The next day the doorbell at the studio woke her. Resolved not to open for anyone remotely resembling a reporter, she slipped into her bathrobe and went to the door. The thin, bald man in an expensive suit behind it did not look like a reporter, and she could not spot any camera. Maybe one of Mikael's lawyers? She had left them several notes on the answering machine. Crystal opened.
"Good morning, Miss Jennings, I suppose? - I'm Joseph Laghari, from Hauser & Wirth in New York."
She remembered having heard about that gallery. "Good morning, how can I help you?" She ran her fingers through her hair, knowing she looked terrible.
"Well, let's get right to the point! Mikael Gant was one of our lighthouse artists, and I know he was working on several projects."
"Yes, that's right."
He squeezed in and shot inquisitive looks around. "Compelling materiality, yes! This would make a marvelous centerpiece." He had halted in front of Mikael's latest statue.
"But it is not finished yet."
"Oh, it doesn't matter. People will snatch it from my hands anyway. You see..." He looked at her as if she was a first-grader because she seemed not to have grasped the situation. "Nothing sells better than artwork from an artist who won't produce anything anymore. The prices for Gant's works are skyrocketing."
You talk as if Mikael is DEAD already! "Please, leave my house, Mr. Laghari." Crystal had trouble staying calm.
"These pieces are worth millions, Miss Jennings. And I'm entitled to- "
"Get out of my house! NOW!"
...
The proceedings started one month later after an evaluation had declared Mikael competent to stand trial. The press had sunk their teeth greedily in the matter and exploited it with an almost obscene sensation mongering. There wasn't a tabloid in the US (or elsewhere), that did not print Mikael's face on the front page and relished in true or supposedly true details about his life and his crimes. Outside the court, protesters rallied demanding the full application of justice, and not as they feared, the prevalence of money or some fake insanity defense. A group of religious fundamentalists spoke of the "re-incarnated devil" and attacked his art at the MOMA.
There in the courtroom, Crystal could finally see Mikael again. He looked frail and pale, sitting next to his lawyer Louis LaMotte, who talked to him intently, but obviously did not get any answer from his client. At least, he was not in a wheelchair anymore. Using the moment, where the security was busy with the reporters and protesters, Crystal managed to reach him.
"Mikael!" She embraced him. His attempts to put his arms around her as well were hindered by the handcuffs. "I missed you so much," Crystal whispered in tears.
He looked up to her with eyes full of desperation. "They said I have killed those women... I was fascinated that much by contradiction and duplicity… I did not know…"
Now a police officer had spotted what was going on and came closer with fast steps. "Miss, please, stay back! Stay back!"
Crystal did not hear anything. She knelt next to Mikael on the floor, held him, and cried. His right hand clasped around her hair as if it was a lifeline. "Don't leave me, Crystal! Don't leave me!"
The police officer had the hand on his weapon, one of his colleagues also stepped closer. "Miss! Step back! Or you're going to be arrested!"
LaMotte tried to deescalate the situation and gently put a hand on her shoulder. "Please, Mrs. Jennings. That way, you make everything worse. I'm going to help Mikael as best as I can, believe me. Now please, calm down. … Mikael, you listen to me. Let her go."
Finally, they parted. Crystal was escorted out of the courtroom. She complied mechanically to move her legs, feeling like a walking dead. One week into the proceedings, it was decided to exclude the public, after a protester had tried to attack Mikael and in doing so injured two other people.
The situation became unbearable for Crystal as well. The house was beleaguered by reporters, stones were smashed into the windows. Wherever she showed up, someone harassed her. She could dispose of one of Mikael's accounts, so money wasn't that a problem, but she was a prisoner in the house. She continued to paint. It seemed like the only thing keeping her mind from spiraling down in a black hole of hopelessness and pain. In painting, she felt close to her lover again, felt almost as if able to touch his soul. The police eventually decided to relocate her and seal the house, at least for the time of the proceedings.
…
After lengthy sessions and evaluations, Mikael was convicted for seven of the murders during the last years in New York, Chicago, L.A., and the murder of Alexa Finley in Hilo. According to the evidence, the other women had been victims of Nick Sorvino. However, he was found not guilty because of mental impairment and sentenced to preventive detention in a forensic mental institution. Tenaciously, Crystal began to fight for the permission of a visit.
...
Five months after Mikael's institutionalization in the forensic department of the Hawaiian State Hospital, she finally got the permit for a visit. She took the next available flight and was there as early as possible to fill out all the prepared forms. The building was modern and had in no way the eerie appearance mental institutions so often had in horror films. The walls' colors were friendly and sunny. A few plants decorated the aisle. Nonetheless, Crystal sensed that particular depressing prison feeling. Maybe the locked doors and the security cameras were to blame. And, of course, the fact that the 'inmates' were indeed chained when they were accompanied into the visitor's area.
She was about to sign the final paper when a young member of the medical staff approached her. "Mrs. Jennings? Good morning! I'm sorry, but I have to inform you that your visit today has been canceled."
