The Secrets on Chicory Lane: A Novel(61)

“A psychiatric hospital? Why?”

“The elder Mr. Newcott thought that his son was a ‘pervert,’ a homosexual, or that he would grow up to be one. That, of course, wasn’t true—he was a victim. What happened to him wasn’t going to ‘make him gay,’ but his father didn’t believe that. So Eddie was sent to an institution in Wichita Falls where the poor boy underwent shock therapy and other inhumane treatments. He continued his school work as a patient. I believe he was more of a prisoner. The elder Mr. Newcott had some extreme views about the situation. In those days, homosexuality wasn’t understood like it is today. It was thought that homosexuality could be ‘cured’ or ‘prevented.’ Eddie—young Mr. Newcott—went through a nightmare at the behest of his father.”

It was all coming to light. So that’s where Eddie had been when he vanished for a year—he’d spent his sixth grade being a lab rat for sadistic doctors. No wonder he hated his father. No wonder Eddie had killed him. Christ, I didn’t blame him. I didn’t blame him at all.

“Mr. Baxter, in your professional opinion, how do you think young Eddie became a victim of this Mr. Alpine?”

“It was the opinion of Social Services—and me, too—that Eddie had such an abusive and unloving situation at his own home that he was vulnerable and primed to be a victim. Mr. Alpine was kind to him. The man gave the boy presents. The man showed him affection. Before Eddie was old enough to know better, he probably thought that the kind of attention he got from Mr. Alpine was better than what he received at home.”

The courtroom remained hushed.

“Mr. Baxter, it was well known at the time that Mr. Alpine confessed to abducting the Truman child and committed suicide in his cell. Why were the revelations about the child pornography kept from the public?”

“That part of the case was suppressed. People with higher pay grades than mine made the decisions. Let’s just say that the late Mayor Alpine did some negotiating with the Chief of Police and Detective Donner. The mayor’s brother was already going down for kidnapping and murder. He didn’t want his brother’s name tarnished any more than it was. We were sworn to secrecy. They’re all dead now, so I figured it was time to tell it.”

Everyone in the courtroom started murmuring. Some of the reporters ran out of the room to make the scoop with their media outlet. I sat there, dumbfounded, my stomach in knots.

The judge banged the gavel and called for order. After the room quieted down, Crane continued. “Mr. Baxter, you stated earlier that you kept in touch with the defendant through the eighties. Why?”

“I felt sorry for him. I hoped he might look up to me as a kinder male authority figure than what he was used to, so I checked in on him every now and then to see how he was doing. He was responsive to me, for a while, anyway.”

“Then what?”

“Once he grew up, went into the army, and returned, he was a changed man. He avoided talking to me. But we saw each other in town every once in a while. It was friendly, a ‘Hello, how are you’ kind of thing.”

“Isn’t it true that the defendant witnessed the death of his own father?”

“That’s correct. The elder Mr. Newcott was in a drilling accident and fell from the top of an oil rig. This was after the defendant had returned from Vietnam and was working for his father in the oil fields.”

“And are you aware of the activities the defendant became involved with in the last decade?”

“Yes.”

“And may I ask your opinion of the way the defendant has become something of a public figure in Limite? The Satanism. The black house.”

Baxter shook his head. “He’s a very disturbed individual.”

“Mr. Baxter, do you believe the sexual abuse and physical abuse the defendant suffered as a child had an impact on his emotional and mental growth?”

“How could it not?”

Shamrock stood and objected, stating that the witness was not an expert in psychiatry. The judge rubbed his chin and, shockingly, sustained. But the jury had heard the opinion, and I couldn’t see how any reasonable person in the courtroom could argue with it.

“Thank you, Mr. Baxter,” Crane said, and then nodded to Shamrock. “Your witness.”

“No questions.”

The former detective stepped down and left the courtroom. The judge called for a recess. I remained in my seat, stunned. As other spectators left the room, I watched Eddie. For the first time since the trial began, he turned and looked at me.

The sadness—the damage—in his eyes was heartbreaking.





25


Crane did the best he could with his closing argument. He said the defense wasn’t denying that Eddie had killed Dora Walton and her unborn child. The issue was whether or not the defendant knew what he was doing—whether he was “insane” or not. The jury had heard testimony that Eddie was diagnosed with depression and a severe anxiety disorder, and that he had gone off his meds. They heard how he had been abused as a child, not only by his sadistic father but by a pedophilic neighbor. Was it any wonder that Eddie would grow up to have “unusual” views about the world, hence, his interest in Satanism? All of this contributed to the commitment of the crime. Crane asked the jury to “do the right thing” and find the defendant not guilty by reason of insanity.