By reason of insanity

59

Quinn heard about the recovery of Paul Donaldson's body when Melanie called his cell phone. "I saw it on the news," Quinn's assistant said. "They're saying that Donaldson was electrocuted. They say the Avenger hooked him up to a homemade electric chair and fried him."

"Whoa," Quinn said. He felt the case crashing around him. This kind of graphic testimony could really fire up a jury.

"They said the Avenger shaved some spots on Donaldson's scalp and legs to hook up the electrodes. It gets worse-you ready?"

"How can it get worse?"

"He had a gash on his scalp where the Avenger apparently jammed an electric razor into Donaldson's head trying to shave him. Maybe Donaldson was writhing around trying to get away-who knows? Anyway, both the editor of the Tidewater Times and Detective Webb are saying that our client implied Donaldson's head would have a gash."

"What?"

"Yeah. I guess she had another vision of some type."

"We're toast," said Quinn.

Melanie paused for a moment, perhaps uncertain as to whether she should broach this next subject. "You going to drop the case?"

"If Annie withdraws her plea, I'll have to. The firm said I could only handle one of these nonpaying cases."

"In the meantime, you want to do some TV?" Melanie asked, trying to sound upbeat. "Marc Boland called and said he really needs some help with the national cable shows."

Quinn thought about it for a moment. Marc was right-they would have to start on the damage control immediately. But Quinn had scheduled dinner with Rosemarie Mancini. Rosemarie had spent a few hours with Sierra that afternoon, and Quinn was anxious to get her advice.

"Tell Mr. Boland that I want to help but I just can't shake free tonight. I can do a few of the morning shows if he needs me to."

"You sure you don't want to call him yourself?" asked Melanie.

"I'm sure."

Rosemarie Mancini met Quinn in the hospital cafeteria. Quinn bought orange juice; Rosemarie settled for a cup of coffee that looked like it might have been brewed in the last millennium.

"She's going to be okay," Rosemarie said. "She's stronger than you think."

"Except that she just attempted suicide." Quinn kept his voice low, although the tables around them were empty.

"I guess you could say that," Rosemarie answered. "I would consider it more of a statement than a legitimate suicide attempt."

It seemed to Quinn like Rosemarie was splitting hairs, but he held his tongue.

"One out of fourteen girls Sierra's age will self-mutilate or attempt to take their lives. Most aren't enduring anything close to the trauma Sierra has experienced. The main thing we've got to do is eliminate the guilt."

Rosemarie watched Quinn closely, apparently trying to gauge his reaction. "She feels responsible for everything that's happened-her stepfather's death, her mother's imprisonment, the separation from her family. The Schlesingers have little or no rapport with Sierra, and she feels ostracized even among her friends. The thought of being uprooted and sent to a boarding school-on top of her mom going to jail-was just too much."

Quinn took a drink of juice and tried to digest what he was hearing. He knew Sierra was struggling emotionally, but suicide seemed like something that happened to other kids, not his own niece. Why hadn't he seen this coming? "What are you suggesting?" he asked.

"One of the greatest fears of any adolescent girl is to lose one or both parents through death or divorce. Sierra has already lost her stepdad. Now, just a few months later, she's faced with losing her mom."

Dr. Mancini swirled the coffee in her cup and softened her voice to a tone she seldom used. "She views you as a surrogate father, Quinn. This idea of sending her away to boarding school seems to her like more rejection."

A surrogate father? The words rocked Quinn. He admired his niece, loved her, but he had never considered that he might have such an important role in her life. He spent so little time with her and always felt somewhat ill at ease around her. What did Quinn know about the world of a thirteen-year-old girl? But Rosemarie seemed to be confirming Quinn's decision about taking Sierra in.

"You're saying she should live with me?"

"As opposed to the Schlesingers or boarding school, yes. My first preference, of course, would be Annie."

"Except that there's this small matter of her murder trial."

"A good lawyer could make that problem go away."

"Good luck finding one." Though he made the statement facetiously, it felt more like the truth every day. Quinn Newberg, legal magician, was losing his touch. He finished his orange juice, thinking about the impact of another trial on Sierra. "What if Annie gets convicted? Could Sierra handle that?"

Rosemarie shifted in her seat. "Here's my suggestion, Quinn. Let Sierra stay with you until the trial, even if that means you have to allow the court to revoke Annie's bail because the Schlesingers would no longer be custodians. Make it clear to Sierra that if, God forbid, we lose this trial, she'll be living with you until her mom is released. If you're willing to do that, I'll work with Sierra and counsel her through some of these tough issues. In a few months, she'll be strong enough to handle another trial."

Quinn had a ton of questions. How was he supposed to raise a teenage girl? How would Rosemarie counsel Sierra from D.C.? But most important: "And if her mom gets a life sentence-what happens then?"

Rosemarie thought for an uncomfortably long time, her face solemn. "That'd be a tough blow for anybody, Quinn. Sierra's psyche will still be pretty fragile." She gave Quinn a tight smile. "I think you ought to plan on winning."

On the way home from the hospital, Quinn checked his missed calls and voice mails. He had three calls and two messages from Marc Boland. Guilt stabbed at Quinn as he returned his co-counsel's call. Soon he would have to tell Marc that he couldn't be part of Catherine's defense team. Just the thought of bailing out made him sick.

Marc gave Quinn a quick rundown of the television interviews he had conducted that night and his schedule for the next day. "I'm getting hammered, Quinn. There's just too much to explain now-DNA evidence, the methohexital, the visions, Catherine's attack on her cellmate, and now a body turns up with a gash to the scalp, just like Catherine suggested."

Quinn could hear the weariness in Marc's voice, the sound of a crusader on a lost cause.

"I think we've got to consider changing our plea," Marc said.

They discussed it for twenty minutes over the phone. Marc had seen the light, he said. He was willing to talk with Catherine about pleading not guilty by reason of insanity, relying on dissociative identity disorder. He wanted Quinn to take the lead. Marc also suggested they waive the preliminary hearing scheduled for next week, since they no longer had any hope of getting the case thrown out at that stage, and instead just ask for an early trial date.

"Every day, this case gets worse," Marc said. "There's no sense giving the government a chance to parade all these grisly facts in front of the press at a preliminary hearing. If we're pleading insanity, let's line up our experts and get to trial before the press can completely crucify Catherine. And let's start laying the groundwork for an insanity plea during tomorrow's TV appearances. You can take the lead."

Quinn hesitated. He couldn't agree to be lead lawyer for a case he would withdraw from in a week. Still, he had always believed that insanity was the right defense.

"Let's take it one step at a time," Quinn suggested. "I'll start hinting at a possible insanity plea during tomorrow's interviews. You need to set up a meeting with Catherine."

"I just can't believe she's a serial killer," Marc Boland said. "It's just crazy."

Despite his sour mood, Quinn found irony in Marc's statement. "That's what I've been saying all along."