Alec said, “Joan Eunice Brother Yonny Schmidt, I’m pleased to call you whatever you like, and I don’t have daughters your age and you make me feel younger just to look at you. But I’m not speaking for my roommate and I’d hate to tell you how old some of his offspring are; he was the scourge of P.S. 238—stay away from him and let me protect you. And did I mention how happy I am that Mrs. Seward fired me? Brother Joan Eunice, I would never have been in this case other than as a favor to Parkinson’s mother-in-law. But at first it did look like a straightforward case of protecting the interests of an invalid too ill to protect himself. Believe me.”
“Don’t listen to him,” advised the Judge. “He’s an ambulance chaser. I throw legitimate business his way just to protect the good name of our Brothers. But back to this matter of identity. Joan Eunice, I don’t know how much law you know—”
“Just what has rubbed off in the course of a long and evil life. I depend on experts. Such as Jake.”
“I see. Well, your granddaughters probably think it is wrong of me to help you establish your identity. It is not. True, in a civil suit or a criminal action a judge must be impartial. But such a matter as establishing identity is neither one, and there is no rule of law or equity which prohibits a court from being helpful. The situation is like that of a citizen who has lost his passport and appeals to his consul. The consul doesn’t sit as a judge; he tries to get the mixup straightened out. So— Jake, you’ve been in the Law much longer than I have; do you want my opinions?”
“I am always most happy to have Judge McCampbell’s opinions on any matter.”
“I think I’ll reconvene court and slam you for contempt. After I’ve finished this drink. All right, you’re going to get ‘em anyhow. Do you anticipate any difficulty in proving that the brain of Brother Schmidt was moved into the body of Eunice Branca?”
“None. A nuisance but no difficulty.”
“Or in showing that this body—this lovely body—was once that of Eunice Branca?”
“Same answer.”
“What evidence?”
“Police reports, photographs, hospital personnel, and so forth.”
“Let’s say it’s my court. I’m going to make you go back and touch second at every opportunity. I intentionally got into the record today that ruling based on ‘Parsons’ estate v. Rhode Island’; I think it’s important—”
“So do I.”
“Thank you. In following the principle that identity lies in the brain and nowhere else”—(We could tell him something, couldn’t we, Boss?) (Yes, beloved—but we aren’t going to!)—”I am going to be as tough as possible. No depositions when it is possible to bring the witness into court. Photographs and other records not only allowed but required—but the originals must be brought into court, not copies, and photographers or record keepers must appear and identify same, and the surgeons or others whose work appears in those films, photographs, or records must appear and confirm each record. Do you know if each body was fingerprinted just prior to surgery?”
“Not of my own knowledge. Damn it, I was taken by surprise today—and at the time of Eunice Branca’s death I had other things worrying me.”
Joan Eunice reached over and squeezed his hand. Alec Train said, “I can help on that. When Parkinson brought Mrs. Seward to see me, I checked on that point at once. Prints were taken from both bodies—so I gave identity no further thought. That’s why I was taken as much by surprise as you two. I don’t know what chimney-corner lawyer put the idea in Mrs. Seward’s head—Parkinson, probably; he’s stayed at her elbow all through—but I received instructions just ac court convened. I’m not spilling any privileged communication when I say that—nor do I know of any Canon which forbids me to say that I am damn sick of both Mrs. Seward and Parkinson.”
“Hmm. Every possible bit of evidence,” McCampbell went on. “You will have to trace that brain out of that body—Joan Eunice—no, Jake. Jake, do you know what became of Johann Smith’s body?”