The Ann Dawson Case

PART 8- Patricia

"Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, and free of charge as well," said Patricia, sitting on my patient couch, fidgeting.

"Really, it's not a problem. So, how are you?" I asked, pulling out the same pen and clipboard that I always use.

"Patient confidentiality exists here, right?" asked Patty.

"Yes, of course. I only have to legally report a session if the patient is at danger of harming or killing him or herself or at danger of harming or killing someone else," I recited.

I did take it seriously. Not that I had anyone to talk to, but if I did, we'd be talking about more interesting stuff than my patients' lives.

"Maybe this was a bad idea in coming here. I should go," Patricia got up.

"No, please. I can help," I looked at her, slightly begging. I wanted to know what was on her mind.

"Ann Dawson's death is haunting me," she said, paling.

"It's not your fault. Wasn't Linda Turner charged?" I told her reassuringly.

"She couldn't have done it. Linda is so sweet. She's vegan too: wouldn't hurt a fly," Patricia told me, her eyes starting to water.

Why was Patricia telling me this? Linda was convicted; obviously, they had enough evidence.

"Patricia, how can you be sure Linda did it? People aren't always what they seem to be," I told her in a calm voice, in an attempt to make her do the same.

She took a shaky breath and then whispered dramatically, "I think I killed Ann Dawson."

I was shocked. Patricia? She thought she had murdered Ann? I was so confused.

"Why aren't you sure, Patricia?"

"I don't remember that day at all. I have a problem, and Ann knew about it," Patricia sniffled. I well knew about Ann's curiosity.

"What kind of problem, Patricia?" The trick to therapy was to use their name a lot in conversation.

"After my husbands death, I was prescribed a lot of antidepressants and sleeping pills. I soon got hooked, and I started doing other things. She wanted my— um— medication in return for her silence. I hated that girl so much. She had no right into my business. I should have never hired her as a babysitter. I don't think I would have killed her, but I'm not sure what I'm capable of," she said, trailing off, starting to tear up.

I handed her a box of tissues, and she blew her nose loudly before continuing, "I'm not myself. I feel things that aren't real. I don't know what's real anymore," she told me, sobbing.

"Maybe I didn't kill Ann, but I had a motive, and I do things I shouldn't do. I don't even remember that day fully," she told me, shaking.

I was more concerned about her drug problem; she needed to get sober. I told her not to worry about the murder, that Linda did it. There was enough evidence to convict her. It didn't really matter if Linda didn't kill her, right? There was nothing anyone could do about it, and Ann Dawson couldn't be un-murdered.

"Patricia, have you ever thought about rehab?" I asked her.

"I'm a single mother with two twelve year old children; I can't take that time off. I can't get my husband's life insurance either; the company's having problems communicating with me," she told me, sadly.

 We discussed possible outpatient rehab programs she could fit into her schedule and budget. Patricia was sweet. I liked her a lot, despite her understandably nervous demeanor. She didn't seem like she could have killed Ann Dawson.