A Time to Kill

Jake wanted no part of the damned boots. But the jury could relate to them, Lucien had argued. Not expensive ostrich skin, Jake countered. They’re too dumb to know the difference, replied Lucien. Jake could not be swayed. The rednecks will trust someone with boots, Lucien had explained. Fine, said Jake, let him wear a pair of those camouflage squirrel-hunting boots with a little mud on the heels and soles, some boots they could really identify with. Those wouldn’t complement his suit, Bass had inserted.

He crossed his legs, laying the right boot on his left knee, flaunting it. He grinned at it, then grinned at the jury. The ostrich would have been proud.

Jake looked from his notes on the podium and saw the boot, which was plainly visible above the rail of the witness stand. Bass was admiring it, the jurors pondering it. He choked and returned to his notes.

"State your name, please."

"Dr. W.T. Bass," he replied, his attention suddenly diverted from the boot. He looked grimly, importantly at Jake.

"What is your address?"

"Nine-oh-eight West Canterbury, Jackson, Mississippi."

"What is your profession?"

"I am a physician."

"Are you licensed to practice in Mississippi?"

"Yes."

"When were you licensed?"

"February 8, 1963."

"Are you licensed to practice medicine in any other state?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Texas."

"When did you obtain that license?"

"November 3, 1962."

"Where did you go to college?"

"I received my bachelor’s degree from Millsaps College in 1956, and received my M.D., or Doctor of Medicine, from the University of Texas Health Science Center in Dallas, Texas, in 1960."

"Is that an accredited medical school?"

"Yes."

"By whom?"

"By the Council of Medical Education and Hospitals of the American Medical Association, the recognized accrediting agency of our profession, and by the educational authority of the State of Texas."

Bass relaxed a bit, uncrossed and recrossed his legs, and displayed his left boot. He rocked gently and turned the comfortable swivel chair partially toward the jury.

"Where did you intern and for how long?"

"After graduation from medical school, I spent twelve months as an intern at the Rocky Mountain Medical Center in Denver."

"What is your medical specialty?"

"Psychiatry."

"Explain to us what that means."

"Psychiatry is that branch of medicine concerned with the treatment of disorders of the mind. It usually, but not always, deals with mental malfunction, the organic basis of which is unknown."

Jake breathed for the first time since Bass took the stand. His man was sounding good.

"Now, Doctor," he said as he casually walked to within

a foot of the jury box, "describe to the jury the specialized training you received in the field of psychiatry."

"My specialized training in psychiatry consisted of two years as a resident in psychiatry at the Texas State Mental Hospital, an approved training center. I engaged in clinical work with psychoneurotic and psychotic patients. I studied psychology, psychopathology, psychotherapy, and the physiological therapies. This training, supervised by competent psychiatric teachers, included instruction in the psychiatric aspects of general medicine, the behavior aspects of children, adolescents, and adults."

It was doubtful if a single person in the courtroom comprehended any of what Bass had just said, but it came from the mouth of a man who suddenly appeared to be a genius, an expert, for he had to be a man of great wisdom and intelligence to pronounce those words. With the bow tie and vocabulary, and in spite of the boots, Bass was gaining credibility with each answer.

"Are you a diplomate of the American Board of Psychiatry?"

"Of course," he answered confidently.

"In which branch are you certified?"

"I am certified in psychiatry."

"And when were you certified?"

"April of 1967."

"What does it take to become certified by the American Board of Psychiatry?"

"A candidate must pass oral and practical exams, as well as a written test at the direction of the Board."

Jake glanced at his notes and noticed Musgrove winking at Buckley.

"Doctor, do you belong to any professional groups?"

"Yes."

"Name them please."

"I am a member of the American Medical Association, American Psychiatric Association, and the Mississippi Medical Association."

"How long have you been engaged in the practice of psychiatry?"

"Twenty-two years."

Jake walked three steps in the direction ot me oencn and eyed Noose, who was watching intently.

"Your Honor, the defense offers Dr. Bass as an expert in the field of psychiatry."

"Very well," replied Noose. "Do you wish to examine this witness, Mr. Buckley?"

The D.A. stood with his legal pad. "Yes, Your Honor, just a few questions."

Surprised but not worried, Jake took his seat next to Carl Lee. Ellen was still not in the courtroom.

"Dr. Bass, in your opinion, are you an expert in the field of psychiatry?" asked Buckley.

"Yes."

"Have you ever taught psychiatry?"

"No."

"Have you ever published any articles on psychiatry?"

"No."

"Have you ever published any books on psychiatry?"

"No."

"Now, I believe you testified that you are a member of the A.M.A., M.M.A., and the American Psychiatric Association?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever served as an officer in any of these organizations?"

"No."

"What hospital positions do you currently hold, as of today?"

"None."

"Has your experience in psychiatry included any work under the auspices of the federal government or any state government?"

"No."

The arrogance was beginning to fade from his face, and the confidence from his voice. He shot a glance at Jake, who was digging through a file.

"Dr. Bass, are you now engaged in the practice of psychiatry full-time?"

The expert hesitated, and looked briefly at Lucien on the second row. "I see patients on a regular basis."

"How many patients and how regular?" Buckley retorted with an enormous air of confidence.

"I see from five to ten patients per week."

"One or two a day?"

"Something like that."

"And you consider that a full-time practice?"

"I’m as busy as I want to be."

Buckley threw his legal pad on the table and looked at Noose. "Your Honor, the State objects to this man testifying as an expert in the field of psychiatry. It’s obvious he’s not qualified."

Jake was on his feet with his mouth open.

"Overruled, Mr. Buckley. You may proceed, Mr. Bri-gance."

Jake gathered his legal pads and returned to the podium, well aware of the suspicion the D.A. had just artfully thrown over his star witness. Bass shifted boots.

"Now, Dr. Bass, have you examined the defendant, Carl Lee-Hailey?"

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Three."

"When was your first examination?"

"June 10."

"What was the purpose of this examination?"