Along Came a Spider

It was Monday morning. The weekend seemed a million miles away. Beads of perspiration started to roll across my scalp.
    “Can you tell us why you are assigned cases with psychological implications?” Anthony Nathan asked me.
    “I’m a psychologist as well as a detective. I had a private practice before I joined the D.C. police force,” I said. “Prior to that, I worked in agriculture. I was a migrant farmworker for a year.”
    “Your degree is from?” Nathan refused to be distracted from establishing me as an impressive-as-hell person.
    “As you already know, Mr. Nathan, my doctorate is from Johns Hopkins.”
    “One of the finest schools in the country, certainly this part of the country,” he said.
    “Objection. That’s Mr. Nathan’s opinion.” Mary Warner made a fair legal point.
    Judge Kaplan upheld the objection.
    “You’ve also published articles in
Psychiatric Archives
, in the
American Journal of Psychiatry
.” Nathan continued as if Ms. Warner and Judge Kaplan were inconsequential.
    “I’ve written a few papers. It’s really not such a big deal, Mr. Nathan. A lot of psychologists publish.”
    “But not in the
Journal
and
Archives
, Dr. Cross. What was the subject of these learned articles?”
    “I write about the criminal mind. I know enough three-and four-syllable words to qualify for the so-called learned journals.”
    “I admire your modesty, I honestly do. Tell me something, Dr. Cross. You’ve observed me these past few weeks. How would you describe my personality?”
    “I’d need some private sessions for that, Mr. Nathan. I’m not sure if you could pay me enough for the therapy.”
    There was laughter throughout the courtroom. Even Judge Kaplan enjoyed a rare moment of mirth.
    “Hazard a guess,” Nathan continued. “I can take it.”
    He had a quick and very inventive mind. Anthony Nathan was highly creative. He had first established that I was my own witness, not an “expert” in his pocket.
    “You’re neurotic.” I smiled. “And probably devious.”
    Nathan faced the jury and turned his palms up. “At least he’s honest. And if nothing else, I get a free shrink session this morning.”
    More laughter came from the jury box. This time, I got the feeling that some of the jurors were beginning to change their minds about Anthony Nathan, and maybe about his client as well.
    They had intensely disliked him at first. Now they saw that he was engaging, and very, very bright. He was doing a professional, maybe even a brilliant, job for his client.
    “How many sessions have you had with Gary Murphy?” he asked me now. Gary
Murphy
, not Soneji.
    “We had fifteen sessions over a period of three and a half months.”
    “Enough to form some opinions, I trust?”
    “Psychiatry isn’t that exact a science. I would like to have had more sessions. I do have some preliminary opinions.”
    “Which are?” Nathan asked me.
    “Objection!” Mary Warner rose once again. She was a busy lady. “Detective Cross has just said he would need more sessions to form a final medical opinion.”
    “Overruled,” Judge Kaplan said. “Detective Cross has also stated he has some preliminary opinions. I’d like to hear what those are.”
    “Dr. Cross,” Nathan continued as if none of the interruptions had occurred, “unlike the other psychiatrists and psychologists who have seen Gary Murphy, you’ve been intimately involved in this case right from the start — both as a police officer and as a psychologist.”
    The prosecutor interrupted Nathan again. She was losing her patience. “Your Honor, does Mr. Nathan have a question to ask?”
    “Do you, Mr. Nathan?”
    Anthony Nathan turned to Mary Warner and snapped his fingers at her. “A question? — no sweat.” He turned back to me.
    “As a police officer involved from the very beginning of this case, and as a trained psychologist, can you give us your professional opinion of Gary Murphy?”
    I looked at Murphy/Soneji. He appeared to be Gary Murphy. At this moment, he looked like a sympathetic and decent man who was trapped in the worst possible nightmare that anyone could possibly imagine.
    “My first feelings and honest impressions were very basic and human. The kidnapping by a teacher shocked and disturbed me,” I began my answer. “It was a profound breach of trust. It got much worse than that. I personally saw the tortured body of Michael Goldberg. It’s something I will never forget. I have talked with Mr. and Mrs.