Beauty vs. the Beast

by M. J. Rodgers

  “Why? Were you trying to avoid him?”

  Larry straightened, a frown beginning to replace the previously enduring sneer on his face. “‘Course not.”

  “Then why were you gone so much?”

  “I had stuff to do.”

  He was strenuously resisting giving her straight answers. Kay could see it and she knew the jury could see it, too. “Mr. Nye, how many times was your father sober when he was home?”

  “You expecting me to give you some number, or something?”

  “How about an approximation. Half the time? A fourth of the time?”

  “Yeah, a fourth of the time.”

  “And he was a good father to you when he was sober at least a fourth of the time when he was home?”

  “I said I had no complaints, didn’t I?”

  Kay turned and walked toward the defense table. She retrieved a folder off the top of her papers. “May I approach the witness?” she asked the bench.

  “You may,” Ingle replied, an expectant gleam in his eyes as he saw the folder.

  Kay slowly walked up to the witness stand. She handed the folder to Larry Nye. “This is from a police file on your father. Open the folder, please. Tell the court the title of the document inside.”

  The last of Larry’s sneer faded. His voice turned sullen. “Summary of Juvenile Interview,” he read.

  “Who were the parties to this interview?”

  “Me and a social worker.”

  “How old were you when this interview took place?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “And why were you being interviewed?”

  “Cops picked me up after I’d run away from home.”

  “Why had you run away?”

  “Because my old man had beaten me. What’s the big deal? I told you, when he got drunk he went crazy.”

  “Mr. Nye, please read for the court the paragraph I have highlighted in the body of that interview, the paragraph taken down verbatim by the social worker as your explanation for why you ran away from home.”

  He read in clearly reluctant, halting, jerky spurts.

  “It was Saturday morning. I was in the kitchen. He’d just gotten out of bed in his usual foul, nasty mood. My old lady had taken my sister to some school thing. He was mad she wasn’t there to wait on him. He started beating me with an iron skillet. I got out of there. I’m not going back. Not while that S.O.B. is alive.”

  Kay let the quiet after Larry Nye’s reading extend for several seconds throughout the courtroom, giving its occupants full opportunity for his words to sink in.

  “Mr. Nye, was your father drunk when he beat you with that iron skillet that morning?”

  Larry’s hand curled into a fist, twisting the file folder in his hand. “Yeah, he was drunk.”

  “After he had just awakened? He wasn’t just in his usual foul, nasty mood as you told the social worker?”

  “No, he was drunk, I tell you. Bastard was always drunk.”

  “I thought you said earlier that he was sober at least a fourth of the time?”

  “So I got it wrong.”

  “Did you ‘get it wrong’ when you said he was sober at least a fourth of the time, or are you ‘getting it wrong’ now when you said he was drunk that morning?”

  Larry leaned forward in the witness chair, his shoulders hunched, his mouth sneering. “You think you’re going to get me to say he was sober when he beat on me, don’t you? Well, he was drunk, see? Bastard hit us when he was drunk. Dr. Steele could have cured him. But instead, he killed him. Dr. Steele has got to pay.”

  Kay put a sad note in her soft voice that traveled into every ear in the courtroom. “I’m afraid a lot of people have already paid for your father’s abuse, Mr. Nye. Far too many. And the price has been far too high. No one should have to pay anymore.”

  “Objection,” Croghan yelled. “Counsel is speech making.”

  “Sustained,” the judge said.

  “I have no further questions,” Kay said.

  She turned from the man who resembled Roy Nye far too closely for comfort and walked slowly back to the defense table.

  As soon as she sat down, Damian leaned over to her. “I hope I never have to be on the wrong end of a witness stand from you, lady lawyer.”

  She smiled, for a moment forgetting the danger that stalked him, the violence that haunted him, remembering only the warmth of his tone and his touch.

  “Who do you think Croghan will call next?” Damian asked.

  “Rosy Nye, the daughter.”

  “I call Dr. Upton Van Pratt,” Croghan said, immediately proving Kay wrong.

  Kay frowned. Why not the daughter?

  * * *

  DAMIAN SENSED Kay’s attention being totally taken by the distinguished-looking, white-haired man with the very straight carriage and clear, light blue eyes, who approached the witness stand and raised his hand to be sworn in. He gave his name and address in a clear, crisp tone.

  Dr. Upton Van Pratt sat comfortably in the witness chair, appearing neither nervous nor cocky. To Damian, it was obvious that this man had psychological training and many trial appearances beneath his belt.

  For the next five minutes, Croghan had Van Pratt reciting a litany of his very impressive professional credits. The man had accomplished some pretty outstanding things in his thirty-five years as a psychologist; he’d held every important position possible for a clinician to hold and authored five books on cognitive therapy.

  “Dr. Van Pratt,” Croghan said, “is there a recognized and accepted treatment for multiple personality disorder in current psychological and psychiatric literature?”

  “The field’s official diagnostic manual terms the condition dissociative identity disorder, Mr. Croghan.”

