Chapter 2

I had defended psychiatric cases before. I remember one woman who was charged with assault after punching people at a local shopping mall; she wandered about with plastic bags on her hands and feet to avoid germs, and would attack anyone who coughed or sneezed near her — according to her, because she had discovered some damaging information about Engelbert Humperdink, the singer, and in retaliation he was sending people to infect her. That was a somewhat complicated delusion, but this... this had Crazy Humperdink Lady beat by a mile or so.

I'm sure she read the look on my face because she slumped and sighed. The anger that had animated her a moment before seemed to drain away, and she suddenly looked tired and defeated. "You see?" she said listlessly. "It doesn't matter. Of course you don't believe me. You don't have any memory of me. For you, I never existed."

"I believe," I said cautiously, "that you believe what you're saying." I paused. "But you're right: I don't believe you. I believe you are suffering from a delusion, a psychosis, which can make what you're feeling and thinking seem very very real to you. I can help get you some... well, some help, to deal with managing what you're feeling. But first we have to deal with the criminal charges you're facing, Lauren."

She sighed. "Whatever."

"So — friends, family, anybody local?"

"No," she said. "No one at all. Not anywhere."

"Right," I said briskly. "That simply means that if we reach the question of bail today, it may be a bit more difficult to secure a release." I paused, another thought occurring to me. "You don't have any access to a bank account, credit cards, anything like that?"

She simply shook her head.

"Well, let's not focus on that now. In a moment we're going to get called up in front of the judge, and he's going to read a charge and ask you for a plea. I will tell him that I'm representing you and that you are going to plead 'not guilty'. We will hear from a witness, probably the deputy that arrested you, just enough testimony to establish their case." I paused a moment, thinking. "Now, they may have made a slight legal mistake in they way they charged you, and if they did, and if the judge feels lenient, maybe we can walk you out of here today. More likely, we'll have to work on the bail another day because he will bind you over to the grand jury."

She waved her hand at me, a listless gesture that seemed to mean something in between "go away" and "I don't care." I barely noticed, because my mind was turning over a growing idea. Could they really have stumbled on something so basic? My luck might not be so bad after all. Maybe I could get this thing kicked right here at the preliminary trial stage, and Miss Faux Idol could go back to hobnobbing with her imaginary friends in no time.

"Lauren," I asked, "did you tell the deputies anything, anything at all, other than your name?"

She shook her head again. I guess we were back to non-verbal communication. But that jibed with what Ken told me, and it made me think that there was something missing that might be exploited here. Usually, preliminary hearings are a slam-dunk for the prosecution; they are cynically called the "If they wantcha, they gotcha," stage of criminal prosecution. But they are not completely meaningless, as I was hopefully about to demonstrate.

"Lauren." She turned to face me. "When they call your name, come and stand beside me. Let me talk. Don't say anything unless I tell you to. OK?"

She nodded.

I pointed her back towards the group of inmates, and she shuffled back, her leg chains giving her short, jingly steps.

Waiting for her case to be called, I could not help but think about her particular delusion. What struck me as odd was — well, the entire delusion struck me as odd, of course, but — what was especially odd was her reaction. I'm no expert on psychosis, but I thought that usually, the people with the psychotic delusions don't understand that they are delusions. The guy who thinks he's Napoleon is firm in his belief, and he doesn't usually acknowledge that other people don't get it. He doesn't say, "I'm actually Napoleon, but I understand that you all don't see it; it's perfectly reasonable for you to think I'm not Napoleon."

Curious.

But nothing to worry about for now. If at some point her legal state of mind became relevant, we could certainly explore the issue then.

My reverie was interrupted by the clerk's "Lauren Tremont!" and I hopped up to stand at the defense side of the podium. I announced my appearance as Ms. Tremont's counsel as Lauren came up to stand just where I had told her. Judge Hollings recited the charge against her, and I replied that she was pleading not guilty.

Hollings looked over at the other side of the podium. "Is the Commonwealth ready to proceed on the preliminary hearing?"

Castle replied, "Yes, Judge." And we were off. I motioned to Lauren that it was okay to sit down and sat myself as well as Castle called Deputy Abe Sparks to the stand. In a series of simple questions, Castle elicited testimony that Sparks had responded to the scene after police received several calls about a woman in the parking lot covered in blood. Deputy Sparks testified that he ad approached the woman, who appeared confused and disoriented, and handcuffed her "for his own, and her, safety." He ultimately transported her to the ADC and submitted her clothes for testing. I offered no objection as Deputy Sparks related the results of their lab's preliminary testing. Technically, this was hearsay and violated what's called the "Best Evidence" rule, but since hearsay is admissible in preliminary hearings and the Commonwealth could, if pressed, round up the lab tech that did the work, there was no reason to be obstructionist about it.

