John Wayne Gacy (37 page)

“Yes.”

“What is that opinion?”

“That because of the continuous mental disease, he was unable to conform his conduct at the time prior to and during each of those acts.”

“Doctor, did you further have an opinion based on a reasonable degree of medical certainty as to whether or not Mr. John Gacy, because of the mental disease that you have described, lacked substantial capacity to appreciate the criminality of his conduct?”

“Yes.”

“What is your opinion?”

Her opinion was the same as her original report. According to this highly respected woman, whose field of study was specific to serial killers, whom she considered a special breed of individuals, persons that did not fit the standardized molds of human behavior or the ways in which these persons are categorized. It was this:

“Although superficial evaluation could not permit the development of other than an almost simplistic view of the mental disease of the defendant, a continuing evaluation shows a complexity of profound psychopathology not limited to one diagnostic category. Indeed, there is an incomplete recognition in the psychiatric diagnostic literature of the complexity and exact nature of the psychopathology. At least he may be said to be suffering from a psychosis with paranoid, intermittent delusional thought processes that is layered by a borderline syndrome of extremely low-level functioning. As such, the above results in a profound impairment that severely affected his ability to appreciate the criminality of his conduct and to conform his conduct to the requirements of the law.”

Dr. Richard Rappaport had a different diagnosis, a different take entirely, from Dr. Morrison’s. However, he seemed to arrive at the same place. Gacy was crazy. This after hours of testimony containing information like this:

“An electroencephalogram is a brain wave test which enables one to get a rough idea or approximation of whether or not there’s any gross pathology in the brain—brain tumors or space-occupying lesions in particular.”

And an hour later, he was saying this:

“The first characteristic under sensorium is orientation. Is the person oriented as to time, place, and person, and he was. He knew where he was, what time it was, who I was, and who he was. An individual with organic brain illness or psychosis might not be able to differentiate himself from another person.”

Finally, thank heaven, he said the following to Bob Motta on direct examination:

Q. “Now, Doctor, based on your examination, everything that you have reviewed in this case, your diagnosis, your expertise in the field of psychiatry, do you have an opinion based on a reasonable degree of medical certainty as to whether John Gacy suffered from a mental disease continuously and interruptedly prior to and including the date of January 1, 1972, through the present?”

A. “Yes.”

Q. “What is that mental disease?”

A. “Borderline personality organization.”

Q. “Now, based on a reasonable degree of medical certainty, was he suffering from that disease at the time of the alleged acts?”

A. “Yes.”

Q. “Do you further have an opinion based on a reasonable degree of medical certainty as to whether John Gacy, as a result of that mental disease, lacked substantial capacity to
conform his conduct to the requirements of the law at the time of each of the alleged acts?”

Kunkle. “Objection.”

Court. “Overruled.”

A. “Yes.”

Q. “And what is that opinion?”

Kunkle. “Objection.”

Court. “Overruled.”

A. “He did lack substantial capacity to control his behavior at the time of each of those crimes.”

Q. “And conform his conduct to the requirements of law?”

A. “And to conform his conduct to the requirements of law.”

Q. “All right. Now, Doctor, I want to ask you a few further questions. Would it change your opinion in any way if John Gacy had, prior to his arrest, told the police that he had no knowledge of the missing Piest boy?”

A. “No”

Q. “Why not?”

A. “Well, it is consistent with his ambivalent way of expressing his feelings. Sometimes he has knowledge, sometimes he has no knowledge, sometimes he denies, sometimes he acknowledges. His wavering and inconsistency is a great part of his disease.”

And so it went. So thank you, Doctors. Thanks to everyone. I guess that pretty much cinches it. All questions about our client have been answered. He’s nuts, just like we have been telling you. I guess we can all pack it up and go home, huh? I mean, if a doctor testifies that a guy has a broken leg, he has a broken leg, right? So if a doctor—hell, two doctors—testifies that our client has a broken brain, I guess that does it. Game, set, match. Let’s go. Don’t you people miss your wives and kids?

