03_Cornered Coyote

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03_Cornered Coyote Page 17

by Dianne Harman


  “Yes. That is correct. He did not die from the drugs.”

  “I have no further questions, your Honor.”

  * * * * *

  “Dr. Herzog, thank you for taking time from your private practice to come today. My client and I appreciate it. Please tell us about your medical background.”

  “I went to Johns Hopkins University and received a medical degree. I went on to specialize in psychiatry. I was hired by Dr. Seth Rosen who had a large psychiatric practice in Los Angeles. When he retired I took over his practice. I have testified as an expert witness in over two hundred trials.”

  “Was Jeffrey Brooks a patient of yours?”

  “Yes. He had been a patient of mine for over twenty-five years.”

  “Why was he a patient?”

  “He suffered from a manic-depressive disorder, sometimes called bi-polar. He was in college when he first came to me. I did a number of tests on him and determined that he had a manic-depressive disorder. The tests confirmed my instincts. I assessed him annually and if necessary, I would change his prescription or suggest a new drug. In my profession there are always new ‘wonder’ drugs. He was very careful to take a daily pill and it levelled out his emotions and mental stability. Once he began taking the pills, his life changed. He found it easier to make friends and he even got married.”

  “When was the last time you saw Mr. Brooks as a patient?”

  “I saw him approximately two years ago. He didn’t return the following year for his scheduled annual appointment. I assumed he had moved out of the area and was seeing another psychiatrist.”

  “Doctor, I believe you heard the testimony from Dr. Fuchida. He stated that the only drugs in Jeffrey Brooks’ body when he died were those that were commonly found in a medication administered to manic-depressive patients. He went on to say that there was a massive imbalance with respect to one ingredient. He testified that one of the chemicals present in Jeffrey Brooks’ body was in such a large amount that it could cause insanity. What is your professional opinion of his statement?”

  “Yes. I did hear him say that and I agree with his conclusions. The only thing I can infer from the autopsy results is that Mr. Brooks was trying to self-medicate, that is to say he was making his own manic-depressive drugs and administering them to himself. The fact that no prescriptions from another doctor were found in his office or his home tells me he was formulating a drug on his own to simulate the manic-depressive drug I’d prescribed for him.”

  “Objection,” Marsha said. “That is conjecture.”

  “Overruled. The doctor is an expert witness. The defense is asking if something was possible in his professional opinion. Proceed, Doctor.”

  “Thank you. Jeffrey Brooks was a brilliant scientist. If he was not taking his medication or if it was altered, he could have been in a manic state and believed he was capable of duplicating the drug I’d prescribed. I think that’s what happened to him. It was a mistake on his part and it probably cost him his life.”

  “Doctor, I’d like to be very clear on this point. In your professional opinion, if the ingredients of a manic-depressive medicine are altered, can it cause insanity?”

  “There is no doubt in my mind that an imbalance of ingredients can result in insanity.”

  “Again, Dr. Herzog, thank you. No further questions.”

  “I have no questions, your Honor,” Marsha said.

  * * * * *

  “Defense calls as its next witness, Sean Moriarty.”

  “Mr. Moriarty, thank you for taking the time to be here. Would you tell us about your background and why you are qualified to be an expert witness?”

  “Certainly. I am a licensed psychologist, the director of a non-profit organization that helps troubled people, and I am a former Catholic priest. I’ve counseled thousands of people, many with psychological disorders. I travel throughout the country speaking to interested groups on these subjects.”

  “Would you tell the court how you met Maria Brooks?”

  Sean shifted in his seat and began to speak. “It is difficult for me to talk about this, but I’ll do the best I can. I was a Catholic priest at a church in Santa Fe. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I had molested several young altar boys and I was an alcoholic. When the bishop discovered my transgressions, I was relieved of my duties and kicked out of the church, defrocked, if you will. On the day I was defrocked, I left Santa Fe to drive to my old family home in California.”

  He paused and took a deep breath. It was apparent to everyone in the courtroom that revisiting that day was very painful to him.

