Violent Crimes Read Free Page B

condition have influenced the way he reacted to Roux’s provocation?”
    â€œThat’s a definite possibility,” Dr. Fisher said. “People suffering from PTSD can be more irritable and impulsive than someone without the problem. It would be reasonable to assume that Tom might not take as long to think about how to react to a punch as a person without PTSD. Then you factor in that Tom was not just in the military—he was in an elite fighting unit. This could have a bearing.”
    â€œHow so?” Amanda asked.
    â€œElite forces like the Navy SEALs, Green Berets, and Delta Force work mostly in secret and they are frontline troops sent time and again into the most dangerous and violent sections of war zones. Elite forces are trained to take care of problems with overwhelming force. In combat, you kill. There is no mercy because, in addition to defending yourself, you have to look out for the people in your unit and eliminate any threats to your comrades. From what you’ve told me, Tom kept striking Roux until he was convinced that no threat existed. This would fit with his training. Civilians who are not used to being in fights would be hesitant tostrike someone, and loath to hurt someone they’ve struck. Tom would have none of those restraints. Given his background and the circumstances of the attack, I would say that it was entirely reasonable for someone with Tom’s condition and training to act as he did.”

CHAPTER 5
    The Multnomah County Courthouse is a brutish, eight-story gray concrete building that takes up the entire block between Fourth and Fifth and Main and Salmon in the heart of downtown Portland. When Amanda stepped out of the elevator on the sixth floor, she almost ran into Mike Greene. Amanda and Mike had been dating steadily for a year, and they flashed wide smiles the minute they saw each other.
    Mike had curly black hair, pale blue eyes, and a shaggy mustache. People always assumed that he had played football or basketball because of his massive, six-five body, but Mike, who didn’t even watch sports on TV, was a jazz musician and an expert-rated chess player.
    â€œWhat are you doing in my domain?” the chief criminal deputy of the Multnomah County District Attorney’s Office asked.
    â€œI’m here to try to convince Larry Frederick to dismiss a case,” Amanda answered.
    â€œIf your client is innocent, I’ll instruct Larry to resist yourentreaties,” Mike answered sternly. “Anyone can convict the guilty. Convicting the innocent presents a challenge.”
    â€œHave I ever told you that you are a fascist pig?”
    â€œFrequently.”
    â€œWhat are you up to?” Amanda asked.
    â€œA short appearance in Judge Embry’s court. I should be finished in a half hour if you’re up for coffee.”
    â€œI can’t. I’m interviewing a new client at the office. But you can take me out for sushi tonight.”
    â€œDeal. I’ll pick you up at your office around five,” Mike said before heading to Judge Embry’s courtroom.
    Larry Frederick was a mild-mannered Georgetown Law grad, whose wire-rimmed glasses were always slipping down his nose and who constantly brushed back the long brown locks that fell across his brow. Amanda got the impression that Frederick wore his hair long not for style but because he forgot to get it cut. The deputy DA took an intellectual approach to his cases, and Amanda appreciated Frederick’s reasonable attitude. She could not say the same for Detective Alan Hotchkiss, a stocky ex-wrestler who dealt with defendants in the same overly aggressive way he’d dealt with his opponents when he’d been racking up pins for Oregon State.
    â€œWhat have you got for me?” Frederick asked with an easy smile once Amanda had seated herself across from him. Amanda could see a section of the West Hills through the window behind the DA. The fact that Frederick’s