The Psychiatrist

The Psychiatrist

By: Evelyn Currie

I closed my eyes, ignoring the loud courtroom around me. Smacking of a woman in the back’s gum chewing, fast typing of computer, closing, and opening of doors in the back of the already full room, clicking of photos being taken, yelling of lawyers arguing, banging of Judge Lewis’ gavel hitting the hollow wooden desk. How did I get there? How did one misstep cause me to be the one standing there awaiting death or life imprisonment? No matter what I chose, it was the end for me. So couldn’t I have given up instead of going down screaming? No, I couldn’t have. Because that wasn’t me. I heard the judge's raspy voice echo across the small courtroom “Silence!” He hollered. The whole room followed his instructions and went dead silent. “Miss. Davis, I will ask once more,” the Judge sighed in a strained but steady voice. “How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?” his voice faded slowly like he was on edge. I paused, still holding my eyes securely shut. His strained, groggy voice gave me the feeling he was tired, angry, annoyed, and possibly sad. The way his jaw moved very gently and seemed clenched even when he spoke was a curious realization. Though when he did speak normally his voice was slow and dull which was pretty normal for someone his age, but still, I knew something was wrong. He had a small wedding band on his right hand that was slightly rusted around the edges. Married for 30 years at least? He had bruises covered by a tattoo on the back of his same hand which I noticed immediately after. It was new, practically 4, no, 3 days old. “Gone But Never Forgotten” it read next to a small signature. I thought back more to the tattoo. “JLJ” the signature read. Was it short for “John Lewis Jr”, the judge's son? The judge was grieving, not tired, he seemed so gloomy. I leaned my back against my chair only to feel a soft vibration so I listened. A uniformed officer behind me was tapping her foot on the floor quickly, not normally though. It was like she had somewhere to be. Nevertheless, it wasn’t enough information to know for sure. Officer Howard had walked me in there so I must've seen more. I remembered the way she walked, with a small limp on her left side, and when I asked her what courtroom we were going to she responded angrily, like she was frustrated with a simple question. During the entire opening remarks I kept hearing her heartbeat in the silence and it was beating fast. But why was that? Was she nervous? Perhaps anxiety? No, that wouldn’t explain the limp. That's it, I thought. Pain meds, she was taking them for her knee but they were causing an addiction. She needed to see a doctor to get more and that is why she was checking her watch so often. I took a deep breath to try and refocus on the judge's question but I couldn’t. I took a big whiff of my lawyer, Maxwell Hartley’s cologne. It was strong to say it best, but why was that? Other days he’d come in with no smell so why was today different? I pictured his frame leaning against the door in the hallway during our recess. He was a tall guy, 6’4 and his energy followed that. Every day he came into work with a kind smile and a good morning for everyone but he hadn’t in a few weeks. He wasn’t bad looking either with his short dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes but alas he wore a wedding ring when we first met. That was until a month ago when I noticed it off and he never mentioned anything. I remembered back to the morning when he left abruptly at 10:00 on the dot and returned at exactly 10:15. Later at around 1:00 he did the same and came back at 1:15 again. Coincidence? No, nothing in our world is. So, what could he be doing that took 15 minutes? Immediately a conversation I had with my therapist friend came up where she mentioned “15 minutes on the phone talking about common interests is an exercise for troubled couples”. This means that Hartley was having marital problems. The judge coughed and I jumped. I regained focus and slowly opened my sore eyes to adjust to the light. Shouldn’t’ have I just ended this? Stopped all the suffering I caused everyone and just admitted to it. They all have places to be so why couldn’t I just say “Yeah, I did it”. Four stupidly simple words I couldn’t get out of my mouth. Why didn’t I think I did anything? I did! I killed so many people! I can admit it now but what was wrong with me then? I’m a psychiatrist! I should be able to tell what is wrong with people with the slightest movement but in this case, I can’t and I don’t know why. The entire trial I had no feeling in me. It's like I was turning into someone else. I felt no remorse for killing 17 people. And yeah, sure it was out of my hands but I still was caught red-handed prescribing medication people never even needed just to make a profit. I just don’t understand it all. I have studied the brains, body languages, and emotions of thousands of people for most of my life yet somehow I can’t find out why or what happened to me. I was a good person before all of this. I had friends, an amazing career, a life, and a family, so how could one bad decision make me want to drive that all away? The answer you may be wondering? I will never be able to give. I shot out of my chair fiercely “Not guilty, your honor,” the whole courtroom gasped out loud, “I plead not guilty”.