“You’ve got to give us permission to tell Gary,” Judy said. “Absolutely not. Two people too many already know.”

“It’s necessary if we’re to help you,” Turner said.

“I don’t need help, madam. Danny and David may need help, but it’s really none of my concern.”

‘ Don’t you care about keeping Billy alive?” Judy asked, infuriated by Arthur’s superior attitude.

“Yes,” he said, “but at what cost? They’re going to say we’re crazy. This is all getting quite out of hand. We’ve been keeping Billy alive ever since he tried to jump off the school roof.” “What do you mean?” Turner asked. “Keeping him alive how?”

“By keeping him asleep all this time.”

“Don’t you see how this can affect our case?” Judy said. “It can determine prison or freedom. Wouldn’t you have more time and freedom to think and study outside the prison walls? Or do you want to go back to Lebanon?”

Arthur crossed his legs, looking from Judy to Dorothy and back again. “I don’t like to argue with ladies. I’ll agree only on the same condition as before—that you get all the others to agree as well.”

Three days later Judy Stevenson got permission to tell Gary Schweickart.

She walked from the Franklin County Jail in the cold February morning back to the public defender’s office. She poured herself a cup of coffee, went directly to Gary’s cluttered office, sat down and braced herself.

“Okay,” she said. “Have them hold all your calls. I’ve got something to tell you about Billy.”

When she was done telling him about her meetings with Dorothy Turner and Milligan, he looked at her as if she were crazy.

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” she insisted. “I’ve talked to them.”

He stood up and lumbered back and forth behind his desk, his unbrushed hair hanging outside his collar, his baggy shirt half out of his belt. “Oh, come on,” he protested. “No way. I mean, I know he’s mentally disturbed, and I’m on your side. But this isn’t going to work.”

“You have to come and see it for yourself. You just don’t know … I’m absolutely convinced.”

“All right. But I’ll tell you this—I don’t believe it. The prosecutor’s not going to believe it. And the judge isn’t going to believe it. I’ve got great confidence in you, Judy. You’re a fine lawyer and an excellent judge of people. But this is a con. I think you’re being had.”

The following day, Gary went with her to the Franklin County Jail at three o’clock, expecting to stay just half an hour. He had rejected the whole idea completely. It was impossible. But his skepticism turned to curiosity as he confronted one personality after another. He saw the frightened David turn into the shy Danny, who remembered meeting him that first terrifying day when they brought him in and booked him.

“I didn’t have any idea what was going on when they busted into the apartment and arrested me,” Danny said.