William Bernhardt - Murder One

“What’s your basis for your statement that Ms. Dalcanton had proclivities for extreme violence?” LaBelle asked finally.

“Her taste for the extreme is evident throughout her life and lifestyle. Take her sex life, for instance—”

“Objection,” Christina said. “That is not relevant here.”

Dr. Fulbright turned toward the judge. “I don’t agree, your honor. I believe it is.”

Judge Cable nodded. “You may speak.”

Fulbright turned back toward the jury. “From the start, Ms. Dalcanton’s sexual relationship with Joe McNaughton was shaped by her personal psychoses. They had, not just aberrant, but violent sex. Frequently. This is a manifestation of her proclivity for violence, a fondness she tried to suppress in everyday life, but which revealed itself during these moments of unbridled passion.”

“Your honor,” Christina said, “I must protest. This is simply an attempt to alienate the jury with repeated references to the defendant’s private sexual practices.”

“Not so,” LaBelle said. “This is keenly relevant to the matter of Keri Dalcanton’s thirst for violence—and the relevance of that is obvious.”

“Quite correct,” Judge Cable said. “Proceed.”

You dirty old man, Ben thought, even though he knew he shouldn’t. You’re enjoying this. You may pretend to be dismayed and above it all, but you’re really getting your rocks off with all this sin and sex stuff. You’re going to let it all in, prejudicial as it is, ’cause you enjoy listening to it.

“Were there any other indications that Ms. Dalcanton was suppressing a tendency toward violence?” LaBelle continued.

“Yes.” Again the good doctor glanced at her notes. “As I said, it was exemplified in her behavior. But it was also manifested in her words. Particularly in what she said during our therapy sessions.”

“I have to object again,” Christina said, her anger evident. “This is absolutely privileged. When my client went to this doctor, she presumed that what she said was confidential and would not be repeated—”

Judge Cable didn’t wait for LaBelle to respond. “I’ve already ruled, counsel.”

“But your honor, this goes to her most private—”

“I’ve already ruled, counsel,” the judge repeated, much louder than before. “If you interrupt again, I’ll hold you in contempt!”

Realizing it was useless, Christina sat down. “Did I push too far?” she whispered into Ben’s ear.

“There’s no such thing,” he replied.

“As I was saying,” Dr. Fulbright continued, “she was frequently preoccupied with violent fantasies.”

“Can you give us some examples?”

Dr. Fulbright paused, perhaps for the first time exhibiting some regret or concern for her former client. “She had a recurring fantasy in which she killed her parents, paying them back for the imagined cruelty they perpetrated on her during her childhood.”

Sitting next to Ben, Keri actually gasped.

Dr. Fulbright continued. “This was of course impossible, since her parents were already dead, but it didn’t stop her from fantasizing about it. She also, perhaps more pertinently, fantasized about killing her lover, Joe McNaughton.”

“Excuse me? Did you say Keri Dalcanton daydreamed about killing Joe McNaughton?”

“Yes.”

“Even before McNaughton’s wife broke up their relationship?”

“Well before. You have to understand that a sexual relationship in a personality as damaged as Keri Dalcanton’s is always complex. Her relationship with a much older, married man was a classic love-hate relationship. She slept with him, she felt dependent on him. But the feeling of dependence did not make her love him more. To the contrary, it made her, at some base level, hate and fear him.”

“That’s not true,” Keri said, so loudly everyone in the courtroom could hear. Her eyes were wide and teary. “It’s a lie! Make her stop lying!”

Judge Cable rapped his gavel. “Mr. Kincaid, you must control your client!”

Ben was so angry he could barely speak. I’ll control my client, he thought, when you control the courtroom and stop admitting this offensive testimony. “Ill do my best,” he managed.

Fulbright continued. “She feared Joe McNaughton would leave her, just as her parents had done, and she resented feeling dependent. Her violent instincts were never far beneath the surface. All she needed was a trigger.”

“And the trigger came when Joe McNaughton tried to break off the relationship.”

“That would be my evaluation of the situation, yes. She was confronted simultaneously with the loss of a man upon whom she had become dependent and a betrayal by the man she loved. Those barely suppressed violent urges rose to the surface and consumed her. Resulting in the tragedy at Bartlett Square.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” LaBelle said, “no more questions.”

Ben looked at Christina gravely. The weight on her shoulders now was enormous. The witness they had both thought would be minor had turned out to be more important than they could’ve dreamed. Before, perhaps the best thing the defense team had going for it was the fact that McNaughton’s murder was so horrendous that it was all but impossible to imagine that pretty little Keri Dalcanton could have done it. But Fulbright had turned all that around. Her testimony had succeeded in taking a near impossibility and making it psychologically plausible, if not probable—at least for the jurors, who did not know Keri as well as he did.

Christina leaned close and whispered. “Should I try to fight Fulbright on her own ground?”

Ben shook his head. “You heard the way this woman talks. All you’ll get is a lot of jargon and psychobabble. If you’re going to put a dent in her testimony—and you must—you’re going to have to carve out some ground of your own.”

“Got it.” She paused, then added, “Got any suggestions?”

Ben’s head moved slowly from side to side. “Haven’t a clue.”

“Is it traditional for psychiatrists to reveal their patients’ secrets in a public forum?” Christina asked when she reached the podium.

Fulbright’s lips pursed slightly. She was undoubtedly expecting this question, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant. “No.”

“When your patients come to you for help, don’t they expect you will keep what they tell you confidential?”

“No doubt. And I normally do keep patient secrets confidential.”

“But you made an exception for Keri Dalcanton.”

“I made an exception for murder!” Fulbright said forcefully. “Besides, the District Attorney’s office subpoenaed and collected my records, so my verbal testimony didn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know.”

“So that makes it all right?” Christina knew she’d never get a confession of wrongdoing out of this witness, but she did want to reemphasize for the jury what a traitor this doctor had been to her client. They might care. Maybe they’ve told their doctors a secret or two, also.

“Lives are in danger. That changes everything.”

“Joe McNaughton is already dead.”

“That’s right. And I want to make sure no one else joins him. I have a responsibility to society, as well as my clients.”

Ouch. One question too many. The nods from the jury box told Christina she had made a tactical error. She tried to recover. “Speaking of your responsibility to society, why didn’t you come forward with this information sooner?”

“I … don’t think I follow you.”

“You said you believed months ago that Keri had these violent tendencies, that they were barely suppressed, that she talked about killing her boyfriend. So why didn’t you warn him?”

Her words came slowly. “Well, there’s the confidentiality problem—”