The Insanity Plea (5 page)

(Twenty years
earlier)

In the months after walking in the
park with his senior partner, Dan’s conduct deteriorated even further. Bob
Gardner had come to the end of his rope. He called Mary Lee and said that the
only way that Dan could keep his job was if she agreed to an involuntary
commitment for seventy-two hours so that two county appointed psychiatrists
could evaluate him and make recommendations. After a tearful exchange, Mary Lee
reluctantly agreed.

While Dan was incarcerated, the
psychiatrists evaluated him and placed him on medication which he reluctantly
took. Three days later Mary Lee and Bob took the elevator to the third floor
where they found themselves in a white tiled hallway with blue walls. Four
plastic chairs faced a doorway to the courtroom. The room was small with three
audience benches and two tables facing a slightly raised judicial bench. A
probate judge came there twice a week to hear commitment proceedings. While not
a kangaroo court, it was close. The county had an attorney and one was
appointed for the patient to protect his rights, but everyone understood that if
the psychiatrists said that the patient needed to be institutionalized for thirty
days, it was going to happen.

Judge Samuels was a kindly man who
secretly dreaded this duty. He would candidly say it was hard not to be
pessimistic about our country’s system that was charged with caring for the
mentally ill. The clerks at the hearings had a favorite phrase, “Treat ‘em and
street ‘em.” Everyone knew that it was a revolving door since the landmark
Supreme Court case of
O’Conner v.
Donaldson
, decided in 1975. In it the Supreme Court said that “a State
cannot constitutionally confine a non-dangerous individual who is capable of
surviving safely in freedom by himself or with the help of willing and
responsible family members or friends.” The institutions like the one that held
Jack Nicholson’s character in
One Flew
Over The Cuckoo’s Nest
were mostly out of business. A well-intended
decision had created a nightmare which was compounded by the refusal of society
to fund treatment for the mentally ill. When Dan entered the courtroom, he
walked through that revolving door for the first, but certainly not the last, time.
Two burly deputies sat on either side of him, ready to act if he created a
scene. The hearing was brief. The two psychiatrists testified that Dan was at
risk of harming himself and medication would be beneficial. When Dan was given
the opportunity to testify, he rose and launched a verbal attack.

“Look, Judge. I’m an attorney. I
graduated first in my class at UT. I’m not sick. I’m not mentally ill.” By now
his voice was starting to grow louder. “I’ve had enough of this hospital and
I’m entitled to my freedom. I’m leaving.”

His face contorted with rage, Dan leaped
from his chair and charged toward the door. Within three steps the deputies
caught him and dragged him back to his chair where they held him. Judge Samuels
had seen such behavior too many times to count. That’s why the deputies were
selected for their size. He spoke in a calm voice.

“Mr. Little, I understand your
feelings and frustration. Your wife, Mr. Gardner, the doctors and I are all
just trying to do what is best for you. I’m going to follow the recommendations
of the psychiatrists and order thirty days of commitment and medications. You
must take the medicine. If you don’t voluntarily do so, you will be forced to
take it by injection. After your stay here, you can return to your wife and
job. Bailiffs, please escort Mr. Little back to his unit.”

With a bailiff on each side, Dan left
the room, refusing to look at Bob or Mary Lee. Bob stared out the window as
Mary Lee lowered her head and wiped her eyes.

The posse of four young professionals
got together with some regularity for drinks and dinner. Sometimes they dined
out and sometimes one or more cooked. All of them had advanced degrees and jobs
that involved problem solving. Particularly when one of them had a professional
problem that needed fresh ideas, it would be tossed to the others over dinner. Frequently,
a solution would magically appear toward the end of the evening. It was Duke
who began calling the group “the posse.” They usually weren’t out after bad
guys, except maybe when Rita brought one of her computer scams to the group. Still,
no one objected to Duke’s name.

On the morning after talking with
Wayne, Duke called Rita. “Hey, Senorita, what’s my favorite code buster doing
this morning?”

“If you must know, I’m sitting here
in my usual work uniform of shorts and T-shirt, not busting codes but trying to
break through the newest computer fraud. All of our clients are terrified after
what happened to Target. Nice not to have to fight the traffic to do my work.”

“Look, Wayne’s in a jam. I don’t understand
what’s going on. Can the four of us meet at your place this evening? We got
some powerful talking to do with him. Since you’re right next door, he won’t
have any excuse not to get his butt over to your place.”

