The Insanity Plea (8 page)

Wayne opened Rita’s door and was
greeted by the aroma of gumbo simmering on the stove. It reminded Wayne that he
hadn’t eaten since early that morning.

“Hi, sweetie,” Rita hollered from up
the stairs. “Let me save this stuff on my computer and I’ll be right down. There’s
some Chardonnay in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Wayne did as Rita suggested and took
a slow first sip. On an empty stomach, he chose to take it easy. Rita came down
the stairs wearing a green halter top and matching shorts. Her feet were bare
and she carried her own half empty glass of Chardonnay. She crossed the living
room to where Wayne was seated on a barstool and kissed him lightly. “You don’t
look so good. Tough day? You ready to talk?”

“How about a bowl of gumbo first? Then,
I’ll see if I’m up to it.”

Rita sat two bowls on the counter and
joined Wayne on a bar stool. Wayne sat in silence as he ate. Rita left him with
his thoughts, rising only once to put a Sinatra CD on the stereo.

Wayne managed about half of his gumbo
and placed his spoon in the bowl as he finished off his one glass of wine.

“Okay, I’m ready to talk.”
         

     
Rita took his hand and escorted him to her couch. She sat as close to
him as she could, thinking that the radiation from her body might improve his
mood. She began to caress his neck with her right hand.

“Wow, is your neck ever stiff. You’re
getting a Rita massage before you leave here. Now tell me,” she commanded.

Wayne spent the next hour describing
his meeting with Harry Klein, his failure to talk Klein into a plea bargain,
the behind-the-scenes manipulation of the victim’s father, his dejection when
he learned that Rasmussen was the prosecutor, the visit to the seawall and the
long hours in the cemetery.

“You didn’t mention talking to your
brother or mother, and who’s this Katherine Rasmussen?”

“Rasmussen is known as ‘Capital Kate.’
She had been in Klein’s office for about a year when I moved to Houston. She’s
now Klein’s chief prosecutor and tries every capital murder case herself. She’s
one of those fundamentalist Christians who believes that she is doing God’s
will. She never plea bargains and in the past ten years she has never lost a
case. As for my mother and Dan, I didn’t want to talk to them until I decided
what I was going to do. By the time I left the cemetery, I was more interested
in talking with you.”

 
“And that decision is what?”

“I’m going to defend Dan. The judge
has appointed some wet-behind-the ears kid to represent him. I’m taking over.” Wayne
coughed as he spoke and his shoulders slumped.

“Wayne, I’m only going to ask this
one time, one time only. You hear? Defending your own brother with his life on
the line, are you sure that’s the right thing to do?”

Wayne looked up with determination on
his face, “Yeah, Rita. I’ve been thinking about it all day. It’s gonna be tough,
but I’m up to it.”

Rita nodded her acceptance of his
decision, then rose from the couch and grabbed Wayne’s feet. “Here, stretch out
on the couch, face down. It’s time for that massage.”

Wayne did as he was directed and soon
felt Rita straddling his hips as her fingers worked their way into the knotted
muscles of his neck. Wayne was debating whether he enjoyed the neck massage or
the sensation of Rita’s legs more when he began to snore softly. Rita continued
her massage as she moved her hands down his back and then to his hips where she
let them linger until Wayne stirred. Smiling, she went to the hall closet,
found a blanket and placed it over him. With a kiss on his cheek, she turned
out the lights and tiptoed up to her bed.

“Wayne, are you out of your fucking
mind?” Duke hollered into his cell phone as he walked down the steps of the
Criminal Justice Center in downtown Houston. His profanity brought startled
looks from others on the steps. “Look, bro, I just got out of a hearing. I’m
heading to my car. I’ll be at the Fire Station in ten minutes.”

Less than ten minutes later Duke
turned his black Lincoln Navigator off Washington Avenue and into the parking
lot beside the law office known as the Fire Station. Punching in the code at the
back door, Duke bounded up the stairs and was greeted by Grace Hershey,
secretary and assistant to Tod Duncan and Wayne Little.

