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.Agreed?”“Yeah, okay.”“What about a pair of pants and a shirt?”“Clothes.”“How about a bicycle and an airplane?”“Shit you get around in.I mean vehicles.Or not vehicles, but like—transportation.Right?”“That’s fine.How about a fly and a tree?”“A fly and a tree? Things that got leaves—no.I don’t know.I don’t know that one.”“That’s fine.If I say don’t cry over spilled milk, what does that mean?” On the notepad, he wrote fly + tree = leaves?“It means the past’s in the past and there’s no use getting all het up over it.”“How about: People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”“It’s when people who are involved in bad shit, they shouldn’t go round accusing others of—whatever.It’s like—hypocritical, right?”“That’s fine,” said Strickland, writing vocabulary!? “How about: If wishes were wings, pigs would fly.”“No.Never heard that before.”“That’s why I gave it to you.”“Ha!” Mike gave a sly grin.“Okay, well, I guess it’s like if—a person can get what he wants if he wants it bad enough.”“Not bad,” said Strickland, capping the pen and putting the notepad aside.“That okay? I got it right?”“It doesn’t have one single interpretation.Very few people get that one.But your answer is not bad, not bad at all.”Mike settled back in his chair with a slight smile and looked around for his cigarette.Strickland walked Mike to his car.“What about a fly and a tree?,” Mike asked.“Life.”“Life? Motherfucker.”“See it now?”“Yeah, I see it.”“All right.”“Just … weird comparison, right?”“How so?”“Well, not weird.But I mean they’re pretty fucking vastly different.”“Well yes, but so are a bicycle and a plane.Vastly different.”Mike shook his head.“That’s for sure.”They reached the car.Mike stood looking down the street.“So that means I’m okay in the head?”Strickland pursed his lips.“That’s not a very clinical way of putting it.But yes.I think you’re probably okay in the head.”“That’s what you’ll tell them, then?”“Who?”“Whoever.The jury.The lawyers.Whoever.”“When’s your trial?”“Fuck knows.February something if they don’t change it again.”“Then let’s not put the cart ahead of the horse.You know that one?”Mike grinned and fingered his upper teeth.“Yeah, I know that one.”“Let’s meet again in four days.” Strickland glanced up at his house.“On your turf, this time.”“My turf?”“Your place.We still have a lot to talk about.”Q.You are not a forensic psychologist, are you, Professor.A.No.I admitted as much under Mr.Massick’s examination.Q.In fact this is your first time, as an expert witness.A.That’s correct.I believe I said as much.Q.Well, you’re doing just fine, Professor.You’re a natural.Let me be the first to say.A.Thank you, Ms.Lattimann.Melanie said, “And this is the guy you leave Ben alone with?”“Melanie,” said Martie.“What.”“You know what.Don’t interrupt.”“I gave him the abbreviated cognitive battery,” Strickland resumed.“Everything was within parameters—pretty normal,” he added for Melanie’s benefit.“His digit span—that’s his memory— was maybe a bit low for his IQ.Careful, this is hot.”“I don’t like yams,” said Ben.“Could indicate intrusion of emotional factors,” Martie said.“I thought of that.But the strange thing is, he didn’t strike me as overcontrolled.That is, he had no problem expressing his feelings.For the most part he was polite and obliging, eager to make a good impression of course, but he also sighed and grumbled at times, openly expressed his resentment about the court system, showed some bitterness on the TAT …”“Why is that a problem?,” Melanie asked.“That he has feelings.”“Normally, a case like this, where a guy blows up, goes berserk, with little or no provocation—well, you expect to see a history of bottling things up.”“So he just killed this guy for no reason? Great! So he’s crazy.”Martie said, “We don’t use that word, dear.And it’s a little more complicated than that.”“According to his statement to the police,” Strickland said, “the other guy’s group got seated first.”“So your client,” said Martie, “expressed his resentment.”Melanie guffawed.“By beating the guy to death!”“I don’t like yams,” said Ben [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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