Apparently, I was jumping the gun a bit. It seems that all shrinks, although they are all doctors studying the exact same thing, don’t always agree. Plus, Kunkle wasn’t done with Dr. Rappaport. He cross-examined that man for over an hour. He actually tried to bring the fine doctor’s opinion into question. It wasn’t pretty.

He especially liked it when Dr. Rappaport described Gacy’s personality as being like an onion—many, many layers, which had to be peeled back—and Gacy’s alter ego as swiss cheese, with many, many holes, therefore he had no conscience. Kunkle had a bit of a field day with that on cross.

All in all, however, the fine doctor held his own against Kunkle.

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T
HE
S
TATE HAD
their doctors as well, of course. Sparks flew during the direct examination of one of the State’s experts, Dr. James Lewis Cavanaugh Jr.

Again, Bill Kunkle was asking the questions.

“During opening statements in this case, Mr. Motta referred to his desire that the defendant would be put in some mental institution or hospital for the rest of his life. Is that possible in Illinois, Doctor?”

I stood up. “Objection,” I said.

The judge asked, “Is what possible?” He was looking at Kunkle.

I continued my objection. “As to what is possible?” Kunkle continued without a ruling. “Is it possible to guarantee a person found not guilty by reason of insanity, and then committed to a mental hospital, Department of Mental Health in Illinois, will remain there for the rest of his life?”

Cavanaugh answered with the following words:

“Absolutely impossible, a guarantee. The whole thrust of legal impact changes on the ability to keep individuals many times—in my opinion, who need to be in hospitals—has been so extensive that we find it very difficult to keep people in hospitals who in fact
need to be there because of concern, which I can understand that to hospitalize is a deprivation of civil rights, and we live in a—”

He had gotten these words out. Then a small version of hell broke out.

What the fine doctor was saying was that there was no guarantee that if Gacy was found not guilty by reason of insanity, he would stay in an institution. He was implying that Gacy might walk out of court a free man.

Obviously, this was a terrible problem for us—actually, for everybody. This could be grounds for a mistrial. We all might have to start this whole thing over!

If the jury thought John was going to walk out of court, they would never vote for a “not guilty by reason of insanity” verdict—hell, would you? The only other problem with the testimony, aside from it being told to the jury, was this: It was not true!

This was the voice of an airhead academic spouting puffy, fluffy academic theory and speculating about his civil rights, not an area of his expertise. And even the puffy, fluffy academic theory was wrong.

Motta jumped to his feet. “Objection, Judge. Can we have a sidebar please?”

“Mistrial!” I said, as all the lawyers headed for the bench.

As we surrounded the judge and frantically whispered, tempers flared a bit.

“I am objecting to the materiality,” I began in hushed but heated tones. I went on. “He’s talking in terms of possibilities, talking in terms of civil rights, and none of it is material to the case. It creates an inference for the jury that may or may not be true. A guy like Gacy, I think, should spend the rest of his life in a mental institution.”

Garippo said, “Well, I don’t know.” The judge didn’t get to say anything else just then.

“Nobody knows!” I hissed. “How can he testify to that? If you are going to let him testify [to that], then I’ll call back every one of our doctors.”

The judge ruled that for now the testimony would stand.

Kunkle said, “All right.” He was just trying to calm things down. “Mistrial,” I said, but this argument would have to be shelved for later. We had a jury staring at us.

We returned to our corners. Kunkle continued questioning the witness, staying clear of the speculation that had been said.

When Mr. Kunkle was through with his witness, Bob stood up to cross-examine him.

Q. “Dr. Rappaport—oh, this is Dr. Cavanaugh, I see. Is that a Freudian slip? Dr. Cavanaugh, do you think that Mr. John Gacy needs to be in a mental hospital?”

A. “I don’t believe he would benefit from treatment …”

Q. “Do you think he needs to be in a mental hospital?”

A. “No, I don’t.”

Q. “You don’t? Could you describe the procedure regarding commitment after a finding of not guilty by reason of insanity?”

Kunkle. “Objection, the judge has already instructed the jury as to that.”

Judge. “Well, he may repeat it.”

Q. “He asked the question, Judge!” Bob was pointing at Mr. Kunkle.

Judge. “He may repeat it.”