  “I didn’t know what the future held for me and believed that my life was over. I was drinking while I was driving and almost ran my car off the road. I pulled into the Blue Coyote Motel and was greeted by Maria, who called me ‘Father.’ I was wearing a large cross and my face looked like a road map from all the drinking. I suppose it wasn’t a real leap to realize I was in trouble. I remember falling asleep when I got to my room. When I woke up and went to get something to eat, I made a wrong turn and followed what sounded to me like a generator. I went down some stairs and saw a sign on a door indicating that no one was to enter. Later, I learned it was Jeffrey Brook’s lab.”

  “Did you open the door that evening? Did you see Jeffrey?”

  “No. I walked back up the stairs, got some food, went to my room, and read a book until I fell asleep. When I woke up the next day, quite late for me, I felt great. I honestly believed a new life awaited me. This euphoric feeling stayed with me for several months and during that time I quit drinking, became the director of an outpatient counseling clinic in Denver, and even got married. My life was wonderful and then things started going downhill. I decided to return to the Blue Coyote Motel, hoping to experience that euphoric state once more. I returned on Memorial Day weekend.”

  “If you need to, take a moment. We have all the time in the world,” Brian said.

  “Thanks.” Sean took a drink of water and resumed. “Friday night everyone went to their rooms. Saturday was beautiful and all of the guests ended up around the pool, just talking as strangers tend to do when they’re all in the same place. After listening to the others, I realized we were all there for the same reason, to experience euphoria. The thought occurred to me that this behavior is very similar to people who are taking drugs. I’ve done a fair amount of drug counseling, both as a priest, and as a therapist in Denver, and I began to see similarities. Later on that afternoon, I excused myself and went to my room. I had my iPad with me and I did a little research on Jeffrey Brooks. I found out he had been a brilliant scientist and had been fired from Moore Labs for allegedly giving his wife, Maria, an anti-aging drug.

  “I decided I’d talk to Jorge, one of the other guests, because I’d overheard that he spent a lot of time in the Amazon. I’ve read that a lot of drug breakthroughs came from plants that grow in the Amazon. I wondered if he might know anything about drugs, and if so, if he had any idea how a drug might be administered to unsuspecting guests at the motel. I was tired and took a nap for a couple of hours. When I woke up I was hungry and went to get something to eat. Fortunately, Jorge was getting some dinner for his wife Luisa and himself. I introduced myself and asked him if he would come to my room after he finished eating, that I wanted to run a few things by him.”

  “Did Jorge know you suspected that there was some tie-in between the motel, drugs, and the behavior of the guests?”

  “No, not then. He came to my room around 7:00 that evening and we talked for a couple of hours. I told him about Jeffrey’s background, my suspicions, and that I couldn’t figure out how all of us could have become addicted to some substance at the motel. He ruled out water because he and Luisa only drank bottled water. Food was out of the question because of our different weights, food preferences, and spoilage. The only thing left was the air. One of us, I forget which one, came up with the idea that maybe it was being piped into our rooms through the air-conditioning system. The more we thought
about it, the more sense it made.”

  “So you’re telling me you and Jorge came up with the idea that some addictive substance was being piped into your rooms, is that correct? And did you tell the others?”

  “Yes. Jorge and I went to their rooms and asked them to come to my room for a meeting. When Jorge and I told them our theory, they were outraged. They couldn’t believe anyone would do that. We explained we suspected Jeffrey because of his scientific background and how we had come to believe that it was a definite possibility.”

  “Okay, then what happened?”

  “It was pretty much a joint decision by all of us. We decided we needed to meet with Jeffrey. You have to realize none of us had ever met him. Jorge and I walked over to the office and asked Maria if she would call Jeffrey and tell him we’d like to meet with him. She called him and he told her to have us come to the lab.

