Tell Me Your Dreams

Silence.

"Toni..."

Nothing.

Dr. Salem said, "She's gone. I'd like to wake Ashley up."

David sighed. "All right."

A few minutes later, Ashley was opening her eyes.

"How do you feel?" David asked.

"Tired. Did it...did it go all right?"

"Yes. We talked to Alette and Toni. They - "

"I don't want to know."

"All right. Why don't you go rest now, Ashley? I'll be back to see you this afternoon."

They watched a female jailer lead her away.

Dr. Salem said, "You have to put her on the stand, David. That will convince any jury in the world that - "

"I've given it a lot of thought," David said. "I don't think I can."

Dr. Salem looked at him a moment. "Why not?"

"Brennan, the prosecuting attorney, is a killer. He would tear her apart can't take that chance."

David and Sandra were having dinner with the Quillers two days before the preliminaries of the trial were to begin.

"We've checked into the Wyndham Hotel," David said. "The manager did me a special favor. Sandra's coming down with me. The town is crowded beyond belief."

"And if it's that bad now," Emily said, "imagine what it's going to be like when the trial starts."

Quiller looked at David. "Anything can do to help?"

David shook his head. "I have a big decision to make. Whether to put Ashley on the stand or not."

"It's a tough call," Jesse Quiller said. "You're damned if you do and damned if you don't. The problem is that Brennan is going to build Ashley Patterson up as a sadistic, murdering monster. If you don't put her on the stand, that's the image the jurors will carry in then-minds when they go into the jury room to reach a verdict. On the other hand, from what you tell me, if you do put Ashley on the stand, Brennan can destroy her."

"Brennan's going to have all his medical experts there to discredit multiple personality disorder."

"You've got to convince them that it's real."

"And I intend to," David said. "Do you know what bothers me, Jesse? The jokes. The latest one going around is that wanted to ask for a change of venue, but decided not to because there are no places left where Ashley hasn't murdered someone. Do you remember when Johnny Carson was on television? He was funny and he always remained a gentleman. Now, the hosts on the late-night shows are all malicious. Then-humor at the expense of other people is savage."

"David?"

"Yes."

Jesse Quiller said quietly, "It's going to get worse."

David Singer was unable to sleep the night before he was to go into court. He could not stem the negative thoughts swirling through his head. When he finally fell asleep, he heard a voice saying. You let your last client die. What if you let this one die?

He sat up in bed, bathed in perspiration.

Sandra opened her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. No. What the hell am I doing here? All I had to do was say no to Dr. Patterson."

Sandra squeezed his aim and said softly, "Why didn't you?"

He grunted. "You're right. I couldn't."

"All right then. Now, how about getting some sleep so you'll be nice and fresh in the morning?"

"Great idea."

He was awake the rest of the night.

Judge Williams had been correct about the media. The reporters were relentless. Journalists were swarming in from around the world, avid to cover the story of a beautiful young woman being tried as a serial killer who sexually mutilated her victims.

The fact that Mickey Brennan was forbidden to bring the names of Jim Cleary or Jean Claude Parent into the trial had been frustrating, but the media had solved the problem for him. Television talk shows, magazines and newspapers all carried lurid stories of the five murders and castrations. Mickey Brennan was pleased.

When David arrived at the courtroom, the press was out in full force. David was besieged.

"Mr. Singer, are you still employed by Kincaid, Turner, Rose & Ripley...?"

"Look this way, Mr. Singer...."

"Is it true you were fired for taking this case...?"

"Can you tell us about Helen Woodman? Didn't you handle her murder trial...?"

"Did Ashley Patterson say why she did it...?"

"Are you going to put your client on the stand...?"

"No comment," David said curtly.

When Mickey Brennan drove up to the courthouse, he was instantly surrounded by the media.

"Mr. Brennan, how do you think the trial is going to go...?"

"Have you ever tried an alter ego defense before...?" Brennan smiled genially. "No. I can't wait to talk to all the defendants." He got the laugh that he wanted. "If there are enough of them, they can have their own ball club." Another laugh. "I've got to get inside. I don't want to keep any of the defendants waiting."

The voir dire started with Judge Williams asking general questions of the potential jurors. When she had finished, it was the defense's turn and then the prosecution's.

To laymen, the selection of a jury seems simple: Choose the prospective juror who seemed friendly and dismiss the others. In fact, voir dire was a carefully planned ritual. Skilled trial lawyers did not ask direct questions that would bring yes or no answers. They asked general questions that would encourage the jurors to talk and reveal something of themselves and their true feelings.

Mickey Brennan and David Singer had different agendas. In this case, Brennan wanted a preponderance of men on the jury, men who would be disgusted and shocked at the idea of a woman stabbing and castrating her victims. Brennan's questions were meant to pinpoint people who were traditional in their thinking, who would be less likely to believe in spirits and goblins and people who claimed they were inhabited by alters. David took the opposite approach.

"Mr. Harris, is it? I'm David Singer. I'm representing the defendant. Have you ever served on a jury before, Mr. Hams?"

"No."

"I appreciate your taking the time and trouble to do this."

"It should be interesting, a big murder trial like this."

"Yes. I think it will be."

"In fact, I've been looking forward to it."

"Have you?"

"Yeah."

"Where do you work, Mr. Hams?"

"At United Steel."

"I imagine you and your fellow workers have talked about the Patterson case."

"Yes. As a matter of fact, we have."

David said, "That's understandable. Everyone seems to be talking about it. What's the general opinion? Do your fellow workers think Ashley Patterson is guilty?"

"Yeah. I have to say they do."

"And do you think so?"

"Well, it sure looks like it."

"But you're willing to listen to the evidence before making up your mind?"

"Yeah. I'll listen to it."

"What do you like to read, Mr. Hams?"

"I'm not a big reader. I like to camp out and hunt and fish."

"An outdoorsman. When you're camping out at night and you look at the stars, do you ever wonder if there are other civilizations up there?"

"You mean that crazy UFO stuff? I don't believe in all that nonsense."

David turned to Judge Williams. "Pass for cause, Your Honor."

Another juror interrogation:

"What do you like to do in your spare time, Mr. Alien?"

"Well, I like to read and watch television."

"I like to do the same things. What do you watch on television?"

"There's some great shows on Thursday nights. It's hard to choose. The damn networks put all the good shows on at the same time."

"You're right. It's a shame. Do you ever watch the X-Files?'

"Yeah. My kids love it."

"What about Sabrina, the Teenage Witch?"

"Yeah. We watch that. That's a good show."

"What do you like to read?"

"Anne Rice, Stephen King..."

Yes.

*   *   *

Another juror interrogation:

"What do you like to watch on television, Mr. Mayer?"

"Sixty Minutes, the News Hour with Jim Lehrer, documentaries..."

"What do you like to read?"

"Mainly history and political books."

"Thank you."

No.

Judge Tessa Williams sat on the bench, listening to the questioning, her face betraying nothing. But David could feel her disapproval every time she looked at him.

When the last juror was finally selected, the panel consisted of seven men and five women. Brennan glanced at David triumphantly. This is going to be a slaughter.