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“What did you do?”

“Told them to get lost.”

“What did they do?”

“They kept hassling me. They had the papers, and I had to go with them.”

“Papers? What papers?”

Walsh shrugged. “I assume they meant commitment papers. One guy waved a paper at me, but he didn’t say what it was. They had the papers, and I had to go.”

“So what did you do?”

“I told him what he could do with his papers.”

Judge Washburn smiled slightly. “And what did they do?”

“When they saw I wasn’t going to cooperate, they started circling me sort of. Then they jumped me, grabbed me, wrestled me to the ground. One guy held me while the other guy got a straightjacket on me.”

“Did you protest?”

“What, are you nuts? I screamed and kicked and yelled bloody murder.”

“What happened to the other man? The man you were talking to?”

“He ran.” Walsh shrugged. “I can’t say that I blame him. For all he knew, they were after him too.”

“What happened then?”

“They dragged me out of the station, threw me in a van and ran me down to Bellevue.”

“What happened there?”

“They wrestled me inside where some lunatic in a white coat with a clipboard came up and started screaming proverbs in my face. Frankly, by that time I was slightly incoherent. As I recall, I made a few choice remarks about his hospital, his proverbs, and his parentage, as well as a few suggestions involving certain choice portions of his anatomy.”

“What happened then?”

“They locked me in a room, shot me full of drugs.”

“What kind of drugs?”

“You think they told me? It was all ‘there, there,’ and ‘this is for your own good.’”

“Did you object to taking the drugs?”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t swallow nothing. When they tried to stick me, I broke the needle.”

“Then how’d they get you to take them?”

“Two guys held me, one guy stuck me.”

“How often did they give you drugs?”

“Whenever they damn well felt like it.”

“Could you be more specific?”

“No, I couldn’t. It’s hard to tell time when you’re doped up and locked in a room. Besides, sometimes the drugs would knock me out. All I know is, as soon as I wake up they come in and stick me again.

“Once I woke up and they were trying to shave me. They tried when I was awake and I wouldn’t let ‘em do it, so they tried when I was asleep.”

Judge Washburn looked at him. “They don’t seem to have succeeded.”

“No, they didn’t. I woke up, screamed, flailed my arm, broke the damn electric razor. After that they gave up trying.”

“Why do you object to shaving?”

“I don’t object to shaving. I object to being shaved. Big difference. I object on principle to anything being done to me against my will. If you can’t understand that, there’s no point in this hearing.”

“I didn’t say I can’t understand that, Mr. Walsh. I just want to get your point of view.”

“You got it. What else you want to know?”

Jack Walsh was so swift on the returns Judge Washburn was momentarily taken aback. He took a few seconds to gather himself. “Well now,” he said. “As you understand, this is a competency hearing. Certain allegations have been made to the effect that you’re not competent to handle your affairs. This hearing is for the purpose of determining whether these allegations are true. Now, as part of these allegations, I have heard testimony from certain witnesses regarding your behavior. Behavior which, if taken at face value, could be construed not to be the acts of a rational man. We have the testimony of two of your relatives …” Judge Washburn referred to his notes. “… Mr. Jason Tindel and Mr. Fred Grayson, to the effect that recently you sold your house out from under you, that you have no fixed address, and that you have taken to living on the subway in the manner of an indigent, when in fact you actually have ample funds to live anywhere you wish.

“Now, I’d like to give you an opportunity to reply to these allegations. So I ask you, are the allegations of your relatives true?”

Jack Walsh scowled. He squinted up at the judge. “You keep calling them my relatives. Jason Tindel and Fred Grayson happened to marry into the family. I don’t see that that makes them kinfolk, somehow.”

“Very well,” Judge Washburn said. “Your in-laws, then. How’s that?”

“Fine. In-law is where we are, and what this is all about. I quite approve.” Jack Walsh punctuated this by nodding in agreement with himself.

Judge Washburn frowned and took a breath.

Steve Winslow stirred restlessly. Jack Walsh was making no effort to answer the question. Instead he was engaging in various evasions and deflections. In short, acting like a man with something to hide.

Judge Washburn cleared his throat. His voice took on a slightly insistent tone. “Mr. Walsh, what reason would your in-laws have for making these statements?”

“Because they’re stupid.”

Judge Washburn frowned. “That’s hardly a complete answer.”

“Also because they’re greedy.” Walsh nodded judiciously. “Yeah. Greedy and stupid. That about covers it.”

Judge Washburn exhaled. “Mr. Walsh-”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Walsh said. “I have to prove I’m sane. Funny, isn’t it? If I were charged with a crime I’d be presumed innocent until proven guilty. Here it’s the other way around. Some guy says I’m crazy, and the burden of proof is on me to prove I’m sane.” Walsh squinted up at the judge. “Something a little wrong with that, isn’t there?”

“Mr. Walsh, that is not exactly the case-”

“It’s close enough. You’ll pardon me if I don’t take kindly to it. Understand, I have no contempt of court. I do have a certain amount of contempt for my in-laws.”

“I understand, Mr. Walsh. Still, I am the judge, and I have to make my ruling. Now that may be unfair, but it happens to be the law. So any way you can assist me in doing it, I would appreciate. Now, with regard to the specific allegations: it has been stated that recently you sold the house in which you were living out from under yourself. Is that true?”

Walsh nodded. “Yes. And out from under my relatives. That’s what really set them off.” Walsh looked up at the judge. “I suppose you’d like me to tell you why?”

“That would help.”

“Right. I have to justify my actions. They don’t have to justify theirs.”

Steve Winslow shifted in his seat, started to get up. He thought better of it. Nothing he could do at this point was going to help. Jack Walsh was going to have to sink or swim by himself.

Judge Washburn took a breath. “I think I stated my position, Mr. Walsh. At any rate, this is your opportunity to explain. If you care to do so.”

Walsh nodded. “Yeah, I care to do so. O.K. Here’s the story. My relatives, I’m sorry to say, are a rather shiftless lot. Particularly my in-laws. I don’t want to bore you with specifics, but the fact is, there isn’t a wage-earner among ‘em. In a way it’s my fault-they’ve always had me to lean on. They lived in my house, ate my food. Why the hell should they work?

“Only lately it got worse. In the last year. Suggestions started cropping up. I was getting old. I wasn’t going to live forever. Inheritance taxes were astronomical. Wouldn’t it be nice to get around some of them? How? By making certain gifts during my lifetime. Suggestions of that kind.

“Well, needless to say, I didn’t take kindly to such suggestions. I didn’t make any big deal about it, I just ignored ‘em. But they got more and more persistent.

“Then they stopped talking altogether. That was somewhat strange. I wondered why.

“Then one day I overheard Jason and Fred talking. You know what they were talking about?” Walsh spread his arms wide. “Just what we’re doin’ here. Declaring me incompetent and grabbin’ the cash.

“Well, pardon me, Your Honor, but that was the last straw. I did not need people living in my own house who were plotting against me to get my money. As far as I was concerned, that was beyond all bounds. I confronted them, and told them they could get out.”