondering what went through a defendant's mind at times like this, trying to imagine what it felt like to have your fate in the hands of twelve fellow human beings in the jury box.

Now she knew.

It felt nauseating.

In the momentary silence that filled the courtroom after Boyd Gates's opening, Catherine sensed the eyes of a packed gallery boring into the back of her neck. She could almost hear the accusatory whispers accompanied by the sad shaking of dozens of heads. The presumption of innocence was a myth. She hadn't reserved her own judgment when she watched defendants squirm during the prosecutor's opening statement. And she knew others weren't reserving theirs now.

She thought about the impact this trial must already be having on her mom and her sister, sitting just a row behind Catherine. What about her remaining friends--the ones who had promised to stick with her no matter what--trying to reconcile this damning evidence with the Catherine they thought they knew?

Quinn introduced himself and reminded the jurors about their obligation to keep an open mind until they heard all the evidence. "The presumption of innocence is more than just a nice-sounding phrase," he said, his voice calm and reasonable. "It actually means something. Right now, my client, Catherine O'Rourke, is clothed in the presumption of innocence." He turned to look at Cat. "She is every bit as innocent at this moment as you and me." Quinn turned back to the jury but Catherine's eyes never left his back; she couldn't bear to look at the jurors.

"And she will remain innocent unless the prosecution removes that cloak by proving her guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. In this case, no such proof exists."

Catherine wished she could feel as confident as Quinn. In her mind, the cloak had already been removed, her naked guilt exposed for the world to see.

Habits die hard. And in this moment of ultra-stress, Cat resorted to her reporter persona, jotting down words that captured her emotions.

Vulnerable. Transparent. Frightened.
Listening to Quinn, she still couldn't believe this was happening.
Who am I really?
she wondered. And then she jotted down another word.

Confused.

The jurors definitely had their game faces on; that much was clear to Quinn. But it felt good to finally be in front of them, even though he could have used a few more days of prep time. This might be Virginia, but this was still a courtroom, his stomping grounds, and this was what he did best. Plain talk to folks just like this.

Quinn had always been the legal magician, pulling surprise verdicts out of a hat, because he truly
believed
in juries. He wasn't like some lawyers who gave the jury system lip service but in their hearts feared the unpredictability of ordinary citizens. Quinn knew deep in his bones that the jury would understand his case. The rest of the world might not get it, but that didn't matter. Catherine's fate rested with these twelve and nobody else. Quinn trusted
them
.