“Where is he, Grace? He didn’t sneak
out after I talked to him, did he?”

“He’s in his office, Duke. You better
take a couple of deep breaths and calm down. He’s got enough on his plate
without you shouting at him.”

“You’re right, Grace. My apologies.”

Duke walked down the hall to the
first door on the right and found Wayne at his desk, work piled in front of him,
but the glazed look in his eyes told Duke that Wayne was somewhere else.

“Hey, bro, let’s get out of here. The
garden’s a better place for us to talk.”

The two men went out the back door
into an urban paradise. It had been a pothole filled parking lot when Tod
converted the building. He bought the lot next door for parking and turned the
area behind the building into a garden with seasonal flowers, shrubs, palms,
and pathways alongside streams fed by a ten foot waterfall cascading down a
wall at the back of the property. Duke and Wayne sat at a wrought iron table
fronting the waterfall.

“Look, man, I’m sorry I shouted on
the phone. You just caught me by surprise when you said you were going to
represent your brother. Let me say this as firmly as I can. It’s a colossal mistake
for any lawyer to represent any family member in anything. And you’re talking
about capital murder. You know a lawyer’s got to be passionate in his
representation, but that passion has to be tempered with objectivity. How the
hell can you be objective with your brother’s life on the line?”

“I don’t have any choice, Duke. The
evidence against Dan is as strong as any I ever saw. Kate’s prosecuting and a
young public defender is up against her. It’s nothing close to a fair fight.”

“Shit, I forgot about Kate. I’m not
even sure that woman has a heart. She
actually
enjoys sending people to death row. I hear she even attends the execution of
the ones she puts there.” The garden was filled only with the sound of the
waterfall for a few moments and then Duke continued, “Let me do it, Wayne.”

     
“Do what?”

“Let me defend your brother. Hell, I
know you used to be a criminal lawyer but that was near ten years ago. It’s
what I do for a living, every day of my life.”

“Thanks, Duke. Appreciate the offer,
but he’s my brother and I made my mind up last night.”

“Dammit, if he’s your brother, then
he’s mine, too. If I can’t talk you out of this stupidity, then I can damn sure
join the team. I’ll be your second chair, only I warn you, I’ll be trying to
shove you out of that first chair every fucking chance I get.”

At eight o’clock the next morning, Duke
pulled his Navigator into the visitor lot at Wayne’s complex. He punched in the
code at the gate. When Wayne didn’t answer his door, Duke knew to try Rita’s. He
found Wayne, seated at Rita’s table, drinking coffee. Pouring himself a cup, he
joined them. Wayne and Duke had already decided to put on their lawyer outfits,
suit and tie, to visit Dan. Rita was still dressed in her sleeping T-shirt,
causing Duke to be momentarily distracted as he glanced at her breasts before
taking a seat. Duke didn’t realize that he had been caught.

“Dammit, Duke. I’m a woman. I’ve got
breasts. They come with the package. And, no, I don’t wear a bra at night. For
that matter, I don’t wear a bra much at all. If you can’t stop staring every
time you come in here, I’m going to tell Claudia. She’s well-endowed and she’s
your woman. You probably won’t get laid for a month.”

Duke tried to stammer a reply before
Rita and Wayne both burst out laughing.

“I’m just teasing. If I unloaded on
every man who looked at my boobs, I couldn’t walk down the street. A little
peek is okay. Just don’t stare.”

Duke laughed and began to drink his
coffee. He was actually pleased to see Wayne relaxing. He turned the talk to
the Houston Rockets and complained that they were so bad that he just might
have to come out of retirement, bad knee and all. Finally, Rita shooed the two
men out the door, saying that she had to get to her computer.

Wayne’s only complaint about riding
with Duke was that he knew that he would have to listen to rap music all the
way to the island.
 
