“The suite at the DuPont Hotel at two hundred and sixty dollars per night, is that also one of the extras? All of your expenses for two months, in fact?”
Davic objected angrily. “Your Honor, this line of inquiry is trivial and irrelevant. People’s counsel knows the cost of services of expert witnesses has escalated in the last few years in just about direct proportion to the number of unmerited rape cases that have recently burdened our judiciary system, thanks in part to so much publicity from well-meaning women’s groups who—”
“Your Honor!” Brett stared at Davic. Someone in the rear of the crowded gallery began clapping. A stir of laughter, and Judge Flood sounded his gavel. “Now, Miss Brett, I think you have made your point in regard to the remuneration of the witness. Please move on.”
Brett inclined her head to the bench and turned back to the witness. “Dr. Clemens, you testified that the plaintiff, Shana Selby, was especially troubled by the death of her mother — damaged, you said — because the loss occurred just before the onset of Shana’s own sexual maturity. Are you saying that Shana was compelled to seek out a sexual experience — even if it meant being tortured and raped to get it — because her mother died?”
“I believe my testimony is quite clear and explicit on that point.”
“I disagree. I find your testimony both obscure and diffuse.”
“With all respect,” the doctor replied, “you may not have the qualifications in psychiatry or medicine to support your differing views.”
“Perhaps... Dr. Clemens, did Shana Selby tell you she wanted and needed intimate relationships after her mother’s death?”
“No... not explicitly—”
“Did she suggest that she was eager for such relationships no matter how violent or dangerous they might be?”
“Not in so many words—”
“Did Shana imply that she was compelled to find partners for violent and dangerous sexual activity?”
Dr. Clemens cleared his throat. “Not in such vivid terms.”
“Then would you please tell the court how you knew with such accuracy what this fourteen-year-old child was thinking and feeling? How, in short, you reached the conclusions you testified to?”
“My conclusions, please remember, embody a class of sexually pathological females, not necessarily one specific individual—”
“But you weren’t hired for seventy-five thousand dollars to examine a class of sexual psychopaths, were you? You were hired to examine one teenaged girl, Shana Selby, which you did, for the fee of three hundred dollars. Now I’d like to know, and I’m sure the jury wants to know, exactly what scholarly qualifications you employed to refine and localize your general observations so that they applied precisely and exactly to the plaintiff, Shana Selby. Just how did you go about that, Doctor?”
“I’m a psychiatrist. My adult life has been spent in the field. You have to understand that what isn’t said by a patient is frequently more revealing to the professional observer than those things that are said.”
“Are you telling us, Dr. Clemens, that your conclusions are based on what Shana Selby didn’t tell you?”
“The significance of inferential information is an accepted fact, and is widely used as an aid in many areas of psychiatric interpretation.”
“Then it’s true, isn’t it, that some of your conclusions are based on your own inferences — not on things that Shana Selby said to you?”
“Yes... that’s true—”
“You analyzed her silences. Is that it?”
“That is only partially it.”
“Did you also analyze Shana’s body language, Doctor? Her so-called victim-signals? Her clothing and shoes for evidence of potential collusion?”
Davic came around the table, glaring at Brett. “I object, Your Honor. This litany of questions is rhetorical and derisive. It is insulting.”
Judge Flood rapped his gavel. “Mr. Davic, there’s some validity to your objection, but I have allowed Dr. Clemens a deliberate leeway in his testimony. This is a consideration a court does well to extend to expert witnesses. We shouldn’t inhibit scholars with procedure. The doctor has, as an expert witness, made certain charges by inference against the plaintiff s emotional balance. In fairness, I will allow Miss Brett to protect the People’s interest with a correspondingly extensive and flexible inquiry.” He tapped his gavel a second time. “The People will proceed.”
After collecting her thoughts, Brett said, “Dr. Clemens, I’d like you to explain what you meant when you stated that damaged females often sublimated their sexual drives into safe areas. And then tell us how you concluded Shana had retreated into such an unrealistic sanctuary?”
“Yes, of course. The girl admitted as much to me.” The doctor’s small smile invited the jurors to share his self-assurance. “She told me she had a collection of pictures in her bedroom, virile young men, athletes, in fact, who were — it so happened — fit objects for safe fantasies because all the young heroes enshrined on her wall” — the doctor’s smile was now rueful — “all of those powerful young men were dead. Israeli athletes murdered at the Olympic Games in Germany some ten years ago.”
“You found this suspicious?”
“That’s a pejorative word. I would prefer revealing. It follows that a dead person is a safe object of idealized love — harmless and nonthreatening.”
“Did Shana tell you how old she was when she cut out those pictures?”
“She was four or five, as I understand. But the significant fact is that she has kept them all these years, don’t you see?”
“No, I don’t, Doctor. Shana’s mother was not deceased then, and Shana was not sexually mature — which are the conditions you told us typified damaged females seeking release from their guilty sexual drives by exposing themselves to sadists and rapists. How could your explanation hold water for a child of four or five?”
Dr. Clemens cleared his throat again. “You are simplifying my conclusions.”
“I’m glad to be of help, Doctor.”
“I object, Your Honor, to the sarcasm.”
“Sustained.”
“Doctor, why do you consider it significant that Shana kept the picture of those Israeli athletes all these years?”
“To me, it reveals her need for relationships that are unobtainable and therefore safe and reassuring. Those dead athletes are real to her in one very important sense. They cannot hurt her, they cannot disappoint her, they can never be the living agents to satisfy her rebellious though unconscious sexual needs—”
“Excuse me, Your Honor.” Brett returned to her People’s table and poured herself a glass of water. Her hand trembled slightly as she drank it. When she put the glass down she squeezed Shana’s arm. In a low and conversational tone, she murmured, “Shana, wipe your eyes. Don’t let them make you cry. They’re abominable, disgusting...”
“Miss Brett,” Flood said, “if you wish a conference with your client I will recess for that purpose.”
“Thank you for your consideration, Judge Flood, but I would like to complete my cross of the doctor.” Squeezing Shana’s arm a second time, Brett straightened and walked back to the witness stand.
“Dr. Clemens, you have given us a comprehensive and perhaps necessarily subjective profile of the plaintiff.” Her expression was composed, but as she paced in front of the witness, there was an edge of hostility in the precision of Brett’s movements. “I sense an absence or omission in your testimony, Doctor.” Her words were as measured as the sound of her footsteps. “In all this speculation about the victim, in this pawing over and prying into her innermost private and sensitive feelings, there has not been one word about the person who committed the crimes against her. A young girl has been tortured and raped. Tell us, Doctor, what class of perverted male indulges and delights in such atrocities? What pictures would you find on his wall? What parental influences drive him to these violent, sadistic assaults on young—?”