The Fear Dissertation // A Jonathan Crane Dark Romance

16

I can only stare in horror.

Karlo's slumped on the floor. His eyes are dead, flat, lifeless; a tremor through his limbs the only sign he's still alive. The red headed thug beside him lays unconscious. Groaning periodically.

I kneel down beside Karlo. "Mr..." I take a shuddering breath. "Basil? Basil, can you hear me?"

"Sss..." he whispers. "Sss..."

I wait.

"Sc... scare..."

"There's nothing to be frightened of," I try to reassure him. "You're perfectly safe."

The orderly outside the door crosses his arms. "He's unfit for court. Doctor Crane signed off on it just ten minutes ago."

"Doctor Crane was here?"

The orderly nods. "He escorted the other man in here last night. We don't know who he is. Trying to clear a room for him."

I nod slowly. Wait just a little longer for Basil to say something. Do something. None of this makes sense. Did the Joker somehow do this? He didn't even know about it until I told him this morning.

Your Guardian Angel.

Did somebody do this to look out for me?

It doesn't matter. I still need to attend the trial. Assert myself, just like the Joker taught me. While taking out the man who threatened me and Basil sends a strong enough message on its own, I still need to give testimony.

And now I no longer have to choose between lying or pissing off criminals. I can maintain my principles. Whoever left Basil in this state has granted me that much, at least.

A shudder runs through me at the thought.

I clear my throat. "Very well. I'll let the court know."

***

"Please state your name and credentials for the court."

I take a small sip of water from the plastic cup in front of me. Glance quickly across the courtroom. Harleen nods encouragingly and gives me a thumbs up. I don't know who in the room is trying to threaten me — who sent the man, now in just as incapable a state as the Joker described.

But I still need to do as the Joker said.

"My name is Sienna Moore. I'm a Junior Psychologist at Arkham Asylum."

The prosecuting attorney, Rachel Dawes, begins her line of questioning. "And you conducted the psychological evaluation of Basil Karlo, correct?"

"Yes, that is correct. Alongside a supervising psychiatrist, Doctor Quinzel."

"And what were the findings of this evaluation?"

The Joker's words echo in my ears. You want to throw them off balance. Make them sweat, my dear not-a-doc. That's how you gain the upper hand. Give them a taste of uncertainty, let them think you won't play their game. But remember, it's all part of the plan.

"I have submitted our reports into evidence. Mr Karlo has been diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder. This is not a cause for criminal insanity, and thus, we declared him legally sane."

The defense attorney lurches to his feet. "Objection, Your Honour! My client could not attend court today due to a need for urgent psychological treatment at Arkham Asylum. This is not the circumstance of a legally sane man."

The Judge turns to me. "Remember you are under oath, Miss Moore. Do you wish to rectify your statement?"

"No," I reply. "As stated, Mr Karlo has been declared legally sane, and therefore met the requirements for sentencing to a prison."

I pause. Remember, the Joker had said, when you're dancing on the edge, you've got to make them believe you're about to fall. And then, when they least expect it, you rise to the occasion.

"That is, until this morning. During a brief appointment with another patient, I was informed that Mr Karlo's mental state had sharply deteriorated overnight. I went to see Mr Karlo myself, and found him in no fit state for an interview, much less sentencing."

Rachel's lips tighten. "That was this morning, Miss Moore, not at the time of Mr Karlo's crimes. A more recent lapse in mental state does not excuse his mass murder."

I wait a moment longer. My eyes sweep across the courtroom, allowing whichever powers that be to sweat just a little longer. "Forgive me, Miss Dawes, have you studied extensively in the fields of psychology or psychiatry?"

The prosecutor's jaw clenches.

"Or perhaps neuroscience?" I continue. "I'm going to assume not, because if you had, you would surely know that insanity is not always apparent. It can be concealed and masked, or have inconsistent symptoms. My recommendation for this court is to keep Mr Karlo stationed at Arkham Asylum for further treatment. As of this morning, he is certifiably criminally insane. I have the report here — forgive me, Your Honour, I'm sure you can appreciate this all happened too late to be admissible as evidence. It has been reviewed and co-signed by Doctor Quinzel, as well as the Head Psychologist at Arkham. To make it clear — should any further information come to light suggesting Mr Karlo is fit to stand trial and face sentencing, I shall inform the court at once. Until that time, I recommend he be housed in the Asylum. In my professional opinion, I expect he will remain there for life."

I smile pleasantly at Rachel Dawes.

"No further questions," she snaps.

***

I'm unsurprised when Dawes accosts Harleen and I, outside the courtroom after the trial.

"Miss Moore?" She calls after us. "A word?"

Harleen eyes her with suspicion. "You want me to handle her?" She mutters.

"You go catch us a ride back to Arkham," I tell her. "I'll only be a moment."

Reluctantly, Harleen leaves. Rachel stands before me and folds her arms across her chest.

"You gave in to the pressure, huh?"

"Pressure?" I reply.

"Someone paid you off. Who was it?"

"Check my bank accounts," I say coldly. "Search my apartment. Or better yet, come visit Mr Karlo at the asylum."

"Oh, I plan to."

I wait expectantly. "Alright, then." Turn to leave.

"You should know, Miss Moore, I'll be prosecuting Oldham for the murder of Matt Carter."

A chill sweeps through my bones. "I didn't realise there would be a trial."

"Manager of the largest bank in Gotham, killed in a manner nobody can agree is murder or suicide?" She raises an eyebrow. "Of course there'll be a trial. And as you'll be called to the stand, it might be in your best interests not to lie to me." Her gaze softens. "What happened with Karlo?"

For a brief moment, I truly consider telling her. What harm could it do? I'd only be divulging that threats were made, and that somebody silenced the blackmailer. She might even be able to look into it. Find some answers.

I blame the Joker, I decide. For the way he phrased it. Guardian Angel. Tall bird in the pond. Whoever it was that messed up my blackmailer so badly he can no longer form a single word... I feel a strange surge of gratitude. A need to protect that person in turn.

"Karlo broke," I say simply. "People don't just break like that. I failed to evaluate him critically enough before this. I won't make that mistake again."

Her eyes narrow. We're done here — but she's not done. "I'll see you on the witness stand."

Of course, I should have seen this coming. Of course Matt deserves a trial, and his killer a sentencing.

But it unnerves me. What were Penny and Brooks digging up — or rather, fabricating — before Oldham confessed?

Could I still go to prison for this?