Many of my patients believe themselves to be possessed by the dead, or to be themselves
dead souls inhabiting animal bodies. As you know, the body of scientific evidence on such matters is small. In trying to enlarge
it, I’ve had to call on the skills of a great many people whose knowledge is of an empirical rather than an academic nature.”
Knowing the Jenna-Jane juggernaut and how it rolled along, I was listening to all this with a detached interest. I had to
give her a 5.9 for artistic effect, but only 5.6 for technical merit. She’d gotten the respectful tone right, but she’d overdone
the beating around the bush. “Your point, Professor Mulbridge,” the magistrate chided her.
“My apologies, Your Honor. My point is that Rafael Ditko claims to be demonically possessed. Dr. Webb’s initial diagnosis
was paranoid schizophrenia, but he admits that there’s some anomalous evidence that brings the diagnosis into question. He
wants Ditko transferred both because he represents a danger to the staff at the Stanger Home and because they don’t have the
proper facilities there to treat him.
“So a decision on Mr. Ditko’s case requires an awareness of the paranormal as well as of the psychiatric factors presenting
in his case. And it would be hard to find anywhere in the United Kingdom any practitioner in those areas—specifically, any
exorcist—who hasn’t worked with me or for me at some point in the last ten years. Why, Mr. Castor himself”—she turned to indicate
me with a tolerant smile, our eyes locking for the second time—“was a very valued colleague of mine at the Metamorphic Ontology
Unit until comparatively recently.”
The magistrate looked at me with a certain mild surprise. “Is this true, Mr. Castor?”
Damn. Sometimes when you’re not knife-fighting with Jenna-Jane on a day-to-day basis, you forget how strong her instinct for
the jugular really is.
There was no point dodging the bullet. “As far as it goes, yeah,” I admitted. “And it’s also true that a lot of exorcists
are going to have had associations with the MOU in the past. That’s different from being still on staff there, though. And
you could easily find a psychiatrist who isn’t in Jenna-Jane’s pocket.”
“A psychiatrist with a background in the behavioral and psychological matrices of bodily resurrection?” Jenna-Jane inquired,
tapping her thumbnail against her notebook.
“You don’t have a monopoly on—” Pen broke in.
“Please,” said Mr. Runcie with more of an edge to his voice. “I must insist that you address all comments to me and restrict
yourself to answering my direct questions. Sit down. All of you, please sit down. I haven’t asked anybody to stand.”
We all complied, but the magistrate’s feathers were thoroughly ruffled, and he didn’t look any happier. “Thank you. It appears
that there are two separate issues here—the one concerning Miss Bruckner’s assertion of power of attorney, and the other relating
to the legal constitution of the tribunal’s panel. Mr. Fenster, are there any other heads under this case of which you’ve
failed to apprise me?”
“None, Your Honor,” the barrister said, taking the implied criticism on the chin. “Those are the two substantive issues.”
The magistrate glanced at Pen. “And do you agree with that summary, Miss Bruckner? I mean, insofar as it states the matter
at issue—the substance of your case?”
Pen hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, Your Honor.”
There was a silence. The Honorable Mr. Runcie looked far from happy. “And the tribunal has no brief to review the terms of
Rafael Ditko’s detention—only his transferral from one facility to another?”
“Your Honor,” said the barrister, looking profoundly sorrowful, “Mr. Ditko has been involved in incidents of damage or assault
at the Stanger Home on five separate occasions within the last year. There are currently no plans—outside
dead souls inhabiting animal bodies. As you know, the body of scientific evidence on such matters is small. In trying to enlarge
it, I’ve had to call on the skills of a great many people whose knowledge is of an empirical rather than an academic nature.”
Knowing the Jenna-Jane juggernaut and how it rolled along, I was listening to all this with a detached interest. I had to
give her a 5.9 for artistic effect, but only 5.6 for technical merit. She’d gotten the respectful tone right, but she’d overdone
the beating around the bush. “Your point, Professor Mulbridge,” the magistrate chided her.
“My apologies, Your Honor. My point is that Rafael Ditko claims to be demonically possessed. Dr. Webb’s initial diagnosis
was paranoid schizophrenia, but he admits that there’s some anomalous evidence that brings the diagnosis into question. He
wants Ditko transferred both because he represents a danger to the staff at the Stanger Home and because they don’t have the
proper facilities there to treat him.
“So a decision on Mr. Ditko’s case requires an awareness of the paranormal as well as of the psychiatric factors presenting
in his case. And it would be hard to find anywhere in the United Kingdom any practitioner in those areas—specifically, any
exorcist—who hasn’t worked with me or for me at some point in the last ten years. Why, Mr. Castor himself”—she turned to indicate
me with a tolerant smile, our eyes locking for the second time—“was a very valued colleague of mine at the Metamorphic Ontology
Unit until comparatively recently.”
The magistrate looked at me with a certain mild surprise. “Is this true, Mr. Castor?”
Damn. Sometimes when you’re not knife-fighting with Jenna-Jane on a day-to-day basis, you forget how strong her instinct for
the jugular really is.
There was no point dodging the bullet. “As far as it goes, yeah,” I admitted. “And it’s also true that a lot of exorcists
are going to have had associations with the MOU in the past. That’s different from being still on staff there, though. And
you could easily find a psychiatrist who isn’t in Jenna-Jane’s pocket.”
“A psychiatrist with a background in the behavioral and psychological matrices of bodily resurrection?” Jenna-Jane inquired,
tapping her thumbnail against her notebook.
“You don’t have a monopoly on—” Pen broke in.
“Please,” said Mr. Runcie with more of an edge to his voice. “I must insist that you address all comments to me and restrict
yourself to answering my direct questions. Sit down. All of you, please sit down. I haven’t asked anybody to stand.”
We all complied, but the magistrate’s feathers were thoroughly ruffled, and he didn’t look any happier. “Thank you. It appears
that there are two separate issues here—the one concerning Miss Bruckner’s assertion of power of attorney, and the other relating
to the legal constitution of the tribunal’s panel. Mr. Fenster, are there any other heads under this case of which you’ve
failed to apprise me?”
“None, Your Honor,” the barrister said, taking the implied criticism on the chin. “Those are the two substantive issues.”
The magistrate glanced at Pen. “And do you agree with that summary, Miss Bruckner? I mean, insofar as it states the matter
at issue—the substance of your case?”
Pen hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, Your Honor.”
There was a silence. The Honorable Mr. Runcie looked far from happy. “And the tribunal has no brief to review the terms of
Rafael Ditko’s detention—only his transferral from one facility to another?”
“Your Honor,” said the barrister, looking profoundly sorrowful, “Mr. Ditko has been involved in incidents of damage or assault
at the Stanger Home on five separate occasions within the last year. There are currently no plans—outside
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