just snapped in Carl Lee's mind. That's a very elementary way of putting it, but that's what happened. Something snapped. He broke with reality.
"They had to be killed. He told me once that when he first saw them in court, he could not understand why the deputies were protecting them. He kept waiting for one of the cops to pull a gun and blow their heads off. A few days went by and nobody killed them, so he figured it. was up to him. I mean, he felt as though someone in the system would execute the two for raping his little girl.
"What I'm saying, Mr. Brigance, is that, mentally, he left us. He was in another world. He was suffering from delusions. He broke."
Bass knew he was sounding good. He was talking to the jury now, not the lawyer.
"The day after the rape he spoke with his daughter in the hospital. She could barely talk, with the broken jaws and all, but she said she saw him in the woods running to save her, and she asked him why he disappeared. Now, can you
imagine what that would do to a father? She later told him she begged for her daddy, and the two men laughed at her and told her she didn't have a daddy."
Jake let those words sink in. He studied Ellen's outline and saw only two more questions.
"Now, Dr. Bass, based upon your observations of Carl Lee Hailey, and your diagnosis of his mental condition at the time of the shooting, do you have an opinion, to a reasonable degree of medical certainty, as to whether Carl Lee Hailey was capable of knowing the difference between right and wrong when he shot these men?"
"I have."
"And what is that opinion?"
"That due to his mental condition, he was totally incapable of distinguishing right from wrong."
"Do you have an opinion, based upon the same factors, as to whether Carl Lee Hailey was able to understand and appreciate the nature and quality of his actions?"
"I do."
"And what is that opinion?"
"In my opinion, as an expert in the field of psychiatry, Mr. Hailey was totally incapable of understanding and appreciating the nature and quality of what he was doing."
"Thank you, Doctor. I tender the witness."
Jake gathered his legal pad and strolled confidently back to his seat. He glanced at Lucien, who was smiling and nodding. He glanced at the jury. They were watching Bass and thinking about his testimony. Wanda Womack, a young woman with a sympathetic glow about her, looked at Jake and smiled ever so slightly. It was the first positive signal he received from the jury since the trial started.
"So far so good," Carl Lee whispered.
Jake smiled at his client. "You're a real psycho, big man."
"Any cross-examination?" Noose asked Buckley.
"Just a few questions," Buckley said as he grabbed the podium.
Jake could not imagine Buckley arguing psychiatry with an expert, even if it was W.T. Bass.
But Buckley had no plans to argue psychiatry. "Dr. Bass, what is your full name?"
Jake froze. The question had an ominous hint to it. Buckley asked it with a great deal of suspicion.
"William Tyler Bass."
"What do you go by?"
"W.T. Bass."
"Have you ever been known as Tyler Bass?"
The expert hesitated. "No," he said meekly.
An immense feeling of anxiety hit Jake and felt like a hot spear tearing into his stomach. The question could only mean trouble.
"Are you positive?" Buckley asked with raised eyebrows and an enormous amount of distrust in his voice.
Bass shrugged. "Maybe when I was younger."
"I see. Now, I believe you testified that you studied medicine at the University of Texas Health Science Center?"
"That's correct."
"And where is that?"
"Dallas."
"And when were you a student there?"
"From 1956 to 1960."
"And under what name were you registered?"
"William T. Bass."
Jake was numb with fear. Buckley had something, a dark secret from the past known only to Bass and himself.
"Did you ever use the name Tyler Bass while you were a medical student?"
"No."
"Are you positive?"
"I certainly am."
"What is your social security number?"
"410-96-8585."
Buckley made a check mark beside something on his legal pad.
"And what is your date of birth?" he asked carefully.
"September 14, 1934."
"And what was your mother's name?"
"Jonnie Elizabeth Bass."
"And her maiden name?"
"Skidmore."
Another check mark. Bass looked nervously at Jake.
"And your place of birth?"
"Carbondale, Illinois."
Another check mark.
An objection to the relevance of these questions was in order and sustainable, but Jake's knees were like Jell-O and his bowels were suddenly fluid. He feared he would embarrass himself if he stood and tried to speak.
Buckley studied his check marks and waited