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“Fred Brinkley has a history of mental illness going back fifteen years to when he was a patient in a mental institution.
“Dozens of witnesses have testified that they’ve heard Mr. Brinkley talking to television sets and singing to himself and slapping his forehead so hard that his handprint remained visible long afterward — that’s how much he wanted to knock the voices out of his head.
“You’ve also heard from Dr. Sandy Friedman, a highly regarded clinical and forensic psychiatrist who examined Mr. Brinkley three times and diagnosed him with schizoaffective disorder,” Sherman said, pacing now as he talked.
“Dr. Friedman told us that at the time of the crime, Fred Brinkley was in a psychotic, delusional state. He was suffering from a mental disease or defect that prevented him from conforming his conduct to the laws of society. That’s the definition of legal insanity.
“This is not a lawyer-created illness,” Sherman said. He walked two paces to the defense table and picked up a heavy hardcover book.
“This is the DSM-IV, the diagnostic bible of the psychiatric profession. You’ll have it with you in the deliberation room so that you can read that schizoaffective disorder is a psychosis — a severe mental illness that drives the actions of the person who has it.
“My client is not admirable,” he said. “We’re not trying to pin a medal on him. But Fred Brinkley is not a criminal, and nothing in his past suggests otherwise. His conduct yesterday demonstrated his illness. What sane man asks the jury to have him put to death?”
Sherman went back to the defense table, put down the book, and sipped from his water glass before returning to the lectern.
“The evidence of insanity is overwhelming in this case. Fred Brinkley did not kill for love or hate or money or thrills. He is not evil. He’s sick. And I’m asking you today to do the only fair thing.
“Find Fred Brinkley ‘not guilty’ by reason of insanity.
“And trust the system to keep the citizens safe from this man.”
Chapter 122
“IT’S TOO BAD you guys didn’t catch Yuki’s close,” Cindy said, putting an affectionate arm around Yuki, beaming across the table at Claire and myself. “It was killer.”
“This would be your impartial journalistic point of view?” Yuki asked, coloring a little but smiling as she tucked her hair behind her ears.
“Hell, no.” Cindy laughed. “This is me speaking. Off the record.”
We were at MacBain’s, across from the Hall, all four of us with our cell phones on the table. Sydney MacBain, our waitress and the owner’s daughter, brought four glasses and two tall bottles of mineral water.
“Water, water, everywhere,” Syd said. “What’s up, ladies? This is a bar, ya know what I mean?”
I answered by pointing at each of us. “It’s like this, Syd. Working. Working. Working.” I pointed to Claire and said, “Pregnant and working.”
Sydney laughed, congratulated Claire, took our orders, and headed to the kitchen.
“So does he hear voices?” I asked Yuki.
“Maybe. But a lot of people hear voices. Five to ten thousand in San Francisco alone. Probably a couple of them here in this bar. Don’t see any of them shooting the place up. Fred Brinkley might very well hear voices. But that day? He knew what he was doing was wrong.”
“The bastard,” said Claire. “That’s me, speaking on the record as a very biased eyewitness and victim.”
That day flooded back to me with sickening clarity —the blood-slicked deck and the screaming passengers and how scared I was that Claire might die. I remembered hugging Willie and thanking God that Brinkley’s last shot had missed him.
I asked Yuki, “You think the jury will vote to convict?”
“I dunno. They damn well should. If anyone deserves the needle, it’s him,” Yuki said as she vigorously salted her french fries, her hair swinging freely in front of her face so that none of us could read her eyes.
Chapter 123
IT WAS AFTER TWO IN THE AFTERNOON, day three since the jury had begun their deliberation, when Yuki got the call. A shock went through her.
This was it.
She sat rigid in her seat for a moment, just blinking. Then she snapped out of it.
She paged Leonard and speed-dialed Claire, Cindy, and Lindsay, all of whom were within minutes of the courtroom. She got up from her desk, crossed the hall, and leaned into David’s cubicle.
