'Not the point,' Terri scribbled angrily, adding, 'Risk of wrongfully convicting the innocent,' and then, hastily, 'Doesn't understand legal system,' before looking up at Kuhl with fresh intensity. Beneath his air of helpfulness, she thought, lurked the cynicism and coldness of a mercenary who had found his niche. As if to refute her, Kuhl concluded, 'If I may venture an opinion, asking experts to testify that a defendant is retarded in order to spare him execution is damaging to both disciplines—psychology and law. It turns psychologists into judges, if not into God. It tempts experts to place defendants into simplistic boxes—retarded or not retarded—in order to determine their fates. Ultimately, it's corrupting.'
Terri stood. 'Your Honor,' she told Judge Bond, 'I move to strike that entire speech. With a touching air of melancholy, Dr. Kuhl has just informed us that the United States Supreme Court didn't know what it was doing in Atkins and invites this Court to nullify its ruling. It's Dr. Kuhl who has crossed the line, with a colossal arrogance dressed up as humility. All to ensure the execution of a man who is not like 'you or me.'
'I remind Dr. Kuhl that one purpose of Atkins—among many—is to keep us from executing the innocent. And that, far from being God, Dr. Kuhl's not even a judge.' Pausing, she finished in a pointed tone, 'Judges, after all, are sworn to uphold the law.'
Bond's eyes narrowed in irritation. But while no doubt he, too, disliked the Atkins decision, Terri had invited the media to see him as he must not be seen—the judge who allowed a partisan expert to question the Supreme Court, and the law which governed whether Rennell Price might live. 'This Court,' he told her sternly, 'is completely capable of defining the proper boundaries of expert testimony, and of setting aside any gratuitous remarks.' Facing Kuhl, he added with more dispassion, 'Nonetheless, any critique of Atkins risks blurring the question you're addressing—whether, under Atkins, Rennell Price is mentally retarded. Please confine yourself to that.'
Terri sat again, doubting her decision to intervene. 'No choice,' Chris whispered in reassurance. 'This undertaker was hijacking Bond's courtroom. At least you broke his rhythm.'
'All right,' Pell continued with the imperturbable manner of one too confident to be diverted. 'I'll ask you to focus on Mr. Price. I believe you videotaped your examination at San Quentin State Prison.'
Kuhl's eyes flickered toward Terri. 'That's correct.'
'Perhaps you can show us a portion of that tape, and give us your opinion on what it means.'
Stepping off the witness stand, Kuhl stood next to a television screen, pressing a button. For a moment numbers flashed against a black background, five counting down to one, and then Rennell Price's face appeared in close-up.
To an untutored eye, Terri thought, his round face would look normal, though somewhat lacking in expression. Perhaps only she could read the fear in his eyes, his hope of not appearing stupid.
From off camera, Kuhl's voice was calm and encouraging. 'I'm going to ask you to remember three words, okay?'
Rennell hesitated, eyes focused on the speaker. 'Okay.'
'Ap-ple,' Kuhl articulated each syllable. 'Ta-ble. Mo-ney. Got that? 'Apple,' 'table,' 'money.' '
'Okay.'
At the corner of the screen, a digital clock appeared, counting down five minutes. 'All right,' Kuhl's voice said. 'I'd like you to work this puzzle for me.'
The immobile stare Rennell gave Kuhl could be read as recalcitrance or, in Terri's experience, a reluctance to appear foolish. Then Rennell gazed slowly downward and, with the animation of an automaton—or the disdain of a truant—began moving pieces of a puzzle the screen did not show. Little about him seemed sympathetic or engaging.
In the silent courtroom, Kuhl and his audience watched the clock tick down. 'The puzzle is a simple one,' Kuhl explained to Bond. 'It involved putting the figures of ten animals into spaces with corresponding shapes. He did this, as you will see, in less than two minutes . . .'
'Or in Kit's case,' Carlo murmured, 'sixty seconds. Kuhl makes it sound like Rennell just passed the bar.' After a pause, he added, 'What's grotesque is that if he passes, he gets to die.'
'What's the animal at the bottom?' Kuhl was asking Rennell.
Rennell hesitated. 'Zebra.'
'And at the top?'
'Lion.' Rennell's voice filled with contempt—or pride. 'Not stupid, man.'
The clock kept ticking down. 'You know your animals,' Kuhl's calm voice said. 'Did you ever go to the zoo?'
Expressionless, Rennell shook his head.
'Then how did you know a zebra?'
Rennell shrugged. 'Readin' books.'
'From cartoons,' Terri told Carlo. 'Except for Hawkman comics, Rennell avoids books like the plague.' In despair, she saw the clock tick down to zero, watching as Rennell resisted acknowledging his incapacity.
'How come your grades weren't better?' Kuhl asked.
Rennell shrugged again. 'Just fuckin' off. Stopped tryin', is all.'
The digital clock read '0:00.'
'Remember the words I gave you?'
'Yeah.' Rennell pursed his lips. ' 'Apple,' ' he repeated slowly. ' 'Table.' ' Briefly, his eyes seemed to roll back in his head, then to re-focus. ' 'Money.' '
As the screen went blank, Kuhl turned to face the judge. 'When Rennell Price cares to, Your Honor, he has a functioning memory. He is by no means bright. But I think his own words account for a good portion of his academic
