Tell Me Your Dreams

"So what you’re saying is that under hypnosis the psychiatrist himself can alter the condition of the patient so that the patient believes something that is not true?"

"That has happened, yes."

"Thank you. Doctor." He looked at David. "Your witness."

David said, "Thank you." He rose and walked over to the witness box. David said disarmingly, "Your credentials are very impressive. You’re not only a psychiatrist, but you teach at a university."

"Yes."

"How long have you been teaching. Doctor?"

"More than fifteen years."

"That’s wonderful. How do you divide your time? By that I mean, do you spend half of your time teaching and the other half working as a doctor?"

"Now, I teach full-time."

"Oh? How long has it been since you actually practiced medicine?"

"About eight years. But I keep up on all the current medical literature."

"I have to tell you, I find that admirable. So you read up on everything. That’s how you’re so familiar with iatrogenicity?"

"Yes."

"And in the past, a lot of patients came to you claiming they had MPD?"

"Well, no…"

"Not a lot? In the years you were practicing as a doctor, would you say you had a dozen cases who claimed they had MPD?"

"No."

"Six?" Dr. Raleigh shook his head. "Four?" There was no answer.

"Doctor, have you ever had a patient who came to you with MPD?"

"Well, it’s hard to – "

"Yes or no. Doctor?"

"No."

"So all you really know about MPD is what you’ve read? No further questions."

The prosecution called six more witnesses, and the pattern was the same with each. Mickey Brennan had assembled nine top psychiatrists from around the country, all united in their belief that MPD did not exist.

The prosecution’s case was winding to a close.

When the last witness on the prosecution’s list had been excused. Judge Williams turned to Brennan. "Do you have any more witnesses to call, Mr. Brennan?"

"No, Your Honor. But I would like to show the jury police photographs of the death scenes from the murders F – "

David said furiously, "Absolutely not".

Judge Williams turned to David. "What did you say, Mr. Singer?"

"I said" – David caught himself – "objection. The prosecution is trying to inflame the jury by – "

"Objection overruled. The foundation was laid in a pretrial motion." Judge Williams turned to Brennan.

"You may show the photographs."

David took his seat, furious.

Brennan walked back to his desk and picked up a stack of photographs and handed them out to the jurors. "These are not pleasant to look at, ladies and gentlemen, but this is what the trial is about. It’s not about words or theories or excuses. It’s not about mysterious alter egos killing people. It’s about three real people who were savagely and brutally murdered. The law says that someone has to pay for those murders. It’s up to each one of you to see that justice is done."

Brennan could see the horror on the faces of the jurors as they looked at the photographs. He turned to Judge Williams. "The State rests." Judge Williams looked at her watch. "It’s four o’clock. The court will recess for the day and begin again at ten o’clock Monday morning. Court adjourned."

Chapter Nineteen

ASHLY Patterson was on the gallows being hanged, when a policeman ran up and said, "Wait a minute. She’s supposed to be electrocuted."

The scene changed, and she was in the electric chair. A guard reached up to pull the switch, and Judge Williams came running in screaming, "No. We’re going to kill her with a lethal injection."

David woke up and sat upright in bed, his heart pounding. His pajamas were wet with perspiration. He started to get up and was suddenly dizzy. He had a pounding headache, and he felt feverish. He touched his forehead. It was hot.

As David started to get out of bed, he was overcome by a wave of dizziness. "Oh, no," he groaned. "Not today. Not now." This was the day he had been waiting for, the day the defense would begin to present its case. David stumbled into the bathroom and bathed his face in cold water. He looked in the mirror. "You look like hell."

When David arrived in court, Judge Williams was already on the bench. They were all waiting for him.

"I apologize for being late," David said. His voice was a croak. "May I approach the bench?"

"Yes."

David walked up to the bench, with Mickey Brennan close behind him. "Your Honor," David said, "I’d like to ask for a one-day stay."

"On what grounds?"

"I – I’m not feeling very well, Your Honor. I’m sure a doctor can give me something and tomorrow I’ll be fine."

Judge Williams said, "Why don’t you have your associate take over for you?"

David looked at her in surprise. "I don’t have an associate."

"Why don’t you, Mr. Singer?"

"Because…"

Judge Williams leaned forward. "I’ve never seen a murder trial conducted like this. You’re a one-man show looking for glory, aren’t you? Well, you won’t find it in this court. I’ll tell you something else. You probably think I should refuse myself because I don’t believe in your devil-made-me-do-it defense, but I’m not refusing myself. We’re going to let the jury decide whether they think your client is innocent or guilty. Is there anything else, Mr. Singer?" David stood there looking at her, and the room was swimming. He wanted to tell her to go fuck herself. He wanted to get on his knees and beg her to be fair. He wanted to go home to bed. He said in a hoarse voice, "No. Thank you. Your Honor."