“When you’re defending somebody, though, it’s just the opposite. If it’s obvious your client did what they’re accused of, the fallback position is to come up with plausible reasons for what they did. Like, ‘My client had a rotten childhood.’ Or, better yet, accusing the victim of the crime, or ‘society’ of being responsible instead. With some of my clients, I’ve had to come up with really creative excuses. Funny thing is, the more outrageous they are, the more juries are inclined to swallow them. The old ‘big lie’ theory, I guess.”
Krueger frowned. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not all b.s. If you or I had been abused or neglected when we were kids, or grew up in a neighborhood where the most lucrative career choices were pusher or hooker, maybe we wouldn’t have grown up to be the fine, upstanding citizens we are either. ‘There but for the grace of God go I.’ ”
He slid his feet off the desk. “And whether you think it’s fair or not, I and every other defense lawyer will have to exaggerate this bad genes’ excuse if we don’t want to get sued for legal malpractice!” A mock-sincere look came to his face. “ ‘Distinguished members of the jury, it’s now been scientifically proven that a person can kill other people, not because they chose to do it, but because of the way their brain is made.’ Then I’ll talk about the ‘neuropsychiatric defect’ Consuelo had, and how you turned her into a model member of society by treating it. ‘My client couldn’t help himself. It’s not his fault doctors don’t know yet what kind of brain disease made him kill those people! It’s not his fault they don’t have a cure for it, like they found for Ms. Lopez!’
“Or maybe, with a conservative jury, I’ll use that old Sunday School idea of ‘original sin.’ You told the parole board all of us have—what was it?—‘neurobiologically-mediated personality traits.’ That the difference between a psychopath and somebody normal like you or me is just what particular traits and tendencies each person’s brain is preprogrammed to have.”
“Yes, but—”
“But that means some poor souls, just by bad luck and no fault of their own, are born with brains more susceptible to doing ‘evil.’ And isn’t it only fair those of us who were ‘luckier’ and got ‘healthier’ brains should feel compassion for our less fortunate brethren?”
Krueger glared at her. “Let me tell you what this ‘treatment’ you doctors have come up with is going to do. Other lawyers are going to twist the facts about it too, and dream up even more imaginative excuses to help their clients shirk responsibility for what they did. For every person like Consuelo you help, a lot more people will get less justice than they deserve because of what you’ve done.
“Hell, you’ve given a ‘scientific’ excuse for anarchy! Now anybody can say, ‘I can do what I want, when I want to do it. But nobody can hold me accountable if anything I do hurts me or anybody else, because it’s just the way my brain is made.’ And you can’t have much of a society, or anything approaching justice, if people’s freedom isn’t coupled with a strong sense of personal responsibility!”
Anna blinked. “But that’s not what we intended to do! We just wanted to help Consuelo and others like her! What you’re talking about is a perversion of the truth and what we tried to do!”
“Good intentions don’t mean anything. The only thing that matters is what actually happens after you do something, and not what you wanted to happen.”
Krueger looked at her contemptuously. “You ivory tower science types think truth is something objective. That it’s just waiting to be discovered, then everybody will agree what it is. But in the real world—like with juries—what is true is less important than what you can convince people is the truth. Maybe that’s not the way it should be. But that’s how it is.”
He snorted. “If your treatment really did work, I guess Consuelo is now the only good’ person in the world. The only one free of ‘original sin’—if you believe in that crap. Problem is, you doctors still haven’t come up with a magic pill to ‘save’ the rest of us sinners, and make us into little angels too. When you do, we can all beat our swords into plowshares, and the meek will inherit the Earth.”
His eyes bored into hers. “But until you do it, there’s going to be hell to pay!”
Anna tried to think of an answer. Before she could, Krueger grunted, “But hell, what am I doing, telling you that people are complicated.”
Anna looked at him, very confused. “Yes, they are.”
The lawyer motioned toward his desktop, “i’ll keep this junk you brought. Maybe I’ll figure out some way to use it to keep her from harassing Consuelo. In the meantime—both of you better be careful. She’s probably just out to get Consuelo. But she might figure ‘The friend of my enemy is my enemy too’—and also try to get you.”
Anna nodded. As she got up to leave Krueger said, “One more thing.”
The eyes in his pudgy face lingered lasciviously on her chest. “That pink blouse you’re wearing is my second-favorite.”
Consuelo didn’t ask what Krueger said, and Anna was too lost in her own thoughts to tell her. An hour later they drove back onto the single, elm-lined street of her subdivision. Arriving at the house, Anna checked the mail and looked for packages on the front porch. Today, at least, there was nothing new to worry about.
The supper Consuelo made that evening was her finest yet. Normally Anna didn’t care for mutton, but the way Consuelo made it was wonderful. As she passed a basket of hot rolls to Anna, the younger woman said, “I want to thank you again for everything you’ve done for me.”
Consuelo poured a little wine into Anna’s glass. “Whatever happens, I hope your memories of me are good ones.”
Her words made Anna uneasy. “Are you afraid something is going to happen to you?” Or are you planning to do something?
Consuelo sighed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. It seems like I’m just living from second to second, with no control over what happens to me.”
I know the feeling. “This is a difficult period of transition for you. It’s going to take time for you to get your life back on track. But I know you can do it.”
Consuelo smiled. “Thank you. You’ve been very kind to me, and I’ll never forget you.”
The rest of the evening went quickly. Consuelo sat silently on the couch in the family room, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Nestled nearby in her recliner, Anna brooded over what Krueger had said in his office. Earlier she’d turned the radio on and tuned in a classical music station. The choral music playing softly in the background made the atmosphere even more somber.
Consuelo got up. “I think I’ll go to bed now.”
“Is there anything special you’d like us to do tomorrow? Remember, we’ll have the whole day together again.”
“I’ll think about it.”
After Consuelo went upstairs, Anna remembered the things they’d bought today were still piled on the dining room table. She walked to the other room and examined each of their purchases carefully. Picking up the small figurine Consuelo liked so much, Anna carried it to the family room. She set it on an empty shelf, then stood back and gazed at it pensively. The little face of the figurine smiled sweetly back at her. Anna noticed the boy’s hair was black—just like Chuckie’s, or his father’s. In fact, Chuckie would have been five now, just like that boy—