Chain of Evidence

“But you’re no MD, Buzz.”

“Mind your own business. It works. Don’t knock it. Are you paying attention? Are you?”

“Yes.”

He handed Dart a photocopy of a page containing too many boxes, all filled with numbers. “Full blood workup that you requested. Harold Payne.”

“What’s it tell us?” Dart asked.

“It tells me. I tell you,” he replied arrogantly. “What it tells me, is that your boy was a quart low on androgens. Everything else checks out fine.”

“Androgens?”

“Male hormones. Testosterone and company. The ‘hard’ in hard-on.”

“Slow down, Buzz.”

“We aren’t even started yet. I tell ya-this is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. This is the kind of thing that a guy like me lives for. You been there. You know.”

“Androgens,” Dart repeated. He took out his notepad.

Seeing this, Bragg said, “Good boy. Now you’re getting the point.”

“What is the point? Or do you have to take me through two years of pre-med first?”

“Don’t get cute,” Bragg warned. “Most hormones can be categorized as either peptides or lipids. Peptides are chains of amino acids; lipids are fats and oils. Steroids are an example of a lipid. Did you hear me? Steroids. Do I have your interest yet? Both males and females possess endocrine systems that deliver estrogens, what we think of as female hormones, and androgens, the male hormones, in varying quantities. Those quantities control development and maturity of the genitals, body hair, breasts, voice range-human sexuality.” He craned forward, “Pay attention! Some say the psychology of sex as well, because many peptides have association with psychological activity. It is a delicate and precious balance responsible for the propagation of all species. A peptide is a chain of amino acids-you make it longer and it becomes a protein. In its shorter version it acts as a hormone. On an atomic level, there are some fascinating things that take place-but I’ll save you that, unless you’re interested.”

“Give me the Cliff Notes version.”

Bragg warned, “You’re going to need to study this if you’re ever going to understand it. This won’t come easy, Ivy. This isn’t ballistics or even DNA fingerprinting. This is heady stuff. We would have missed this if you hadn’t pushed for that workup, but you did, and I gotta tell ya, I love this shit!”

“But worth what?” Dart repeated.

“We’re talking about vastly diminished levels of androgens, Ivy. Radically diminished levels, if you follow me.”

“I want to follow you. I’m trying,” Dart said.

“I’ll tell ya something-based on this blood work, I would have bet the farm that Payne was a neuter. No testicles. But I checked.” Answering Dart’s puzzled expression he said, “Damn right. I checked with Doc Ray-jewels intact. Which means that there is no medical explanation for these deficiencies. And let me just say that hormone deficiency has been a major focus of the medical community for decades, and I’m quite aware of the science as a whole and certain treatments in specific.”

“Does this has to do with-”

“His being a wife beater? It certainly could. You bet. And if you ask me, it does. Opinions might vary. But there’s the rub: lower levels should make this guy passive; abnormally higher levels of androgens would be anticipated in a sex offender. And that’s where the research I was talking about comes in.” He pointed to a stack of books. He was speaking so excitedly that Dart could barely understand him. “I got some of this on-line last night. Some of it from standard reference. I’ve posted a couple of e-mails; I should know more by tomorrow or Friday. Fascinating stuff,” he said.

“Let me get this straight: Payne’s levels were lower than normal. And given his abhorrent behavior with his wife, we would expect higher levels.”

“I would,” Bragg corrected. “Yes. And here’s the bigger problem: The blood workup did not reveal any medication-the synthetic or animal hormones we would expect to encounter with chemical castration.”

“Castration?”

“Let me give you some background.” He pointed to the stack of books and newspaper articles on the countertop. “First off, keep in mind that we’re talking about sex offenders, Ivy. Very important! We’re talking about men who take ten-year-old girls behind toolsheds and force them to have sex. Full penetration. Oral sex. Anal sex. You name it. It ain’t pretty. If it’s assault, then they break a few limbs in the process. Beat her up. Or if it’s a Harold Payne, then it’s the beating her up that counts. Bruises. Contusions. Lacerations. Fractures. These guys are beasts.”

“If you’re asking if we care about these guys dying, all I can say is-”

“I’m not! I tell ya, I’m not crying over losing Harold Payne-not if he took his own life. But we’re both questioning that, aren’t we? Of course we are, or you wouldn’t be here. Listen to me-several years back, late eighties, Finland instituted a program of voluntary castration for its sex offenders. They traded these men freedom for castration. The group was monitored and studied over a four-year period. The results were impressive: two to four percent recidivism versus eighty in the control group-a ninety-eight percent reduction in sexual assault; and even these figures are skewed. The two to four percent repeat offenders were picked up for offenses like voyeurism and flashing. In fact, none of the castrated offenders went on to commit a violent sexual act. Not one.

“The castrations were voluntary, don’t forget,” Bragg continued. “I tell ya, it’s a relatively simple procedure: the testicles are removed and replaced by prosthesis. And don’t feel too sorry: A percentage of the group reported having intercourse about once a month. But the abhorrent behavior, caused by either ‘defective’ hormone production-if you will-or the body’s overproduction, was eliminated entirely. Simple English: Castration works.”

“But Payne’s equipment was intact,” Dart reminded.

“Scientists and researchers in this country bowed to the religious right and deemed castration barbaric. This, despite the obvious success. But it led to other attempts: The U.S. decided that a less barbaric solution would be to administer high doses of estrogen, in theory to counter-balance the ill effects of the over-production of testosterone. That’s known as chemical castration. It was tried on a voluntary basis in some of our prisons. It failed on two counts. One, because of the inherent social problems with this approach: breast development, loss of facial hair, a change of voice. Two, it just plain didn’t work. The funding was scrapped and the program dropped. We reverted to locking away sex offenders, but for far too brief a time.”

“Teddy-”

“Where am I going with this?” he asked rhetorically. “Let me tell ya.” He spun his chair around and produced one of several gray cardboard boxes, the size and shape of a shoe box. He removed the lid and pulled out a plastic bag, inside of which was a smaller plastic bag, inside of which were the glass vials recovered from 11 Hamilton Court. “Don’t jump all over me about the inadmissibility of this evidence, because I’ve heard all about it. And besides, that’s your problem. I don’t give a shit. My job is to make sense of evidence. And boy, can I make sense of this.”

“Talk to me.”

“Dead viruses,” he said, pointing to the vials. “Mean anything?”

“Vaccine?”

“Good boy,” Bragg said, clearly impressed. “Only in this case you’re wrong. Close, but no cigar.”

Mention of a cigar reminded Dart of Zeller, and he studied Bragg closely to see if maybe the man knew more than he was letting on. He decided that he wasn’t. “So?”

“There are three systems currently in wide use for the delivery of gene therapy.”

“Gene therapy,” Dart echoed.

“DNA. The building block of life.”

“I got that,” Dart said anxiously.