Bruce DeSilva - Providence Rag

Reginald Baer, deputy chief of psychiatry at Butler Hospital, sat stiffly in the witness chair, his posture that of a man in need of disk surgery. He wore a navy-and-white polka-dot bow tie and clutched a copy of his report in both hands. Attorney General Roberts paced in front of him, a duplicate rolled in his left fist.

“If you would,” Roberts was saying, “please tell the court where and when you conducted your psychiatric evaluation of Kwame Diggs.”

“On July twenty-six, twenty-seven, and thirty at the Corrections Department’s High Security Center in Cranston, Rhode Island.”

“And how long were these sessions?”

“Approximately two hours each, for a total of six hours.”

“Did the inmate cooperate? Did he answer all of your questions willingly?”

“He did.”

“Since the court has already had the opportunity to review your written evaluation, I’d like to skip ahead to your conclusions.”

“Fine.”

“Did you find that Mr. Diggs is suffering from a mental illness?”

“I did.”

“And what is your diagnosis?”

“Mr. Diggs suffers from bipolar disorder.”

“And how long has he been bipolar?”

“It is impossible to say with certainty, but given the answers he provided about his childhood, the onset was probably in his early teens.”

“Please explain in laymen’s terms what bipolar disorder entails.”

“Bipolar disorder is often referred to in the vernacular as manic depression. It is characterized by extreme mood swings that range from severe depression to feelings of euphoria. An example many people would be familiar with is John Nash, the Princeton University graduate student portrayed by Russell Crowe in the film A Beautiful Mind .”

From his seat in the jury box, set aside once again for press, Mulligan saw Roberts wince. In the film, John Nash was a sympathetic figure.

“Are some bipolar patients more debilitated than others?” Roberts asked.

“Most certainly.”

“Please tell us how it has affected Mr. Diggs’s ability to function.”

“In his case, the condition was accompanied by an inability to develop genuine friendships and intense feelings of resentment toward society. His isolation led him to construct a fantasy world, which, over time, became more real to him than the world the rest of us live in.”

“Did Mr. Diggs describe this fantasy world to you?”

“He did. It involved violent daydreams, sometimes accompanied by compulsive masturbation.”

“Are individuals such as Mr. Diggs likely to cross the line between fantasy and reality and act out their daydreams?”

“Only rarely.”

“But in this case, he did?”

“Yes.”

“Excuse me,” the judge broke in. “Dr. Baer, you are referring to the murders that Mr. Diggs committed more than a decade ago, is that right?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“And he has not acted out his daydreams on any occasion since that time, is that correct?”

“It is, Your Honor, but in prison, he would have had no opportunity to do so.”

“Thank you. Mr. Roberts, you may proceed.”

“Dr. Baer,” the attorney general said, “did you find that Mr. Diggs is suffering from any other mental problem?”

“I did.”

“And that would be?”

“Antisocial personality disorder, or ASPD.”

“Please explain that condition to the court.”

“Persons with severe ASPD are malignant narcissists. They lack empathy and are typically deceitful, impulsive, manipulative, and incapable of feeling guilt.”

“In layman’s terms, someone with ASPD would be considered a psychopath, isn’t that correct?”

“Objection,” Diggs’s lawyer, Felicia Freyer, broke in. “Mr. Roberts is leading the witness.”

“This is not a criminal trial, Miss Freyer,” the judge said. “Please refrain from unnecessary objections that waste the court’s time. Dr. Baer, you may answer.”

“Psychopath is not a term I care to use, but it would be the layman’s term, yes.”

“There are degrees of ASPD, are there not?” Roberts asked, continuing his incessant pacing.

“There are.”

“Is there a test for measuring its severity?”

“Several. I prefer the Hare Psychopathy Checklist, a group of twenty criteria that measure a person’s antisocial behavior on a scale of one to forty.”

“Did you perform this test on Mr. Diggs?”

“I did.”

“And what did you find?”

“He scored a twenty-six.”

“I see. And what would be an average score in the general population?”

“Four.”

“So Kwame Diggs’s score was nearly seven times normal?”

“Six point five times, to be precise.”

From the jury box, Mulligan saw that Freyer was furiously scribbling notes.

“In your opinion, Doctor,” Roberts said, “is Mr. Diggs in need of inpatient psychiatric care?”

“Yes.”

“And in your opinion, would he be a danger to himself or others if he were to be released without such treatment?”

“In my medical opinion, he would be, yes.”

“Thank you, Dr. Baer,” Roberts said. He stopped pacing and took his seat at the prosecution table.

“Miss Freyer,” the judge said, “do you wish to question the witness?”

“I certainly do, Your Honor.”

Her huge glasses were gone today, and her blond hair had been sheared to a gentle swirl that barely brushed her shoulders. She had hoped to hire her own psychiatric expert, but Mrs. Diggs couldn’t afford it. Nevertheless, the young lawyer appeared confident as she rose to address the witness.

“Dr. Baer, are you saying that my client is a psychopath?”

“I never used that term.”

“Forgive me, Doctor. I believe you prefer to call it antisocial personality disorder, is that correct?”

“It is.”

“And according to your testimony, my client scored a twenty-six on the Hare test used to diagnose this condition, is that also correct?”

“Yes.”

“Are you aware, Doctor, that according to Kent Kiehl and Joshua Buckholtz, who wrote about this condition for Scientific American, a patient is not considered a psychopath unless he scores at least thirty on the test?”

“Again, I must object to the term psychopath, but I am aware of their work, yes.”

“Are Kiehl and Buckholtz recognized experts in this area of study?”

“They are widely considered to be, yes.”

“Do you agree with their conclusion?”

The witness hesitated and began fussing with his bow tie.

“Dr. Baer?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Is there some reason your report failed to mention that Kwame Diggs’s score on the Hare test was too low for him to be diagnosed-if I may be excused for repeating the term-as a psychopath?”

“I can only assume that it was omitted in error.”

“In error ?” Freyer said, putting all the incredulity she could muster into the question.

“Yes.”

Freyer smirked, shook her head in mock dismay, and consulted her notes.

“During your evaluation, Doctor, did Mr. Diggs express sympathy for the victims of his crimes?”

“He did.”

“On six separate occasions, isn’t that correct?”

“I would need to review my report to be sure, but that is approximately correct, yes.”

“Were his expressions of remorse sincere?”

Again with the bow tie.

“They appeared to be so, but it is impossible for me to say with certainty.”

“If my client were a true psychopath, would he be capable of feeling remorse?”

“He would not.”

“So if I understand your testimony, then, Doctor, my client is not a psychopath. Isn’t that correct?”