Judge Washburn frowned. “I think that’s all. Do you have anything else, Mr. Franklyn?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Winslow?”
“Yes. Mr. Grayson, are you employed?”
“Yes, I am.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a diamond broker.”
“Is that right? Where is your place of business?”
“I operate out of my own home.”
“And where is that?”
“Teaneck, New Jersey.”
“Teaneck, New Jersey? Is that also the home of Jason Tindel?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Now, when you say a diamond broker-that means you sell diamonds?”
“That’s right.”
“But a diamond broker’s different than a diamond merchant, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“In what way?”
“A diamond merchant sells gems. A diamond broker arranges sales.”
“I see. In other words, you don’t sell your own gems?”
“No.”
“You have no stock or inventory? No diamonds of your own?”
“That’s right.”
“You find a person who wants to buy diamonds, and another person who wants to sell diamonds, and you act as a middleman?”
“Yes.”
“Now you say you conduct your business out of your own home?”
“That’s right.”
“Which is Teaneck, New Jersey?”
“That’s right.”
“Is that the same place you were conducting your business from a year ago?”
“No, it is not.”
“And where were you conducting your business from then?”
“Great Neck.”
“That’s also where you were living?”
“That’s right.”
“Is that also where Jason Tindel was living?”
“That’s right.”
“The place in Great Neck, where you and Jason Tindel were living and where you were conducting business- was that also the house of the petitioner Jack Walsh?”
“That’s right.”
“How long had you been living there?”
“For twelve years.”
“I see. So when Jack Walsh sold the house out from under himself, he also sold it out from under you and Jason Tindel, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, had you ever paid any rent on the house in Great Neck?”
“No.”
“You’d been living there for twelve years, and never paid any rent?”
“Uncle Jack wouldn’t charge his relatives rent.”
“I see. But you
“Yes, I am.”
“Gee,” Steve said. “After twelve years of not paying any rent at all, that must be a considerable shock. Tell me something-if Jason and Rose Tindel are declared conservators of Jack Walsh’s estate-would you stop paying rent then?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never discussed that matter with them?”
“No, I did not.”
“The matter ever cross your mind?”
After a pause, the witness said, “No.”
“Then you have no interest whatsoever in the outcome of this hearing?” Steve said.
“I want to see that Uncle Jack’s interests are protected.”
“By protected you mean placed in the hands of Jason and Rose Tindel? The people with whom you have not discussed whether this action would enable you to stop paying rent?” Steve smiled. “Thank you. I have no further questions, Your Honor.”
“That’s all Mr. Grayson,” Judge Washburn said. He glanced at his notes. “It is at this point that I would like to question the petitioner. Unfortunately, he’s unavailable. Now, Mr. Franklyn, you say you have a psychiatrist here to testify to that effect?”
“That’s right. A Dr. Gerald Feldspar. He is on the staff at Bellevue Hospital, and is the doctor who admitted Jack Walsh.”
“Very well. Dr. Feldspar take the stand.”
Dr. Feldspar turned out to be a plump little man, some sixty years old. He wore thick-lensed glasses, and had a rather pompous manner. He bustled up to the witness stand, sat down, pushed his glasses back on his nose, and peered up at the judge in a manner that bordered on insolence.
“You name is Dr. Gerald Feldspar?”
“That’s right.”
“What is you occupation?”
“I am a psychiatrist at Bellevue Hospital.”
“Are you acquainted with Jack Walsh, the petitioner in this action?”
“I am. He is a patient in my care.”
“At Bellevue Hospital?”
“That is correct.”
“How long has he been there?”
“He was brought in two days ago.”
“And you were the doctor who admitted him?”
“That’s right.”
“Could you describe the circumstances under which you committed the petitioner?”
“Certainly. It was about three in the afternoon. I was summoned to my office with the news that a patient had been brought in. I arrived to find that two hospital orderlies had brought in the subject. He was a white male, some seventy-five years of age. He was unshaved, uncombed, unwashed, dressed in close to rags. He was disoriented, irrational, incoherent. He was also violent and had been subdued by a straightjacket.”
“What did you do?”
“I attempted to calm him down and reason with him. Which was, I’m afraid, next to impossible. Upon examination I discovered the subject to be a paranoid schizophrenic with psychopathic tendencies. In, I might add, a very advanced state.”
“You ordered him committed at that time?”
“I did.”
Judge Washburn picked up a paper from his bench. “Doctor, are you aware that his attorney has filed a writ of
