Free The Insanity Plea by Larry D. Thompson

Dan, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah, Nancy, it is. Think I can
visit with Harry?”
    Glancing at her phone, she saw a
blinking red light. “He’s on the phone. I’ll check the minute he gets off. You
want some coffee? Black as usual?”
    Without waiting for a reply she
walked over to a small table, poured black coffee into an old porcelain cup and
handed it to him. “I see your mother every Sunday at church. I hear you’re
making quite a name for yourself in Houston. I’m so sorry about Dan.” She would
have continued nonstop but noticed that the light on her phone was off. Picking
it up, she told the D. A. that Wayne Little was in the office. Seconds later,
the inner door flew open and a large man came through.
    Harry Klein was in his mid-fifties. Most
of his hair was gone and what little that remained was gray. Big enough to have
played on the offensive line for Galveston High School and at a small college
in East Texas, his weight had shifted over the years. Still he was a commanding
figure and filled the room with his booming voice.
    Klein seized Wayne’s hand and led him
into his office, closing the door behind him. Klein sat at his desk. Wayne knew
to take one of the two leather chairs facing the district attorney and offering
a panoramic view through the windows behind him of Galveston’s historical district
and the port filled with ships and offshore oil rigs in for repairs. To Wayne’s
right were more windows with a view of the Gulf dotted with sailboats, a couple
of tankers creeping toward the port and, in the distance, semi-submersible oil
rigs. While the courthouse was old, Harry’s office offered some of the best
views in town. They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes. Klein showed off
pictures of three grandchildren and then got to the point.
    “About Dan, it’s not good. In fact,
it couldn’t be much worse.”
    “I figured as much. What can you tell
me, Harry?”
    “Knowing that it was Dan, I’ve pretty
well kept on top of the case. For good measure, let me have Nancy pull the
file.” He turned, called Nancy and requested Dan’s file.
      Harry stared out the window at a sea-going
fishing boat headed out into the Gulf. Collecting his thoughts, he began. “It
was a brutal murder. A young nurse, Debbie Robinson was her name, was attacked
before sunrise one morning. We learned that it was her habit to run five miles
on the seawall before reporting to John Sealy. Her throat was cut from ear to
ear. Instrument was either a really sharp knife or, as one of the detectives
thought, maybe a surgical scalpel. With a medical school and a bunch of
hospitals here, something like that wouldn’t be hard to come by. The attacker
ripped off her running shorts and threw her over the seawall at 21 st in front of the Galvez right there where the jetty is. You know where I’m
talking about?”
    “Sure, Harry. Dan used to take me
fishing on that jetty. It was one of his favorite spots. Biggest fish I ever
caught was right there at the end of it.” Wayne stopped as he realized he had
just provided a bit of evidence that the prosecution may not have had.
    Harry recognized his uneasiness and
continued, “Don’t worry, Wayne. You’re not telling us anything we don’t already
know. A retired couple from Fort Worth, down here for a few days, was out on an
early morning walk. They saw a homeless guy climb over the seawall, talking to
himself. When he saw them, he took off up 21 st . They saw blood on
the sidewalk and followed it. When they looked down, they saw Debbie’s body and
called 911. The officers were there in about five minutes. The crime scene guys
got there pretty quick, too. Looked like someone had stepped in her blood. There
were a couple of footprints on the sidewalk, going away from the scene. She had
a fractured skull from hitting her head on one of those boulders and some
bleeding in the brain, but the medical examiner said she was dead before she
was thrown over the wall.”
    Wayne took a sip of