  “The six of us went down the stairs to his basement laboratory. I knocked and Jeffrey opened the door. In my work I’ve been around a lot of people who are mentally unstable. When I saw him, there was no doubt in my mind that he was unbalanced. His hair was greasy and matted and his beard was studded with food droppings. He smelled terrible, but what I really remember were his fingernails. They were yellow and must have been a couple of inches long. His eyes looked like they were on fire. I wondered what he was seeing in his mind. I introduced myself and the others to him. He gave us a tour of the lab, clearly proud of it and his experiments.

  “I think most of us knew we were in the presence of a genius, albeit a mentally disturbed genius. It was as if he’d lost touch with reality. He showed us how he’d been able to get the drug he called “Freedom” piped into our rooms through the air-conditioning system. He was very proud of his accomplishments. He even told us he was going to do what Buddha, Christ, Mohammed, and others had been unable to do – achieve world peace. He’d combined Freedom, the ‘feel good’ drug, and the anti-aging hormone into a pill which could be taken monthly. The price for the pills was $20,000 a year. Jeffrey had even prepared packets of twelve pills for each of us. Each pill lasted a month. He was that certain we would want to buy them. I think I told him we needed to talk about it and asked him if he would meet us early the next morning, which he agreed to do.”

  “Did you meet the next morning?”

  “Yes. I asked the group to come to my room at 7:30 the next morning. That night we each went our own separate way to do some soul-searching and think about whether or not we wanted to take the drug. We met the next morning and the meeting was very contentious. Sam, a Native American pediatrician, was very opposed to anyone buying the drug from Jeffrey, and spoke passionately about the decimation of Native Americans from the improper use of alcohol and drugs. I had decided I wouldn’t take the drug. That left the other four.

  “All six of us went down to the lab that morning. Jeffrey had spittle foaming from the sides of his mouth and he seemed even more unstable than he’d been the night before. It was a very short meeting. Sam left almost immediately, saying he’d be in touch with me later. I left shortly thereafter. Before I left the motel, I put a business card under everyone’s door with my telephone number on it. I also gave one to Maria when I checked out. I drove to Phoenix and flew back to my home in Colorado.”

  “Did you ever see Jeffrey again?”

  “No. Never. I went through a period of withdrawal after I refused to take Freedom. The next time I heard of Jeffrey was when Detective Lawrence called me saying he had found my name on a computer at the motel and wondered if I could tell him anything about the Blue Coyote Motel or Jeffrey Brooks.”

  “So, let me be very clear about this. In your professional opinion, was Jeffrey Brooks insane?”

  “Yes, without a doubt. I would stake my professional reputation on it.”

  “Do you think Maria Brooks knew that her husband was administering the drug to the motel guests?”

  “No. I don’t think she had anything to do with it. Maria is one of the gentlest people I’ve ever met. I don’t believe she is capable of committing murder. If she pulled the trigger on the gun that killed Jeffrey Brooks, I am absolutely certain it was in self-defense, in fear of being killed by that madman.”

  “Thank you Mr. Moriarty. I appreciate your honesty. Your witness, Ms. Sinclair.”

  * * * * *

  “Mr. Moriarty, I heard you say that you had been defrocked by the Catholic Church for child molestation and that you were an alcoholic. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. That is correct.”

  “No further questions, your Honor.”

  * * * * *

  “The defense calls Jill Loren as its next witness,” Brian said.

  “Ms. Loren, thank you for coming. Would you tell the court how you happened to spend some time at the Blue Coyote Motel?”

  “My husband had passed away and I was very depressed. I’d even gotten a doctor to give me a prescription for sleeping pills. I was ready to commit suicide by taking an overdose of those pills. I was driving back from Dallas when I realized I was going 110 miles an hour. My car was nearly out of control and I, for sure, was out of control. It was dusk and I was tired when I saw the sign for the Blue Coyote Motel. I remember when I walked into the office Maria came around the desk and hugged me,” she said as she smiled at Maria.

