The Meat Grinder of Justice - Alternative Reality II

The trial dragged on for an eternity. Attorneys were called to the sidebar for discussion at various lengths of time. During the short sidebars, the Bailiff chatted it up with other officers and the court stenographer. It was the same as minor as a drunk in public… a show of dignity as thin as the strings on a stripper’s thong. I sat next to Walter White Bear Gibbons as he laid out a case for my insanity. He brought in Psychiatrists and specialists in traumatic head injury, PTSD, and called witnesses confirming my alcoholism. Friends… I thought they were friends… had been rallied against me. I knew that if I wasn’t insane I would surely be driven there. Ryan took the stand as a sympathetic witness but testified that I stole his boat under cross examination.

The Prosecution called Anna to the stand I broke down. I didn’t rape her… I never had sex with her… consensual, or not.

I upturned the table, shouting, “Anna, why are you lying!”

I was shackled and carried out. It was a bad dream… a very bad dream.

I had to have a restraint chair the next couple days.

One bubble-headed psychiatrist testified about PTSD. During the cross examination, he was asked by White Bear, “Have you ever served in the military?”

Dr. Bubble-Head objected, “… that doesn’t have any effect on the science.”

“Have you ever served in the military? A yes or no answer would be sufficient.” White Bear insisted.

“Uh, no.”

Amanda stood, “Objection. The question is irrelevant.”

“Objection denied.”

“So, you have no personal experience with PTSD or, the context within which one can be inflicted with the syndrome?”

“Objection, your honor, that is a leading question and not relevant.”

“Objection sustained.”

Back and forth on each item… one by one the prosecution would bring up another aspect of my character and crime while the Defense countered. I had, (on the bus, to and from the court house and County Jail), a separate, caged-in, front seat reserved for sex offenders and snitches. Other inmates chattered low, if a new guy asked, “Who’s he?” 
All of them seemed to know I was accused of being charged with murder and rape. Murder would’ve given me status but rape was another story. It was accepted that rape is often a case of false accusations but it is still very low on the social standings within the institutional-pale-green walls of prisons and jails.

I was exhausted and phased out the procedure. This went on for weeks. I lost track of where it was going. Urchin divers found the body of the Goon at Santa Cruz Island. .45 caliber bullets and shell casings from the Mac-10 were collected by the coroner but it couldn’t be determined that I shot him because no Mac-10 was found. Mr. Risner, who swam ashore, testified that Anna was present but too doped up to do anything and that I’d done all the shooting. It was argued that any testimony about who shot what was hearsay as Mr. Risner was on another part of the boat. 
   I interrupted the court once more by shouting at Risner, “I didn’t shoot anyone! You can’t admit being out-gunned by a woman!”

I was put back in a restraint chair again. Anna wasn’t in the courtroom to hear me brag her up.

The Sherlock was discovered later by divers in the deep near the Island. The Doctor’s Dream was still being searched for, but not found, as it went down beyond the continental shelf off Avila Beach.

Doctor Lawrence Spawn was called as a witness too. He claimed I kept him dosed on heroin and I tortured and brainwashed him using LSD. That there was no Bird Dog in Gabe’s shed. He told a tale of Russian mob figure and the Bird Dog, a CIA contractor, was Bull Shit. Casey and Gabe weren’t alive to testify on my behalf.

Smerdyakov, and Bird Dog were delusions… figments of my imagination. I gave up. There was no fighting it. I couldn’t determine whether Gibbons, believed whether what I'd told him had happened but he seemed to be making the best out of a bad situation. He did call in another psychiatrist to testify for the defense. They went back and forth on the subject of PTSD too. The prosecuting attorney, Amanda Barron, insisted the psychiatrist speak in common terms understandable to the laity.

Amanda cross-examined, “Doctor, does long-term exposure to combat cause blackouts and flashbacks.”

“Yes.”

“Will you describe for the court the characteristics of these blackouts and flashbacks?”

“Characteristic?”

“What usually happens in the mind of the Veteran?”

“These can be, but not in all cases, temporary or sporadic. The patients feel as though they are in the moment of the trauma… that they are under attack.”

“Is it common for them to react with violence?”

“It is rare but it happens.”

“Using a clinical, subjective measure, can you rate events of this nature on a scale of one to ten? Ten being the most violent on every occasion and one would be once in a lifetime, if ever, occurring?”

“Yes, I would say, one. That is, erupting in violence. Though sensational in the media, violence is so rare it is hard to measure in the typical shorthand of one to ten.”

“How often would you say these occur long term; say, a flashback that endures for several months.”

“Clinical studies show that intermittent flashbacks can last a lifetime. Extreme cases, long term, the veteran suffers what was once called combat fatigue or shell-shock. These are cases where the patient never recovers and constantly relives the trauma to the degree of psychological paralyses. But, it is most common for veterans to act out against themselves and are not violent to others. Suicide, or suicide via alcoholism, drug addiction, often results in broken relationships with marriage, family and friends, affects the majority of those who suffer from PTSD.”

“Are there any cases, like Mr. Kraszhinski’s, in which the patient for several days, weeks, or months, acted out against others in a continuous, cohesive, delusional, and violent behavior such as kidnapping, rape and murder, due to combat fatigue?”

White Bear flew off his chair, “Objection. This is a text book leading question, and, for the record, you have allowed a series of leading questions in this courtroom, your honor.”

The judge called a recess and, after reconvening, he instructed the court stenographer, “Strike the prosecutors question and defense attorney’s response from the record. The prosecutor will rephrase the question.”

Amanda plugged away at it, “How often have studies confirmed, or have you witnessed, cohesive, long-term violent, and delusional behavior witnessed that is similar to Mr. Kraszhinski’s case?”

“I’m unfamiliar with such studies if they exist at all. But, I can understand that, once the delusional premise is accepted, there can be prolonged sympathetic follow-up. This can explain the proclivity to adhere to conspiracy theories trying to make sense of the veteran’s disorder.”

“Would this then be a case of paranoid schizophrenia?”

“That’s a general term but it is a more precise delusion.”

The defense brought up the Bird Dog. It seems he didn’t exist. When it was contested about how I got the Bullpup rifle that killed the two crawdad fishermen, the prosecution proposed during the summery that I might have stashed it previously in Benicia.

Days were spent examining question, and cross-examining, questions and answers about the trip to Benicia… about my relationships with Gab, with Casey, with Doctor Lawrence Spawn… and, of course, my Anna.

I fell asleep several times during the trial. I believe my food was spiked with a sedative and it didn’t help that trials are an endurance ordeal that takes days sometimes to sort out the minutia of legalese between attorneys. I suspect that leading questions are often asked, knowing full well the objections will be sustained to color the perception of the jury even though the jury is directed to ignore and not allow them in their deliberations. By the time the trial was over and they were done with me the meat-grinder of justice won another one. I believe it is harder for an innocent man to jump through the hoops of the law than it is for someone locked in the system as a lifelong history of criminality.