  “Yes, Dr. Van Pratt. But because the jury knows it as multiple personality disorder or MPD, would you mind using those terms, please?”

  “All right. The treatment goal for an MPD patient is integration.”

  “What do you mean by integration?”

  “For the separated parts of the individual’s personality to become one again.”

  “And how does integration take place?”

  “First and foremost, a therapist must identify all alters present in the individual.”

  “What do you mean by alters?”

  “Alters are the disparate personality pieces that exist within the individual. They are the separate selves.”

  “Why does a multiple-personality patient have these multiple personalities, separate selves or alters as you call them?”

  “The patient has created each one of his alter personalities as a result of childhood abuse. Each represents a specific reaction to that abuse. Each alter is a split-out aspect, a caricature of one part of the whole personality that once existed in the mind.”

  “Are some alters more important than others?”

  “No. All are equally important.”

  “So, no alter personality should be exalted over another?”

  “That’s correct. A therapist must treat all alters fairly and empathically. Each has its function in the final integrated human being.”

  “Each has its function?” Croghan repeated, obviously for emphasis.

  “Yes.”

  “Is it common for an alter personality to be addicted to, even allergic to, alcohol?”

  “Yes. Quite often, one or more alters are addicted to drugs and/or alcohol.”

  “Can they become abusive to others while intoxicated?”

  “When an alter abuses others, it is often as a consequence of his own severe childhood abuse. They are victims, too, in need of help and must be treated as such.”

  “Is an alter with an alcohol problem and prone to abusing others of less value than an alter without those problems?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “But this alter would be harder to treat, wouldn’t he?”

  “Alters that are more disturbed than others will naturally need more attention and work, ju
st like any whole personality patient with such problems.”

  “Dr. Van Pratt, would his special problems keep you from treating this more disturbed alter?”

  “On the contrary. A good therapist would consider a more difficult alter an opportunity to hone his psychoanalytic skills and welcome the challenge the alter presented.”

  “So you would consider such an alter a challenge, not a dysfunctional personality fragment?”

  “There is no such thing as a dysfunctional personality fragment in an MPD individual. All alter personalities have a reason for being, are equally important and must be treated accordingly.”

  “Would there ever be an occasion when you would consider trying to extinguish an alter from an MPD patient?”

  “Never.”

  “Would it be wrong for a therapist to attempt this?”

  “I would consider it extremely ill advised and potentially very damaging. A patient needs each part of his psyche to become who he was meant to be.”

  “So, attempting to extinguish an alter is always a wrong treatment decision for a multiple-personality patient?”

  “Always.”

  “Can you give us an example of how a competent therapist would treat an MPD patient?”

  “A therapist would help each alter understand that it was created in response to abuse and, since that abuse no longer exists, there is no further purpose to its separate existence. The alters can then agree to join and become whole.”

  “Become whole? Is that what you meant by your earlier term—integration?”

  “Yes. The dissociated memories and personality fragments of the MPD individual all meld and become one, and the individual goes on to live a normal, healthy, integrated life.”

  “Dr. Van Pratt, is this integration process for the treatment of multiple personalities just your opinion?”

  “No, integration is the only recognized and documented treatment for multiple personality disorder in psychological journals and textbooks today.”

  “I want this to be perfectly clear. Did you just say that the integration of all alter personalities is the only recognized and documented treatment for multiple personality disorder?”

  “Yes, Mr. Croghan. The only one.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Van Pratt. I have no further questions.”

  Kay got slowly to her feet. No doubt about it. This man’s testimony had been absolutely devastating. With every calm and confident word out of his mouth, he had condemned Damian’s treatment decision regarding his patient, LeRoy Nye.

  Van Pratt sat totally at ease in the witness chair. He was a man of impeccable credentials and impeccable presence, clearly honest and sincere, with no emotional investment in the outcome of this trial.

  He was, literally, a defense attorney’s nightmare.

  Kay stood before him, knowing she was facing not just the most important witness of this trial, but also one of the most difficult witnesses of her career. Still, she was determined to use every scrap of legal shrapnel in her arsenal.

  “Dr. Van Pratt, is the plaintiff paying you for your appearance here in court today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you have testified without being paid?”

  “No, my time is valuable.”

  “Are you presently a practicing psychologist?”

  “I no longer see patients.”

  “How often have you testified in court over the last six months?”

  “Possibly a dozen times.”

  “A dozen times in only six months?”

  “Yes.”

  “And were you paid each time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well paid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, no wonder you no longer need to see patients. Being paid for your testimony is proving a lucrative profession for you, isn’t it, Doctor?”

  “Your Honor, I object!” Croghan shouted in his industrial-strength voice. “Dr. Van Pratt has every right to be compensated for his time. Ms. Kellogg is casting improper aspersions on the character of this most eminent psychologist!”

  “It’s rather a close call on this,” Ingle admitted. “Let’s just say you’ve made your point, Ms. Kellogg, and now let’s move along, shall we?”

