Beneath the Mask of Sanity Page 25
“I would say that quite a few people do.”
“Haven’t you ever?” Bentley stared at Abrams with earnest eyes.
“Perhaps, but we’re not here to talk about me.”
“Okay.”
“You do realize that you killed four people in California, don’t you?”
“I told you I didn’t do that.”
“The police have evidence that you did. Detective Miles has indentified you as the person that tried to kill him, and they caught you with a knife in your hand about to kill the Detective and the girl.”
“I told the other guy, the last thing I remember is being on the road, when I woke up I’m being pinned down on the ground and handcuffed.”
“You have no memories of the events that occurred between those two points in time?”
“Nope.”
They talked for a little while longer. Dr. Abrams circling around the criminal events at the heart of the trial and Charles deflecting all the questions with his persistant denials.
After the police came to take Charles back to his cell, Abrams was surprised by a knock on his door.
His next appointment was not scheduled for another hour. Abrams rose, but before he had time to reach the door the knock sounded again. It was a long stacco rap, the actions of someone in a hurry.
Abrams opened the door and saw a tall man with a shock of black hair and a flat, wide nose. The man didn’t wait for Abrams to speak; he simply pushed his way in and closed the door behind him.
“You know who I am,” the man said.
“I recognize you,” Abrams said. “You’re Charles’s lawyer.”
“Mike Jeffs,” he said and held out his hand.
Abrams didn’t shake it. “What are you doing here?”
Jeffs smiled and returned his hand to his side. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Fine,” Abrams said. Jeffs sat on the couch and Abrams took his spot on the leather chair.
Jeffs sat forward on the couch, his elbows rested on his knees and his hands were clasped in front of him.
“You talked to Charles?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think?”
Abrams shifted in his chair. “I don’t think that we should be talking about this right now, do you?”
“If you’re going to be a witness I have the right to interview you before trial.”
“As I understand it, I need to file my report with the courts before we talk. Isn’t that correct?”
Jeffs laughed. “Well, if we’re going to be technical, yes.”
“So perhaps you should leave.”
“I just want to know one thing doctor, then I’ll leave.”
Abrams glanced at his watch. “What is your question?”
”Do you think that Charles is legally insane?”
“Wouldn’t be illegal if I told you that information before I filed my report?”
“Not if we don’t tell anyone.”
Abrams opened his mouth to respond, but Jeffs went on before he had a chance to speak.
“Listen, you plan on filing your report later today, right?”
“Yes.”
“So what’s a couple of hours going to do me? It’s not like I’m going to gain a substantial advantage. The prosecution is going to find out what you think later today anyway.”
Abrams sat and regarded the man. Neither of them spoke for a moment and the silence filled the room.
“I’m a naturally impatient person,” Jeffs said. “I just want to know. It won’t do any harm.”
“Fine,” Abrams said. “I find your client’s story very interesting and I do believe he is mentally unbalanced, but I do not believe that he is psychotic.”
“So you’ll be testifying for the prosecution?”
“I’ll testify for whichever side wants me to, and my testimony will be what you just heard. In light of your position, I’m assuming that you will not want me to testify.”
“Well, I am trying to show that Charles is legally insane.”
Jeffs sat back and let his arms drop to his side. “Let me ask you this, if Charles passed a lie-detector test, what would you think then?”
“That would not change my opinion. Polygraphs are not very accurate in my estimation.”
The smile fell off Jeffs’ face. “Okay doctor, listen. Charles is going to be found not-guilty by reason of insanity. It’s going to happen, make no mistake of that. I will find a psychologist that will testify that he’s nuts. Now what will happen when he’s found not guilty?”
“If, he’s found not guilty then he’ll be admitted to a mental institution.”
“Like this one?”
“Perhaps,” Abrams said. “The judge will send him to the
place where he thinks he’ll get the best treatment.”
“The judge will base his decision largely on my suggestion.”
“Is that so?”
“It is, and I can send him here.” Jeffs sat forward again. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
“Charles is certainly an interesting case.”
“Doctor, you’ve read the papers. This is the most high-profile serial killer case since Dalhmer. The media coverage of him is going to saturate the brains of every person in this country.”
“What’s your point?”
“Whichever doctor treats Charles is going to be sitting on a pot of gold. Think about it doctor, there’s going to be made for TV movies, books, studies, interviews. A book about Charles would do a lot for your career, wouldn’t it?”
“If you’re asking me to violate my professional oath to make some money, then I think I’d better ask you to leave.”
Abrams eyes spoke a different message though, convince me they said.
Jeffs stood up. “We’re going to win this case. We can do it with or without you. If you won’t testify for us, someone will and whomever that is will get Charles. So the only choice you have here is whether or not you want Charles under your care.”