“Strange, you know I see Wayne nearly
every day. He hasn’t mentioned anything about a problem.”
   

“Apparently only came up yesterday
afternoon, darlin’.”

“Enough said. You and Claudia get him
over here about seven. I’ll make some of my mama’s enchiladas.”

Rita clicked off the phone and tried
to concentrate on her computer scam with no success. Her mind kept wandering to
her next-door neighbor. She started to step out her door, walk a few steps and
beat on his front door. Then she reminded herself that he was already at work. Besides,
it would be better for the four of them to discuss whatever it was together. Instead,
she put on a dab of make-up and some running shoes and walked past the pool to
the health club where she stationary biked, pumped iron and worked with the
machines for an hour and a half.

Rita’s parents had waded the Rio
Grande forty years ago. Her father planned the trip for years, even learning to
read and write English so that he could more easily blend into the work force
in the United States. When they got to Houston, he found a job in construction
and Rita’s mother cleaned houses. A few years later Rita was born. At first
they lived in an apartment with another family. Over the years her father
advanced to project manager for a home builder. When he advanced, they moved
into a single wide mobile home and then to a double wide on three acres in East
Houston.

When she graduated from high school,
she took a job as a secretary for a private detective. Six months later she convinced
her boss to let her become a licensed private investigator. That freed her
schedule enough that she began taking classes at the University of Houston,
majoring in computer science. After she completed her masters, she went to work
for a Chicago based company that investigated computer fraud for Fortune 500
companies. Extremely well paid, she had a virtual office in her townhouse next
door to Wayne.

Her relationship with Wayne was, to
say the least, strange. She had barely moved in when they met.
 
He found her out by the pool before he
realized she was his next door neighbor. Always an athlete, her figure at
twenty-eight was even better than it had been at eighteen. What Wayne saw was
one beautiful woman. Her five foot, four inch body was near perfect. A pink
bikini top barely contained her breasts. Her naturally bronze complexion had
been darkened by the summer sun. Her hair was black. While sunglasses hid her
eyes, he guessed them to be brown. She was alone at an umbrella-covered,
poolside table, a laptop and papers spread out before her.

Never bashful, Wayne walked up, stuck
out his hand and said, “Howdy, name’s Wayne Little. I live in 123.”

Rita looked up, lowered her glasses, smiled
and replied, “That’s interesting. I just moved into 122.”

Two years later, despite a strong
physical and emotional attraction, Wayne and Rita remained friends and
neighbors, nothing more. When he met Rita, Wayne had just come out of a lengthy
relationship with an obstetrician that ended tragically. He was not looking for
another. With parents who had to swim the Rio Grande to find financial security,
Rita refused to consider marriage until she had at least a million dollars in
her bank account. She was close but not quite there.

It wasn’t long after Rita bought her
place that Wayne began knocking on her door in the evening to enjoy a glass of
wine. Frequently, she would invite him to stay for dinner since she knew that
his kitchen contained very little but canned goods and beer. Wayne invited Rita
over to watch sporting events and DVD movies. On weekends they worked out
together in the fitness center, spotting each other with the weights.

Wayne still dated others on occasion
and so did Rita. Wayne even came back from a business trip with two “Do Not
Disturb!” signs. When one was put on the door, the message was clear.

Still, if Wayne didn’t have a date or
some buddy to see the Astros and Rockets play, he would invite Rita to climb on
the Metro and go into town. They usually held hands as they walked. Once in a
while one of them would slip and give the other a short good night kiss. They
had a strong bond and could easily have become something more than friends and
neighbors. Duke had repeatedly told Wayne that he was a damn fool for not pushing
the friendship to romance. Still, neither chose to risk doing it, at least not
yet. Both knew that affairs too frequently led to break-ups. Friendships more
often endured. So, they remained friends and neighbors.

Duke and Claudia burst through the
door without knocking. Duke ducked under the ceiling fan as he crossed the room
to put a bottle of Merlot on the bar and give Rita a hug. Claudia sat on one of
the barstools while Rita prepared a salad to go with the enchiladas she’d begun
preparing several hours before. Claudia breathed the aroma coming from the
oven, “Rita, I never even had an enchilada until I moved to Texas. Now I never
seem to get enough, particularly yours.”

Rita smiled. “And mine aren’t
Tex-Mex. My mama’s recipe comes from the heart of Mexico, with no gringos
tampering with the ingredients.”