Sparks repeated what he was told by the lab — that the large quantity of blood on Lauren's clothes was human and appeared to be all of the same blood type. Sophisticated tests like DNA would undoubtedly come along down the road. Deputy Sparks closed by saying he asked the magistrate on duty what to charge her with, and subsequent to that conversation she was charged with aggravated malicious wounding.

As soon as Castle finished his questions, I arose, which put a frown on his face. It's unusual for the defense to cross-examine a witness during a preliminary hearing; the prosecution only has to prove probable cause and the better tactic for the defense is to save their ammunition for trial.

But there was a hole here, and I thought I could exploit it.

"Deputy Sparks," I asked, "did you find the person or person that lost this blood?"

"No, we did not" he replied.

"Did my client tell you whose blood it was?"

"No, she didn't say anything, except she gave her name to the booking officer."

"So she did not tell you how all this blood got on her?"

"No, sir."

"Thank you, Deputy. Nothing further."

Castle then rested the Commonwealth's case. I had no witnesses, of course, and rested on my side. Castle then rose and said, "We'd ask that this be bound over to the grand jury."

I arose in turn and addressed Judge Hollings. "Your Honor, the purpose of the preliminary hearing is to prove probable cause. The Commonwealth has certainly proven that a crime of some kind probably took place here. But what they have not done is shown that my client is probably guilty of it. Nothing in the evidence you just heard gives rise to any reasonable inference that my client committed a crime. She may well have been present at one, but that is insufficient to establish probable cause that she committed the crime."

Hollings was suppressing a grin. "Rebuttal, Mr. Castle?"

Ken had the deer-in-the-headlights look I remembered from watching his previous encounters with the unexpected.

"Mr. Castle?"

"Uh... that is, Your Honor, we feel that there is sufficiently serious evidence of a crime here that... Well, that is, the defendant was... uh... in order to fully investigate the..."

"Mr. Castle. The defense has pointed out that amidst all the serious crime evidence, there is no actual evidence that the accused has actually done anything. Does the Commonwealth have a rebuttal to this argument?"

"Your Honor, we can't even verify her name. How can we..."

I nudged the process just a bit with, "Your Honor, the Commonwealth's inability to verify my client's name is not probative of any..."

Judge Hollings held up his hand. "I get it, Mr. Mason. Please. Your opponent is down; there's no need to continue kicking." He turned to face Castle. "I find insufficient evidence to bind the defendant over to the grand jury. The charge is dismissed."

"But Judge... !"

"Mr. Castle, the Commonwealth is free to present its case to the grand jury anyway. If they indict her, you may re-arrest her at that time. Ms. Tremont, you are free to go. Mr. Mason, thank you for stepping in. Ms. Altis, please call the next case."

I stepped back and gestured to Lauren, who seemed to be a bit confused at this latest turn of events. "Well," I said quietly, "that was a bit easier than I thought."

"What do I do now?" she asked.

"The jail will need to out-process you. You have to return that stylish-yet-affordable orange jumpsuit and they'll give you back your personal possessions. Then you're free to go."

I was about to turn around and head out the door, pleased with myself for disposing of this mess in such a short time. It was the look in her eyes that stopped me, even before her words.

"Go where?"

I paused. "I can give you some contact information for social services. I'm sure they have... shelters, a place to stay..." Her eyes were welling up with tears. I continued, "There are some excellent resources in... in..."

I paused again. "Ms. Tremont. Lauren. The thing is, I can't really help you any more. I am a lawyer. I'm not even a lawyer for this kind of thing any more; the judge just strong-armed me into helping. I can't do anything more for you."

She nodded once, and then seemed to square her shoulders. "You're right. Why should you do anything more than you've done. You don't even know me."

"It's not that, Lauren, it's just that my role here is a professional one, and I..."

"No, no," she interrupted. "You're perfectly right."

She turned to face the deputy and then turned back to me. "Thank you, Mr. Mason, for all you've..."

"Rick," I interrupted her. "Rick Mason. Call me Rick."

She nodded again. "Thank you, Rick."

And off she went, with the deputy removing her leg restraints so she didn't have to jingle jangle with the hoi polli still in custody.

So was it wrong of me to be waiting outside the Adult Detention center 90 minutes later?

I had stopped by the OPD offices and picked up some clothes in what I hoped was her size — just jeans and a T-shirt, really, donated things that they keep on hand for clients that come in with torn or bloody clothing. She wasn't technically a PD client, but then I wasn't technically a PD, so I figured it all evened out. And I have to admit I was still curious about what was going on with her. I figured I could help steer her towards some sort of mental health assistance, a voluntary committal of some kind. The mere fact that she was an attractive woman had nothing to do with my decision. She was too young for me, and the canons of ethics frown upon dating your clients. So it was purely professional interest that had me parked at the curb.