  Kay smiled at him. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  She turned back to Van Pratt.

  “Doctor, have you ever treated a patient with MPD?”

  “Not personally.”

  “Have you ever consulted on a case of MPD?”

  “No.”

  “Would it be true to say then that the opinions you have expressed in this court today concerning multiple personality disorder are not arrived at through personal experience?”

  “I’ve read all the textbooks and case journals.”

  “But you’ve never been personally involved in a case of MPD, have you?”

  “No.”

  Kay walked back to her desk and picked up another folder. “May I approach the witness, Your Honor?”

  “By all means, Ms. Kellogg,” Ingle said eagerly. He always got that eager gleam in his eye when she brought out another folder.

  Kay opened and handed the folder to Dr. Van Pratt.

  “Dr. Van Pratt, do you recognize this document?”

  “It’s an article I wrote for the American Psychological Journal ten years ago.”

  “Would you read aloud the third paragraph of the article you authored, please? It’s the part I’ve highlighted in yellow.”

  Van Pratt took a moment to clear his throat. “It is always a mistake for a psychologist to diagnose or suggest treatment for a patient whom he has not seen and for any case in which he is not privy to all the empirical data.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Van Pratt. Did you write those words?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they a true and accurate reflection of your thoughts and opinions?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you still agree that no psychologist should diagnose or suggest treatment for a patient whom he has not seen and for any case in which he is not privy to all the empirical data?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, please tell this court, did you ever see Dr. Damian Steele’s patient LeRoy Nye?”

  “No.”

  “Did Dr. Steele or any other doctor consult with you about the particulars of Mr. Nye’s case?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any personal, empirical data about the case?”

  “No.”

  “Then how can you sit in this courtroom and presume to prescribe the proper treatment for Dr. Steele’s patient?”

  “I’m not prescribing the proper treatment for Dr. Steele’s patient.”

  “Well, forgive me, Doctor, but I thought that’s exactly what you were doing.”

  “Ms. Kellogg, I believe if you examine my testimony, you will find that not once have I referred to Dr. Steele’s patient. As an expert in the field of psychology, I answered questions only about the treatment of multiple personality disorder.”

  “You may be an expert in the field of psychology, sir, but you have no personal experience in the treatment of multiple personality disorder, isn’t that correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “So, all you were really doing was quoting out of a textbook, wasn’t it?”

  “I am fully informed on all the mainstream beliefs gathered by other psychologists—”

  “Gathered by other psychologists. But nothing gathered by yourself. No empirical data of your own. Isn’t that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve never seen a multiple-personality patient, true?”

  “True.”

  “So you’ve never met an MPD alter that was so vicious and abusive that it was ruining any chance for an individual suffering from the disorder to make a decent life for himself, have you?”

  “I don’t believe that such an alter exists.”

  “But you never met Roy Nye, did you, Dr. Van Pratt?”

  “No.” />
  “Do you believe a psychologist should diagnose or suggest treatment for a patient whom he has not seen?”

  “No.”

  “So you cannot personally attest that Roy Nye was not such a vicious and abusive alter, can you?”

  “No.”

  “And you cannot say whether Dr. Steele did the right thing in extinguishing him, can you?”

  “He couldn’t have extinguished him.”

  Kay stared at the witness, clearly uncertain if she had heard him right. “Excuse me, Dr. Van Pratt, did you just say Dr. Steele couldn’t have extinguished Roy Nye?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Would you please explain that very startling statement?”

  “No psychologist can extinguish an alter of a multiple-personality patient. The patient has created those alters. Only the patient can extinguish them.”

  “Let me get this clear. Are you saying it is your opinion—your expert psychological opinion—that Roy Nye still exists?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Dr. Van Pratt, if Roy Nye still exists, we have no basis at all for this trial, do we? Thank you. I have no further questions.”

  Kay headed for the defense table with mixed feelings about the cross-examination of the eminent Dr. Upton Van Pratt. On the one hand, she knew that his firmly expressed beliefs based on the official psychological treatment of multiple personality disorder would hold potent sway in the jury’s mind. On the other hand, she had just gotten Van Pratt to repudiate the basic cause of action of the plaintiff.

  Sloppy of Croghan not to have explored that possibility with his witness. Her competent adversary had made his first mistake. And it was a serious one.

  “Your Honor,” Croghan said, “I call Roy Nye to the stand.”

  “What?” Kay said, twisting around, certain she couldn’t have heard right.

  Croghan was looking directly at her, a smile snaking within his dark beard. He latched his thumbs into his belt buckle and rolled back on his heels. “Ms. Kellogg just enthusiastically encouraged this court to believe that Roy Nye was still alive. She should have no objections to my calling him to the stand to make sure.”

  And that was when Kay knew Croghan had not made a mistake. He’d set her up.

  Kay had not even seen the trap. And now here she was, securely caught in the steel jaws of its legal teeth.