Claudia Jackson was an African
American lawyer, originally from the mid-west. A Phi Beta Kappa degree from
Stanford led to Harvard Law School. She’d moved to Palestine, Texas to assist Johnny
Bob Tisdale, a famous plaintiff lawyer, in a nationally renowned trial
involving medical malpractice, a botched abortion and the issue of when life
begins. After a few years in the piney woods of East Texas, she chose to move
to Houston to work with the Duncan law firm. That had been five years earlier. Now
she was the newest partner. Tall, slender and black, she came close to matching
Rita’s beauty. Close enough for Duke. He asked her to marry him every
Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, Fourth of July, Christmas and randomly in
between. She was still saying no, but with less and less conviction. Both of
them knew that Duke just had to keep trying. Meanwhile, they lived together in
a high rise condo close to Memorial Park on the west side of downtown.

“Where’s Wayne?” Duke asked as he
opened the wine.

“He called, said he’s running late,”
Rita answered.

“Damn sure hope he doesn’t get cold
feet. That boy’s got a problem, and we have to help him.”

Before Rita could reply, the door
opened and Wayne entered.

Wayne’s mood was somber.

“Okay, Wayne,” Rita said, “what’s
going on?”

Resigned to the inevitable, Wayne
replied, “It involves my family’s past. I’d done my best to put it out of my
mind. Let’s eat and I’ll tell you the story after dinner. I warn you, though,
it may take a while.”

After a quiet dinner, Rita escorted
them to the living area and served coffee as they found seats. Quiet bossa nova
music by Oscar Castro-Neves played in the background.

Wayne hesitated as he gathered his
thoughts and began, “Okay, this is not going to be easy, even with my best
friends…”

“You want a shot of scotch instead of
coffee, Wayne?” Duke interrupted.
   

“Hell no. Coffee is fine. I need a
clear head to talk about my brother.”

“Your brother? I didn’t even know you
had a brother,” Rita said, astonishment apparent in her voice.

“Actually, he’s my half-brother. I’m
not sure where to start so I guess it might as well be at the beginning. Dan is
ten years older than me. His dad was in the merchant marines and was gone at least
six months a year. The rest of the time he was drunk. My mother finally had
enough and divorced him. After that he went off to sea and never returned. She eventually
married my father. My dad adopted him. Everyone clear so far?”

There were nods all around.

“Dan was my idol. He was a star
quarterback on his high school football team; graduated number one at UT law. Hell,
I couldn’t even get into UT law. He married his high school girlfriend and went
to work for Freeman and Caldwell. We were all damn proud of him. When the
problem surfaced, I was in school in San Antonio. I got a call from Mom,
telling me that Mary Lee had to commit Dan.”

“Probably drugs and booze, huh, Wayne?
He needed to dry out,” Duke volunteered.

“I wish it had been that simple. He
developed paranoid schizophrenia. You guys know what that is?”

“Yeah, one of the guys I knew in the
hood when I was growing up had fried his brain with drugs. He was bizarre.
 
You know what I mean? When I saw him coming, I
always crossed the street.”

“No, Duke, that’s not it. My brother
inherited this disease, probably from his real dad. We don’t know for sure. His
wife committed him when he started acting strange following a big trial. I
tried to see him, but he told the guards that he wouldn’t talk to me.”

“He was too embarrassed,” Claudia
offered.

“Probably not that simple,” Wayne
continued after pausing to sip his coffee. “They put him in a halfway house for
thirty days after the hospital and then let him come home to Mary Lee. He
seemed to be doing a lot better. He was taking his medications and his firm let
him come back to work, only it didn’t last long. He quit shaving and let his
hair grow long. He was fired for the last time when he told his boss that the
FBI had planted a computer chip in his head while he slept and his every
movement was being monitored.”

“What’d his wife do?” Rita asked as
she covered her mouth with her hand to hide her reaction.

“Mary Lee let him stay at home until
he started wandering off for days, saying he was being directed to do certain
covert activities by the FBI. After three or four disappearances, he was picked
up for peeing on the statue of Sam Houston in the park and committed again. That
was it for Mary Lee. She divorced him.

“He did let me see him in the
hospital that time. He insisted on a private room for our talk. He was very
proud that he had learned to cheek his medicine. One of the other patients told
him that he could be very agreeable to taking the pills, swallow a glass of
water and then stick the pills in his pocket until the next time he went to the
men’s room.

“Then he leaned over and whispered to
me that on that very morning he had starred in a movie with Marilyn Monroe. He
wouldn’t listen when I told him she’d died years ago. He also confided that he
was now being recruited by aliens for a secret interplanetary mission.”