Q. “We’ll find out.”

A. “The procedure is identical to that of any other patient when the issue of potential and involuntary commitment is raised. In order to involuntarily commit, the individual must demonstrate imminent danger to himself or others or has to be in such a state as to be adjudged essentially unable to care for himself or herself.”

Q. “Do you think that John Gacy presents an imminent danger to himself or others?”

A. “Imminent danger?”

Q. “Right.”

A. “No.”

Q. “All right, if he was found not guilty by reason of insanity, do you think he would pose an imminent danger to others?”

A. “I believe if he was found not guilty by reason of insanity, he would not meet the State’s involuntary commitment standards.”

Q. “Would you say that Mr. Gacy would be released?”

A. “If the law were followed, I believe he would have to be released.”

Q. “You would testify he was not a danger to the other people, Dr. Cavanaugh?”

A. “I would testify that he were not imminently—”

Q. “Do you call killing one person after another a danger to people or society?”

A. “It is certainly a danger to society. The standard—”

Q. “If he were released—”

Kunkle. “Objection.”

Q. “Would there be an imminent danger?”

Judge. “Should we go off to the side?”

33

W
E WERE BOTH
concerned about the lingering sting left over from the battle over Dr. Cavanaugh’s testimony. It was devastating to think about how that information was going to affect the jury’s collective thinking. It was an easy issue to obsess about. It could have put us off our stride. However, we had forgotten one thing: We were the attorneys for Mr. John Wayne Gacy and where Mr. Gacy was concerned, there was little time to obsess. There was always something new on the horizon.

On Friday morning of week 5, Gacy decided to be Gacy and add to the theatrics. Unbeknownst to Motta and me, Gacy had written a letter to the judge from jail two weeks prior. The judge gave it to us, and we read it and pretty much dismissed it. We had better things to worry about. Evidently, Gacy had not forgotten about the letter, and he had sent word to the judge that he wanted to discuss it.

Judge Garippo came out of chambers first thing Friday and explained that he had some matters to attend to before the jury was called. You can’t make this stuff up.

“Over two weeks ago, the record should show that Mr. Gacy wrote me a letter with a few complaints. I gave that letter to his attorneys and was assured that there was no problem. Today I have
received another letter from Mr. Gacy. Mr. Gacy, if you will step forward …” Gacy tentatively stepped up to the bench. “Is there anything you wish to say before this court?”

“No,” Gacy answered.

Garippo couldn’t believe his ears. “Pardon?” was all he could say. After all, it was Mr. Gacy who had contacted him.

Gacy stood there, arms at his side, shoulders slumped. “No,” he repeated.

The judge simply stared at him. “With respect to the letter?” he prodded.

Gacy was a study of befuddlement. He looked like a twelve-year-old boy that didn’t want to admit that he broke the window. “Well,” he said, “it’s written to you. The letter is between you and me.”

Garippo actually smiled ever so slightly and shook his head. “Well, under the law, there can be nothing between you and me. It has to be on the record.”

Gacy was downcast and slouched. I expected him to kick the toe of his right shoe into the heel of his left, the classic “Aw shucks” move. “You could do what you want with the letter,” he mumbled.

“Do what I want with the letter?” Garippo’s eyes twinkled.

“Yes.”

“All right, here’s what I will do with the letter. First, the letter will be made part of the record.” The judge raised the letter to eye level and peered through his gold-rimmed glasses. “It reads:

“Over two weeks ago, I asked that my trial be stopped, and I haven’t heard from you.

“When I asked my attorneys as to why we are not putting on more witnesses, I am told that we don’t have money to bring in an expert. I also asked for a mistrial. As never before has this court allowed a professional witness plants a seed in the jury head like it was done yesterday.

“I think that you can give them instructions until you’re blue in the face, and you won’t take that out of their heads. When Cavanaugh
said John Gacy would not qualify for commitment to a mental institution and would have to be set free if he were found not guilty by reason of insanity, as you know, other than so-called statements made by me and given in a self-serving manner by officers for the prosecution, there is only evidence that I own the house that was used for [bodies] their safekeeping.