Dodged the bullet there, he thought.
Ringling dismissed the man, seemingly convinced that the testimony had somehow worked to the defense’s advantage.
This concluded the formal presentations in the case and it was now time for closing statements.
Hollow had been writing his mentally even as he’d fled the courthouse yesterday, in search of Pheder’s phone number.
The slim, austere man walked to the front of the jury box and, a concession to camaraderie with the panel, undid his suit jacket’s middle button, which he usually kept snugly hooked.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I’m going to make my comments brief, out of respect to you and respect to the poor victim and her family. They-and Annabelle Young’s spirit-want and deserve justice, and the sooner you provide that justice, the better for everyone.
“The diligent law officers involved in this case have established beyond a reasonable doubt that Martin Kobel was, in fact, the individual who viciously and without remorse stabbed to death a young, vibrant schoolteacher; widow; and single mother, after stalking her for a week, following her all the way from Raleigh, spying on her, and causing her to flee from a restaurant while she waited to meet her son after school. Those facts are not in dispute. Nor is there any doubt about the validity of Mr. Kobel’s confession, which he gave freely and after being informed of his rights. And which he repeated here in front of you.
“The only issue in this case is whether or not the defendant was insane at the time he committed this heinous crime. Now, in order for the defendant to be found not guilty by reason of insanity, it must-I repeat, must-be proven that he did not appreciate the difference between right and wrong at the time he killed Annabelle. It must be proven that he did not understand reality as you and I know it.
“You have heard the defendant claim he killed Annabelle Young because she was infected by forces called nemes. Let’s think on that for a moment. Had Mr. Kobel been convinced that she was possessed by aliens from outer space or zombies or vampires, maybe that argument would have some validity. But that’s not what he’s claiming. He’s basically saying that she was infected by what he himself described as a virus…not one that gives you a fever and chills but one that makes you do something bad.”
A smile. “I have to tell you, when I first heard this theory, I thought to myself, brother, that’s pretty crazy. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if there wasn’t something to it. And in the course of this trial, listening to Mr. Kobel and Dr. Pheder and spending all last night reading through Mr. Kobel’s lengthy writing, I’ve changed my mind…I too now believe in nemes.”
The gasp throughout the courtroom was loud.
“I’m convinced that Martin Kobel is right. Nemes exist. Think about it, ladies and gentlemen: what else can explain the random acts of violence and abuse and rage we find in people who were previously incapable of them.”
Yes…some of the jurors were actually nodding. They were with him!
Hollow’s voice rose. “Think about it! Disembodied forces of energy that affect us. We can’t see them but doesn’t the moon’s gravitation affect us? Doesn’t radiation affect us? We can’t see them either. These nemes are the perfect explanation for behaviors we otherwise would find impossible to understand.
“There was a time when the concept of flight by airplane would have been considered sorcery. The same with GPS. The same with modern medical treatments. The same with lightbulbs, computers, thousands of products that we now know are rooted in scientific fact but when first conceived would seem like black magic.”
Hollow walked close to the rapt members of the jury. “But…but…if that’s the case, if nemes exist, as Mr. Kobel and I believe, then that means they’re part of the real world. They are part of our society, our connection with one another, for good or for bad. Then to say that Annabelle Young was infected with one is exactly the same as saying that she had a case of the flu and might infect other people. Some of those infected people, the elderly or young, could die. Which would be a shame, tragic…But does that mean it would be all right to preemptively murder her to save those people? Emphatically no! That’s not the way the world works, ladies and gentlemen. If, as I now believe, Annabelle Young was affected by these nemes, then as a trained professional, Martin Kobel’s responsibility was to get her into treatment and help her. Help her, ladies and gentlemen. Not murder her.
“Please, honor the memory of Annabelle Young. Honor the institution of law. Honor personal responsibility. Find the defendant in this case sane. And find him guilty of murder in the first degree for taking the life of a young woman whose only flaw was to be sick, and whose only chance to get well and live a content and happy and productive life was snatched from her grasp by a vicious killer. Thank you.”
His heart pounding, Glenn Hollow strode to the prosecution table through an utterly quiet courtroom, aware that everyone was staring at him.
He sat. Still, no voices, no rustling. Nothing. Pin-drop time.
After what seemed like an hour, though it was probably only thirty seconds, Bob Ringling rose, cleared his throat, and delivered his closing statement. Hollow didn’t pay much attention. And it seemed no one else did either. Every soul in the courtroom was staring at Glenn Hollow, and, the prosecutor believed, replaying in their minds what was the most articulate and dramatic closing argument he’d ever made. Turning the whole case on its ear at the last minute.
If, as I now believe, Annabelle Young was affected by these nemes, then as a trained professional, Martin Kobel’s responsibility was to get her into treatment and help her. Help her, ladies and gentlemen. Not murder her.
Glenn Hollow was inherently a modest man but he couldn’t help but believe he’d pulled off the coup of his career.
And so it was a surprise, to say the least, when the good men and woman on the jury panel rejected Hollow’s argument completely and came back with a verdict finding Martin Kobel not guilty by reason of insanity after one of the shortest deliberations in Wetherby County history.
Three
I AVOIDED THE SUNROOM as much as I could.
Mostly because it was full of crazy people. Lip-chewing, Haldol-popping, delusional crazies. They smelled bad, they ate like pigs at a trough, they screamed, they wore football helmets so they didn’t do any more damage to their heads. As if that were possible. At my trial I was worried that I was overacting the schizo part. I shouldn’t have worried. My performance in the courtroom didn’t come close to being over the top.
The Butler State Hospital doesn’t include the words “for the criminally insane” in the name because it doesn’t need to. Anybody who sees the place will get the idea pretty fast.
The sunroom was a place to avoid. But I’d come to enjoy the small library and this was where I’d spent most of my time in the past two months since I was committed here.
Today I was sitting in the library’s one armchair, near the one window. I usually vie for the chair with a skinny patient, Jack. The man was committed because he suspected his wife of selling his secrets to the Union army-which would’ve been funny except that as punishment for her crime he tortured her for six hours before killing and dismembering her.
Jack was a curious man. Smart in some ways and a true expert on Civil War history. But he’d never quite figured out the rules of the game: that whoever got into the library first got the armchair.
I’d been looking forward to sitting here today and catching up on my reading.
But then something happened to disrupt those plans. I opened this morning’s paper and noticed a reference to the prosecutor in the case against me, Glenn Hollow, whose name, I joked with my attorney Bob Ringling, sounded like a real estate development. Alarming Ringling somewhat since I wasn’t sounding as crazy as he would have liked-because, of course, I’m not.