Mr Peterson

As Mr Peterson’s psychologist for the past twelve years, I’ve seen the best and the worst of him. I could write a book about him, and I still may when the time is right, but I certainly wouldn’t consider it until after the trial. He considers himself as a likable character, and I’d simply say that he could be. He makes friends, close friends, quite effortlessly and is very generous with his affection. Of course, he loses these friendships as quickly as he makes them, usually as a result of an unwarranted violent episode.  One such example is that of a man he used meet in a bar to talk about politics. They became great friends in a short period of time, but he assaulted him with a pool cue after a simple misunderstanding. As is most often the case, the man never pressed charges. Of course, any psychologist worth his salt could tell you that his illness stems from his uncle’s molestation of him as a child, but it’s how this culminated in his father’s murder that will take me to the stand tomorrow. As thick as the file marked “Charles Barlow Peterson” is, I still don’t know how I’ll testify. I don’t know if I’ll condemn my patient, or save my friend. It might depend on how he looks me in the eye.


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