  Jill’s voice began to quiver, “I didn’t realize tears were rolling down my face. What Maria did was an instinctive act of compassion. Like Sean, I ate, went to bed and woke up feeling wonderful, the best I’d felt since my husband, Rick, had died. I threw my sleeping pills out the car window when I left the motel on my way home. I returned to Newport Beach, became active in non-profit fundraising, traveled to Nepal, and met and fell in love with a doctor from San Francisco.

  “After a few months I began to feel depressed, much like I’d felt after my husband died. I decided to go back to the Blue Coyote Motel and try to regain those good feelings I’d had when I first visited it. I went on Memorial Day weekend. My experience was exactly like Sean’s. Saturday was wonderful out by the pool. That evening we met in Sean’s room. He and Jorge told us their suspicions. I was very frightened when I saw Jeffrey. He looked like how a madman would look in my worst nightmare. I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, but Jeffrey began telling us about the new drug he’d formulated which combined Freedom with an anti-aging hormone.” She stopped and took a deep breath.

  “I’m not very proud of what I did, but I was so afraid of becoming suicidal again. I had a second chance at life with a wonderful man I’d met. I couldn’t go back to being the depressed woman I’d been when I’d first stayed at the Blue Coyote Motel. I bought a year’s supply of the drug and left the lab. If it meant I was addicted to a drug, at that time I really thought it was worth it. However, I don’t think any of us felt very good about it. Some of us had flights to catch, others long drives. We barely spoke to one another as we left.”

  “Ms. Loren, when Jeffrey died, the drugs were no longer available. What did you do?”

  “I stopped taking the drugs prior to his death. My fiancé found them in a drawer. I admitted I was taking drugs. He’s a doctor and told me he wouldn’t marry me if I continued to take them. I remembered Sean had given each of us his business card when he’d left the Blue Coyote Motel. I called him. He told me he and Sam were talking once a week via Skype and I was welcome to join them. They’d supported each other when they’d experienced withdrawal symptoms. Without their support I’m not sure what would have happened to me. I’m no longer addicted to the drug Jeffrey called Freedom. I honestly believe Jeffrey Brooks deserved to die. He was a crazy, terrible, insane monster.”

  “Objection, your Honor. The witness is not an expert witness.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Thank you again, Ms. Loren. Your witness,” he said turning to Marsha.

  * * * * *

  “Ms. Loren, Freedom had been piped into your room through the air-conditioning system when you went back to the Blue
Coyote Motel that Memorial Day weekend, is that correct?”

  “I believe it was.”

  “You said you thought Jeffrey looked like a madman when you met him in the lab, is that correct?”

  “Yes, I believe that’s what I said.”

  “Isn’t it possible that your perception of Jeffrey being a madman was caused by being under the influence of Freedom?”

  “The drug had no bearing on my intellectual capabilities. I was definitely able to assess his mental state as being insane, over the edge, whatever you want to call it. His presence was scary and frightening.”

  “No more questions, your Honor.”

  “Court is adjourned until 9:00 tomorrow morning. The jury is admonished not to discuss this case with anyone or read or watch any media coverage about it. Have a nice evening.” Judge Adams banged his gavel and left the courtroom.

  CHAPTER 38

  Jordan turned on his car radio and found an all-news station. The lead story was the trial. The drug angle had only recently come to light. It was a story the media couldn’t get enough of.

  When he got home, he hurried over to the television and turned on a news channel. They, too, were featuring the trial. There were photographs of him, Maria, the witnesses, and the courthouse. Every station had its own expert attorney giving his or her thoughts on the outcome of the trial. After he flipped from one to another he stopped on channel four and listened.

  “Mr. Swayze, in your professional opinion, what do you think the outcome of this trial will be? In other words, will Maria Brooks be convicted for the murder of her husband, Jeffrey Brooks?” the talking head asked.

  “I don’t see how the jury could acquit her. Think about it. She certainly had the motive, actually several motives. Four million dollars is a pretty good motive. And if her husband was going insane, wouldn’t it make more sense to kill him in a basement when no one else was around than wait until he was completely insane and have him committed to a mental institution. And if he was committed to a mental institution, that money would still be half his.”

 

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