By reason of insanity

54

"Both of you are probably familiar with a story from the Old Testament book of Daniel, from which we get our expression 'the handwriting on the wall.'" Rosemarie glanced at Quinn. "Well, at least one of you probably is."

Very funny. Quinn raised his beer toward her.

"A Persian king named Belshazzar was at the height of his glory," Rosemarie continued, "hosting a great feast in his banquet hall and guzzling down the wine. Probably had a few too many."

At this, Quinn thought he detected a reproving glance.

"On a whim, he gives an order for his servants to bring in the gold and silver vessels that his predecessor, Nebuchadnezzar, had taken from the Jewish temple in Jerusalem when he made the Jews his slaves. This guy Belshazzar and his wives and concubines drank wine out of these vessels and praised their Babylonian gods."

Rosemarie spoke with her hands, her face animated.

This is why juries love her so much, Quinn thought.

She turned suddenly toward Quinn, a finger extended. "This hand comes out of nowhere and writes a message on the wall." She lowered her voice into a James Earl Jones impersonation. "'Mene, Mene, Tekel, Parsin.' The king is so scared he turns pale, his hip joints shake like jelly, and his knees knock together. You know what the words mean?"

"Pretty Lady to show in the fourth?" Quinn asked.

"Not quite," Rosemarie said, her face scrunched in disapproval. "The king brought in all his mediums and astrologers, but only Daniel could figure it out."

"And?"

"Honestly, I don't remember, but that's actually beside the point.

…"

"Are you serious?" Quinn asked. "How can you remember the words and not remember what they mean?"

"You're right-I'm kidding," Rosemarie said. " Mene meant the king's days were numbered. Tekel meant he had been weighed on the scales and found deficient. Parsin meant the kingdom would be divided and given to the Medes and Persians-parceled out, so to speak. And sure enough, that night the king died."

"Sad story," said Quinn. "But what's that got to do with the handwriting on Catherine's cell wall?"

"It means there's precedent for this type of thing, Quinn." Dr. Mancini was serious now. "We're in the South, not Vegas. A lot of folks around here believe in a spiritual dimension that transcends what we can touch and see. In both the Old and New Testaments, there are times when God speaks in a dream or a vision, and it's not always through His prophets or apostles. Belshazzar was a Babylonian. The Egyptian pharaohs had dreams that were interpreted by Joseph. Pilate's wife had a dream warning her that her husband should not sentence Jesus to death. Some of the folks on our jury have probably had dreams or premonitions themselves, and many of them think they've heard from God."

"Maybe so," Marc Boland inserted as he moved some hot dogs onto the top grill to wait for the burgers to finish, "but we can't exactly give them a Bible lesson from the witness stand. I'm actually with Quinn on this one-and I'm a God-fearin', gun-totin' Southern evangelical. Just because that stuff happened in the Old Testament doesn't mean it's still happening. When people start claiming they've heard directly from God, it's usually a one-way ticket to crazy."

"Some jurors will be like me and gravitate to the faith angle," Rosemarie countered. "Others will want science or real-life examples. We can give them a little of everything-juror's choice. Take Allison DuBois, for example. In the year 2000, this nice-looking young lady was on her way to becoming a career prosecutor in the Maricopa County prosecutor's office. One day she went downstairs in her apartment building to get the laundry, and this man walks right through her. When she explains what happened to her husband and actually describes the man-he loves clam chowder; he's had a heart attack-her husband says, 'Hey! That's my grandfather.'

"So Allison DuBois is watching Dateline one night and sees a story about a guy named Gary Schwartz, a psychology professor at the University of Arizona who has conducted a bunch of experiments related to the afterlife. Allison goes to this professor so she can prove her 'vision' wasn't real and get on with her life. Instead, Schwartz discovers that this lady really does have a gift for seeing and hearing things the rest of us can't. She walked away from her job as a prosecutor and went on to help police as a medium. The NBC show that's been running for the last few years is loosely based on her life story."

What's with this sudden rush of great-looking mediums? Quinn wondered. "So our defense is that Catherine O'Rourke is some kind of medium or maybe a recipient of a message sent by God or Satan or some other kind of spiritual being?"

He looked from Rosemarie to Boland. They actually seemed to be considering it.

"Personally, I think there's a spiritual dimension to this," Rosemarie said softly. "I asked Catherine a lot of questions about past involvement in the occult or that type of thing and she denied any. Still… I think she could be holding something back."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. Dreams. Visions. Handwriting on the wall. Ghosts. He'd believe it when he saw it.

"We don't have to prove any of this," Boland said tentatively, starting to sound like a convert. "We just have to raise reasonable doubt."

This whole conversation had a feeling of desperation to Quinn. "I'm starting to see my own handwriting on the wall," Quinn said. "And it looks mysteriously like a guilty verdict."

On the way back to the hotel, Quinn and Rosemarie Mancini rode in relative silence. Rosemarie had insisted on driving, and after putting up a token argument, Quinn had given her the keys. He slouched low in the passenger seat.

"How's Annie?" Rosemarie eventually asked.

"Good," Quinn said. "Actually, more like just okay. She's worried about what's going to happen to Sierra in the next three years. What this will do to their long-term relationship."

"Who's going to take care of Sierra?"

"She's staying with the Schlesingers until she starts boarding school in California this fall," Quinn said, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in his own voice. "After that, she'll spend vacations and some weekends with me."

"Boarding school." Mancini simply repeated the words, but Quinn knew what she meant.

"It's not perfect, Rosemarie. But the Schlesingers can't keep her for three years. And there's no way I could do it, given my schedule at work. Besides, I'd be a lousy parent."

"Boarding school is probably better than the Schlesingers," Mancini confirmed. "But, Quinn, what Sierra needs, more than anything else, is unconditional love. You don't have to be perfect; you just need to be there for her."