The best he could
hope for was to get Duke to turn down the volume.

As they turned left on 18
^th
Street and parked in front of the old jail, Duke asked, “You ready for this, my
man?”

“Ready as I’m ever going to be. Let’s
do it.”

They walked up a ramp to the two
glass doors and entered a reception area with green tile walls and a darker
green floor. On one wall there was a pay phone, little used in the cell phone
age. A few people sat in plastic chairs, staring at the wall opposite them or
talking quietly. Duke and Wayne crossed the room and stood in front of a bullet
proof window with a two-way speaker. Wayne was about to push the buzzer when a
black guard saw Duke and hustled over to the window.

“Duke, we ain’t seen you in two,
three coon’s ages. You got too many rich clients to help out the brothers here
on the island?”

“Nah, dog. I still get down here. Usually,
though, my clients have already made bond. We’re here to see Dan Little.”

“You mean the wino that murdered that
nurse? What you doing representing a loon like that?”

“Go easy, my friend. This is Wayne Little,
the prisoner’s brother.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Little,” the guard said.
“I was out of line to talk that way. Let me get him to the lawyer room. I’ll
get you gentlemen in there as soon as I can.”

Five minutes later they were escorted
down narrow, dingy corridors to a small room with a metal table and three
chairs. They were just taking seats when another door opened and a guard
escorted Dan to the seat across from them. Wayne hid a look of horror as he saw
his brother. He had expected the worst, but this was even more than he had
anticipated.

The jailers had cut his hair and
trimmed his beard. The color of both was completely gray. Dan’s face was gaunt
and even in the jail’s orange jump suit, it was certain that he couldn’t weigh
more than one hundred and twenty pounds. Surgical tape covered his broken nose.
Dan’s affect was flat. He didn’t acknowledge their presence. He had to be on
triple doses of anti-psychotic medicines.

“Guard, can you take those handcuffs
off?” Wayne asked.

“Sorry, sir. He’s on the mental
health ward and he’s acted out enough that I have to leave him cuffed.” With
that, the guard excused himself.

Dan continued to stare through them,
as if he were alone in the room. Occasionally, he would smack his lips and jerk
his head.

“Dan, it’s Wayne. Do you remember
me?”

Dan continued to stare until a few of
the cobwebs clouding his brain parted. “You’re Wayne Little? You my brother,
ain’t you? Who’s this big dude beside you?”

“His name’s Duke Romack. He’s a
criminal lawyer. Do you remember that I’m a lawyer?”

Another pause.

“I used to be a lawyer once, worked
for a big fancy firm in Houston until the people came for me.” Dan’s voice
dropped to a mumble as he finished the sentence.

“Dan, look at me,” Wayne insisted. “First,
are you doing okay? I understand you got beat up pretty bad.”

      
Dan rubbed his abdomen. “I’m a little sore, but okay. Had worse beatings
out on the streets.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Dan thought a minute and replied, “Something
about that girl on the jetty…lot of blood…no pulse.”

“Look, Dan,” Duke injected. “We’re
your lawyers. Tell us what you remember.”

More cobwebs cleared and Dan spoke.
“Now I remember, someone telling me I was charged with murder. Didn’t do it. I
just found her.”

Then Dan’s eyes glazed over. Wayne
glanced at Duke as he realized that they were not going to accomplish anything
else. He motioned toward the door. Duke nodded his agreement.

 
“Okay, Dan, we’re going to leave now,” Wayne
said. “The guards have our phone numbers. You tell them if you want to see me. I’ll
be back in a couple of days. You understand?”

Dan nodded.

“One more thing. Do you know the name
of your psychiatrist?”

Silence as Dan appeared to be
listening to some other voice.

This time Wayne almost shouted, “Dan,
do you know the name of your psychiatrist?”

“Only thing I know is some big tall fellow
has a gray goatee, not as big as this guy here, comes over from the hospital
and checks on me. Little bit of an accent. Don’t know his name.”