Jeffs opened the door but paused. “Think about it, you wouldn’t be putting Charles on the street, you’d be consigning him to life in your care. You’d be saving a sick kid from the gas chamber. Ask for the polygraph, he’ll pass.”
Jeffs walked out.
139.
Frank and Dunham were waiting in the lobby of Parkview Hospital when Dr. Abrams walked in.
“Hello officers, may I help you?”
“You can try,” Dunham said. “We want to know what that report was about.”
“It’s my professional opinion,” Abrams said. He began to walk towards his office and the two cops followed him.
“What do you think, doctor?” Frank asked. His voice was cold and monotone, courtesy of the electronic device that he held to his throat.
“In my opinion, Charles Hester is clinically psychotic.”
“What does that mean?” Dunham asked.
“It means that he thinks his name is Bentley Grimes, he believes that he grew up in an orphanage and ran away. He has no memory of his family or his crimes.”
“He’s lying,” Frank said. “He’s lying so this asinine insanity plea will work.”
“I don’t think so,” Dr. Abrams said. “I think what his father did to his family really affected him. He might have gotten out alive, but his mind did not remain intact.”
“Is there anything that would change your mind about that?” Frank asked.
Abrams stopped walking. He turned and regarded the two men. “Perhaps you should have him take a polygraph test.”
“What good would that do?” Dunham asked.
“If he fails, then I’d say you’re right. He is lying, but I’ve seen liars before detectives
and I don’t think we’re dealing with one here. If you ask me, this boy is confused and frightened. I would say that the other boy, the one you killed, set up these killings and Charles went along.”
“That little bastard is a killer, pure and simply. He may have fooled you, bu
t I saw him when he wasn’t acting.”
“Let’s just set up the polygraph,” Dunham said. “It may not be admissible in court, but if it convinces Dr. Abrams that’s all that matters to me.”
140.
Bentley sat in the chair. The officers stood behind him, he couldn’t see them. His right hand lay on the table. There were three black bands around his fingers.
He shifted a little in his seat, wanting to reach up and pull the blood pressure cuff of his arm. A band stretched across his chest and around his back, he felt like he was strapped in to some kind of roller coaster.
Officer Klint said behind the desk. A small laptop computer was opened in front of him.
“Okay, Charles.”
“My name’s Bentley.”
“Sorry. Okay, Bentley what’s going to happen here, is I’m going to ask you a series of yes or no questions. My machine is going to measure your blood pressure, respiration and your galvanic skin response. Do you know what that is?”
“No.”
“It’s a measurement of how much you sweat. Now, this machine is going to be able to tell if you are lying or not, so I need you to be completely truthful.”
“I will,” Bentley said.
Dunham and Frank stood, watching the tiny black screen. Lines moved in a wavy rhythm across it. Dunham tapped Klint on the shoulder. “Before you start can I talk to you outside?”
“Sure.” He glanced at his machine.
“Frank will stay in here and watch him.”
When they were outside of the examination room, Dunham closed the door. “Can this guy beat this thing?”
“In my opinion polygraphs are about ninety-five percent reliable. Some people disagree but I find…”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“The only way I know to beat it is to employee something we call countermeasures.”
“What’s that?”
“The subject tenses his muscles and increases his breathing on purpose during control questions. Those are questions that we expect him to answer honestly.”
“So he can beat it?”
“It’s pretty easy to spot countermeasures. The breathing is abnormally quick at odd times, the subjects actions are unnatural.”
“So what if he does that?”
“Then we discontinue the test.”
“Okay. Then let’s do it.”
Dunham opened the door.
“Are you ready to start?” Klint said after he had sat down again.
“Sure.”
“Is your name Charles Hester?”
“No.”
“Is your name Bentley Grimes?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know George Braddock?”
“No.”
“Have you ever masturbated?”
Bentley paused. “No.”
“Did you kill Karen Braddock?”
“No.”
“Are you in California right now?”
“Yes.”
“Did you eat today?”
“Yes.”
“Did you sleep well last night?”
“No.”
“Did you attempt to kill Katie Braddock?”
“No.”
“Is your name Bentley Grimes?”
“Yes.”
“Have you killed seven people?”
“No.”
“Are you taking a polygraph test right now?”
“Yes.”
Klint stopped his typing. “Okay Bentley you can go now.”
Dunham took his arm. “I’ll take him back to his cell. You stay here, I’ll be back.”
They walked out the door. Frank looked at Officer Klint. He pressed the device against this throat.
“Well?”
Klint had resumed typing again. The lines spilled out on the screen. “You’re not gonna like it,” he said.
“Just tell me.” It was impossible to make his voice sound urgent and that made Frank even angrier.
“He passed.” Klint pointed at the screen. “Look here and here. This is where I asked him if he’d ever masturbated.”
“So?”
