insanity defense, not once. For damn sure, I haven’t even thought
about it since that time. Tell me what we’re in for.”
They picked their way through the
northbound traffic on Broadway to the thirty foot esplanade in the middle of
the street and waited for traffic to clear the southbound lanes.
“The insanity defense is probably the
toughest thing to win in the entire Texas criminal justice system,” Duke began.
“You remember Andrea Yates, the mother who drowned her five babies a while back.
Nobody in their right mind would think that a mama could do that and be found
sane. Still, the state paid a high-priced, smooth-talking forensic psychiatrist
to testify that she was sane and she was convicted. That jury was so convinced
that she probably would have been sent to death row if the shrink wasn’t caught
in a lie while the jury was deliberating her punishment. Turned out he lied, or
as the appellate courts called it, gave false testimony about an episode of Law and Order. The jury was apprised of
the change in testimony and just sent her away to life in prison.
“Now, if that decision doesn’t serve
to indict the whole system, not long after that a woman named Deanna Laney in
Tyler stoned her children to death. That same shrink from the Yates case was
hired by Laney’s lawyers to testify that she was insane and the jury agreed. Sent
her to a mental institution.”
The traffic cleared momentarily and
the two men darted between an old green pickup filled with Hispanic workers and
a shiny red Mustang convertible occupied by two blond teenagers with surfboards
sticking out from the back seat. When they stepped on the curb, Wayne said,
“Yeah. I remember reading about both of those cases. No damn way both of those
cases can be reconciled. Doesn’t make our criminal justice system look worth a
shit.”
“You got that right. A lot of states
were beginning to get a better understanding of insanity. Then John Hinckley
came along and screwed everything up. After he shot President Reagan, we went
back to the old test, called the McNaughton Rule.”
“That rings a bell way off in the
distance from my criminal law classes in law school,” Wayne said as they walked
along Broadway and turned between two white columns to enter the cemetery.
Duke wanted to finish his lecture and added, “Now,
the defendant has to show that because of severe mental disease, the defendant
did not know his conduct was wrong. The idea that the defendant was so severely
ill that the disease kept him from controlling himself is gone.”
“Bro, I want to continue this
discussion. Only now let me show you a little history. There’s a reason this is
called the Old City Cemetery. Take a look at some of these headstones.”
They walked down a narrow gravel path
with granite grave markers on either side. Some had fresh flowers. On others,
flowers had died weeks ago and no one bothered to pitch them. Some were covered
only with weeds. Every ten yards or so they would find themselves in front of a
family mausoleum, listing the names of various family members who found their
last resting place inside.
“The island was settled by immigrants
and adventurers. A lot of them were born in Europe and made their way to the
Texas gulf coast, a long way from home and family. “Look here.” Wayne pointed
to a marker: Robert John Hofsted, Born in
Austria December, 22, 1808, Died December 14, 1885.
“How about this one,” Duke said. “This
woman was born in Yorkshire, England in 1851 and died on the island in 1930.”
“I spent a lot of time in here when I
was a kid. Never was a scary experience. It was always just a history lesson
for me. Look at the size of this mausoleum.” Wayne pointed to one that was at
least twenty feet tall and fifteen feet across with “R. Ruzzuno Family” carved
over the entry.
Duke had stepped over a couple of
graves and stood in front of one headstone that read, William Van Winckle. He was a gallant soldier under
about it since that time. Tell me what we’re in for.”
They picked their way through the
northbound traffic on Broadway to the thirty foot esplanade in the middle of
the street and waited for traffic to clear the southbound lanes.
“The insanity defense is probably the
toughest thing to win in the entire Texas criminal justice system,” Duke began.
“You remember Andrea Yates, the mother who drowned her five babies a while back.
Nobody in their right mind would think that a mama could do that and be found
sane. Still, the state paid a high-priced, smooth-talking forensic psychiatrist
to testify that she was sane and she was convicted. That jury was so convinced
that she probably would have been sent to death row if the shrink wasn’t caught
in a lie while the jury was deliberating her punishment. Turned out he lied, or
as the appellate courts called it, gave false testimony about an episode of Law and Order. The jury was apprised of
the change in testimony and just sent her away to life in prison.
“Now, if that decision doesn’t serve
to indict the whole system, not long after that a woman named Deanna Laney in
Tyler stoned her children to death. That same shrink from the Yates case was
hired by Laney’s lawyers to testify that she was insane and the jury agreed. Sent
her to a mental institution.”
The traffic cleared momentarily and
the two men darted between an old green pickup filled with Hispanic workers and
a shiny red Mustang convertible occupied by two blond teenagers with surfboards
sticking out from the back seat. When they stepped on the curb, Wayne said,
“Yeah. I remember reading about both of those cases. No damn way both of those
cases can be reconciled. Doesn’t make our criminal justice system look worth a
shit.”
“You got that right. A lot of states
were beginning to get a better understanding of insanity. Then John Hinckley
came along and screwed everything up. After he shot President Reagan, we went
back to the old test, called the McNaughton Rule.”
“That rings a bell way off in the
distance from my criminal law classes in law school,” Wayne said as they walked
along Broadway and turned between two white columns to enter the cemetery.
Duke wanted to finish his lecture and added, “Now,
the defendant has to show that because of severe mental disease, the defendant
did not know his conduct was wrong. The idea that the defendant was so severely
ill that the disease kept him from controlling himself is gone.”
“Bro, I want to continue this
discussion. Only now let me show you a little history. There’s a reason this is
called the Old City Cemetery. Take a look at some of these headstones.”
They walked down a narrow gravel path
with granite grave markers on either side. Some had fresh flowers. On others,
flowers had died weeks ago and no one bothered to pitch them. Some were covered
only with weeds. Every ten yards or so they would find themselves in front of a
family mausoleum, listing the names of various family members who found their
last resting place inside.
“The island was settled by immigrants
and adventurers. A lot of them were born in Europe and made their way to the
Texas gulf coast, a long way from home and family. “Look here.” Wayne pointed
to a marker: Robert John Hofsted, Born in
Austria December, 22, 1808, Died December 14, 1885.
“How about this one,” Duke said. “This
woman was born in Yorkshire, England in 1851 and died on the island in 1930.”
“I spent a lot of time in here when I
was a kid. Never was a scary experience. It was always just a history lesson
for me. Look at the size of this mausoleum.” Wayne pointed to one that was at
least twenty feet tall and fifteen feet across with “R. Ruzzuno Family” carved
over the entry.
Duke had stepped over a couple of
graves and stood in front of one headstone that read, William Van Winckle. He was a gallant soldier under
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