"I have all the necessary forms and permits; from the court, the senior physician of this hospital, and a lawyer's—"
"I'm sorry. But the patient started to show extreme suicidal tendencies, and he had to be sedated."
"I want to see him," Crystal insisted. "I have a right to see him. I won't leave!"
"I'll check with the responsible psychologists. I can't promise you anything, Mrs. Jennings. Would you mind waiting over there in the waiting room?"
She agreed – and waited for over an hour, until a nurse showed up to tell her that maybe the visit could take place after lunchtime, depending on Mikael's condition then. Crystal nodded and waited further. She was not in the mood to go outside and have something to eat herself. Eventually, a staff member asked her to join him.
"He is awake now, but don't expect too much," he explained with a low voice as if speaking about a dying person. "We have taken care you'll be safe during the meeting. There are security cameras. Just try to stay calm, whatever his reactions might be, and avoid body contact. One of us will be next door all the time."
Crystal was disgusted but remained silent. The paramedic guided her past the normal visiting area into a separate room. Here, it looked much more like a hospital. The bright warm colors had given way to pure white. The atmosphere made her freeze.
After another ten minutes, the second door across from her seat opened, and Mikael was brought in. He sat in a wheelchair again, just as last time when she had seen him. But nothing the medical staff had said so far could have prepared her for this sight. He was barely more than a shadow of his former self; unshaven and hair hanging disorderly into his face. Her heart cramped. Did they not take care of their patients here?!
"Mikael, my love! I tried to come earlier, but I was not allowed."
Only now he seemed to realize she was in the room. "Crystal…. Go… away…"
"I will get you out! I contacted specialists!"
"Why don't they… just… kill me?" he whispered and stared at her with haunted eyes. "I cannot live… anymore."
"Don't say this! I love you! I will never stop loving you!"
"I have ... killed those women! I would … have killed you, too!"
"No, you would not have!" Not caring about anything else anymore, she took his hands. They were so cold as if touching a dead. "I KNOW you would not have!" She leaned in to kiss him, but already, one orderly from the staff burst into the room.
"No close contact!" He grabbed her arm.
"Let go of me!" she shouted, at the absolute end of her endurance. "I'm not a criminal!" She turned back to Mikael.
"You must not… visit me again, Crystal. I don't want you... to see me like this. Please go. GO AWAY!"
Now the orderly dragged her out of the room while informing another staff member, to take care of the patient. A desperate last glance on Mikael, who hang in his wheelchair, while the staff member bent down to him. Then the door fell shut.
…
Crystal was still in shock when she arrived at her new home in Honolulu. She spotted a man walking on and off in front of her house, obviously waiting for her, and suspected him to be a reporter who had managed to track her down. Resolved not to take notice of him and not to answer anything, she ran toward the entrance door.
"Mrs. Jennings? Mrs. Jennings!" He called after her and was at her side the next moment. "I'm Dr. Hauteville, from the APA (=American Psychological Association). You wrote to me, but I was on a congress in Europe and only returned yesterday."
Yes, she remembered having written to him and having already buried the hope for an answer! She turned around. "Dr. Hauteville, thank you. I'm sorry… I just come from the hospital, and I…" She bit her lip and wiped over her eyes. "Excuse me, please."
"If you prefer, we can meet tomorrow," he offered.
She shook her head and opened the door. "No, it's okay, I just need a second." She breathed deeply. "I'm grateful you found the time for a personal conversation. Please, come in! – And I'm sorry if it looks a bit disorderly, I wasn't really in the mood for house polishing!"
The psychologist entered past her and his view fell on some of Crystal's paintings she had stored in the corridor for lack of room.
"Are these works by Mikael Gant?" he asked, lowering down curiously to inspect one of the canvas.
"No, these are my pitiful attempts. I figured painting is a good way for me to … deal with everything."
"It's intriguing! You should have someone take a look at your works! An expert!"
"Oh no, it's just… it's amateurish." She felt as if he tried to divert her from the subject.
Crystal gestured into the living room. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea or coffee?" Mechanically, she filled the coffee machine, took two cups from the shelf. She tried to sort her thoughts. "I have to help Mikael! He was ... was in a very bad shape. I don't think they treat him well in that clinic. And they fill him up with drugs. He was barely able to speak." She was close to crying again and turned back to the coffee machine.
"I don't think Mr. Gant is mistreated, Mrs. Jennings. He is very ill and that condition-"
"I don't want to hear any more about CONDITIONS! I'm sick of it! There MUST be something I can do, Dr. Hauteville!" Her hands trembled and she spilled her coffee. "There must be something I can do... I can't just... sit here and ... and..."
"You need some rest yourself. And help, Mrs. Jennings."
"All I need is Mikael. So please, tell me, what I can do."
The psychologist sighed, not very convinced the women in front of him was in a state of mind accessible to reason. "There are evaluations," he said, "psychological evaluations that have to be done, assessing if a patient could live outside an institution. And in Mr. Gant's case, he'll need a very good lawyer proving to the world he is no danger to anyone anymore. The best lawyer. And that lawyer better does not make a mistake."