“So that’s the only question that he lied about. He wasn’t even lying when he said his name wasn’t Charles Hester and we know that’s a lie.”
“Then this machine is a piece of shit.”
141.
Bentley sat in the courtroom. Dr. Abrams was on the stand.
Jeffs approached the witness stand. He face was stern, but Abrams could see the glee in his eyes.
“Dr. Abrams. What are your professional qualifications?”
“I’m a board certified clinical psychologist. I’ve been employeed by Parkview Hospital for the past eight years.”
“In that time have you had the opportunity to speak with patients suffering from psychosis?”
“I have.”
“Have you also had the opportunity to speak with patients suffering from anti-social personality disorder?”
“Yes.”
“Does Charles Hester suffer from anti-social personality disorder?”
“In my opinion, he does not.”
“What about psychosis?”
“Yes, I believe that Charles is psychotic. He suffers from delusions, self-induced memory loss and in my opinion has a tenebrous grip on reality at best.”
“In that case, do you feel that Charles is fit to stand trial for the crimes that he’s accused of?”
“No. Charles does not have the mental capacity to understand what he did.”
“Thank you doctor.”
Jeffs sat down. The prosecutor, some young guy with quaffed brown hair and a grey suit, approached the stand.
“Is it possible that Mr. Hester is simply lying?”
“That’s not what I believe.”
“But that’s not my question.”
“It’s possible, but as he passed the lie detector test…”
The prosecutor balked and hesitated for a second. That was all it took.
“Objection your honor.”
The judge looked down on Dr. Abrams. “The witness is reminded that evidence of that nature is not admissible to this court.”
“I’m sorry your honor, I didn’t know.”
“The jury will disregard the doctor’s last statement and the court reporter will strike it from the record.”
The jury nodded. Bentley looked over at them. It was on their faces. That was something that a judge could order stricken from the record, but it couldn’t be erased from their minds.
“I repeat,” the prosecutor said. “Could Mr. Hester be lying?”
“It’s possible,” Dr. Abrams said.
“Thank you doctor I have no further questions.”
Bentley’s lawyer stood up. “No more questions your honor.”
Frank sat near the back of the room, Dunham sat to his left. He tapped Dunham on the shoulder. He hated using the pad, but his voice had no volume control anymore.
Why did he say that?
Dunham leaned over and whispered. “It’s our fault. We should have never let him take that test.”
The two of them watched as Abrams sat back down, in the front row behind the defense. Bentley’s lawyer leaned back and whispered something to him. He whispered something back and then they returned to a normal sitting position.
“That fuck wants Bentley,” Dunham whispered. “A real life serial killer to study, that’s like a dream for him. I’ll bet they coached him good.”
Frank stood up and walked out of the courtroom. Katie sat outside on a bench. Frank walked over to her.
“How’s it going?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Your Mom didn’t want to come down?”
“No. She did her part.”
“So did you, your testimony was over days ago.”
“I know, but I wanted to be here when they made their decision. What do you think?”
Frank sat down next to the girl. He lif
ted his device to his throat and then lowered it again.
“That good huh?”
“Even if this works, he’ll spend the rest of his life in a mental hospital.”
Katie turned to look at him. “You think so? I’m not so sure.” She stood up and looked at Frank; there were tears in her eyes. “I guess I got the only answer that I needed.”
Frank watched her walk out the door and down to her new car. He thought about what she said. He wanted to be right, but he was afraid that maybe she knew better than him.
142.
Bentley had been inside for two months. He sat on his bed and looked down at the floor. He had no roommate, they didn’t trust him that far yet. There was a small paper swan in his hands.
The door opened. Bentley looked up. Billy, the big guy, walked through the door, behind him was a man that Bentley knew, though he wouldn’t admit it.
“You got company, Hester.” Billy said. The front of his white uniform was soiled a dark brown.
“They got you cleaning the toilets again, Billy?”
Billy stared at the kid but said nothing.
“I told you my name is Bentley.”
“Be whoever the fuck you wanna be.”
Frank turned to the big man. “You can wait outside.”
“You know who this guy is?”
Frank’s eyes bore into Billy’s. He raised his hands. “Okay, okay, fine, I’ll wait outside.”
Billy closed the door after him. Frank smiled and walked closer.
“Hello detective,” Bentley said. “I thought you might come.”
“You think you’ve won don’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well you’re here and not San Quentin where they can ass rape you all day.”
Bentley smiled. “I like the food here, I have to admit. And I’m getting better at arts and crafts. Look.” He held up his swan. “Today was origami.”
Frank swatted the swan out of Bentley’s hand. It fluttered a few feet and then drifted to the ground.
“Now that wasn’t very nice.”
“Maybe you convinced Dr. Abrams, and the jury, but you don’t convince me. There’s only one thing I want to know.”