Wayne slowed down as he re-lived the
experience. “What blew me away the most was that he really believed every word
he was saying. If I tried to challenge anything he said, he would get upset and
tell me that I was probably one of the ones out to get him.

“After the divorce Mom took him in. I
was in law school then.”

“Did you see much of him during that
time?” Claudia asked.

“Actually, I did. I wanted to support
Mom; so, I tried to get home as often as classes and studies would permit. At
least a couple of weekends a month. There were times when Dan seemed to be
improving or in remission or something. Mom would even get him to take his meds
for a while. He and I would take long walks along the seawall. For some reason
he seemed to be drawn to the water.

“Other times I would show up and he
was in his room and refused to come out. Once I got him out for a walk, and he
asked me if I noticed that the faces on the people we passed were distorted and
all bent out of shape. Of course they weren’t. Only, I couldn’t convince Dan.”

Duke had remained silent while he
heard the story and finally said. “Look, Wayne, this is your brother. Why
didn’t you help him?”

A forlorn look came over Wayne’s face.
He stared at the floor before speaking in a low voice, almost a whisper. “I
did, Duke. Mom and I tried everything. We took him to John Sealy Hospital. As
you know, the University of Texas has a medical school in Galveston. For a
while Mom took him to see a shrink every day. The doctors tried different combinations
of anti-psychotics. They would work for a while…sometimes. Then he was back to
saying that people were always talking to him and telling him what to do. He
thought they were real.”

“Was he still that way when you took
the job in Galveston and moved back home?” Claudia asked.

“It got worse. I was in the D.A.’s
office and knew a lot of the cops. One day a police cruiser pulled up to the
house. Dan had been gone for a couple of days. The police officer said that he
had been walking all over the island, carrying a big machete over his shoulder.
He didn’t hurt anyone. That’s probably the reason the officer brought him home
instead of arresting him. By this time he had been pretty much a regular in the
jail anyway.
 
Petty stuff…peeing on the
sidewalk; shoplifting from a convenience store; trespassing when a store owner
would ask him to leave and had to call the police. He did get in a fight with
another homeless guy about who got the last swig from some bottle of rotgut
whiskey. He busted the bottle over the other guy’s head and both of them got
arrested for disturbing the peace.

“Then there was a period of time when
he would go to the seawall every morning, find a bench and spend the day
watching the waves and pigeons. I was hopeful that he was entering a new, more
peaceful stage. I was wrong.”

“What happened?” Rita asked, actually
wanting this conversation to end yet feeling it wouldn’t, not any time soon.

“Two things. One was that he
threatened our mother with a butcher knife, claiming that she was a witch from
a coven that had been tracking him for weeks.
 
He scared the shit out of her. She had barricaded
herself in her room until I got home. By then Dan had calmed down and was
watching cartoons on television. The last straw was when he tried to set Mom’s
house on fire. He poured gasoline on the front veranda and was watching the
fire from across the street when the fire department came.

Wayne sighed. “Mom and I talked and
told him to move out. I put $5,000 in a bank account for him and gave him an
ATM card. I heard he chose SATN for a password.”

Rita was now in tears and excused
herself to her room. Duke stood and went to the bar and poured a double scotch
on the rocks. Claudia sat, silent.

“Come on, Wayne, finish it. How did
your brother get charged with murder?” Duke demanded.

Wayne shook his head. “I don’t know,
Duke. I haven’t even called Harry Klein or my mother. I’m not sure I’m going
to.”

Rita quietly returned to the room. “Wayne,
did you say your brother’s charged with murder?”

“Yeah, capital murder. That could
mean death by lethal injection.”

Wayne rose, poured himself more
coffee and, without saying another word to his friends, walked out to the pool.

“I better join him,” Rita said.

“No, leave him be,” Duke admonished. So
they left him alone for close to an hour while they talked in low tones. They
had run out of conversation when Wayne appeared at the door again. Anguish
clouded his face.

“I’m sorry, guys. Mom and I did
everything we could for Dan nine years ago. I told you yesterday, Duke, that I
don’t have a brother any more. He’ll have a public defender. I’ve been able to
put those years behind me. If I get involved, I’ll be back in the middle of it
again. Hopefully, the defender can get him off. Maybe on an insanity defense. I
can’t deal with it.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

Wayne walked out the door and
disappeared into the night.