Dr R. A. Russell
My PolicemanDr R. A. Russell is the psychiatrist who meets Patrick Hazlewood in prison and offers him a relationship founded on attentive listening rather than condemnation. His office’s warmth contrasts with the prison Patrick has just left, but Russell’s more consequential difference is ethical: he questions whether Patrick wants to change and says that the law against private adult relationships is unjust. Their conversations expose the gap between the language of “cure” imposed on Patrick and the possibility of choosing what he wants for himself.
Identity and Introduction
Dr R. A. Russell first appears when Patrick is brought up a staircase to a door bearing his name in modern silver script. The encounter is framed by a sharp change of environment. Patrick has come from the prison’s boiled-cabbage smell and the stale sweat of unwashed men; the newly plastered walls smell almost like bread, while large windows flood the corridor with light. The sensory contrast makes the visit feel like entry into a different world before Russell has said anything.
Inside, a fire burns and a new carpet covers the floor. Its multicoloured cubes on a royal-blue ground strike Patrick as synthetic and unattractive, yet he finds its softness wonderful and feels suddenly lifted from the floor. The comforts are not simply decorative: after three months without seeing art, Patrick notices the bright print of Matisse’s La Danse above Russell’s desk, its colours almost obscene in their beauty. The warmth and colour give the meeting an immediate emotional setting, one in which conversation seems possible against the deprivation of prison.
Russell introduces himself directly, then settles behind his desk with a fountain pen. Patrick’s chair, however, is the familiar wooden kind, and Russell notices his disappointment. He says he is working on replacing it, arguing that it is ridiculous to expect someone to speak freely while perched on a school chair. His remark that “No one tells teacher their secrets, eh?” shows his attention to the conditions of the encounter: he recognizes that the furniture can either reinforce an interview’s authority or make disclosure harder.
The Sessions and Their Method
Russell begins by asking Patrick to describe how he is at that moment. Patrick says nothing, looking instead at La Danse. Russell follows his gaze and agrees that it is lovely. Their exchange makes room for Patrick’s silence rather than treating it as a failure to cooperate. When Patrick says there is little beauty in prison, Russell counters that some people can find beauty wherever they are; he does not deny Patrick’s bleak assessment, but answers it without demanding that Patrick adopt a more hopeful one.
After a long pause, Russell taps his pen three times and asks whether Patrick wants to be cured. Patrick nearly laughs, then checks himself under Russell’s serious gaze. His answer is an emphatic yes, but his own reasoning reveals the constraint around that answer: he is choosing between staying in a warm, light room talking by the fire and being sent back to his cell. The scene therefore complicates the apparent certainty of his reply. Patrick agrees to treatment, but the immediate circumstances of imprisonment shape what “yes” can mean.
The meetings are to take place once a week. At a later visit, Russell proposes beginning with Patrick’s childhood. Patrick doubts that psychiatrists really ask such a question, and Russell tells him to begin wherever he likes. The invitation is open-ended, not a demand for a particular explanation. Patrick anticipates that Russell will interpret his feelings about his mother as unhealthy projection and connect them to his conviction for gross indecency, but Russell does not offer the judgment Patrick expects. His restraint makes the sessions distinct from the legal condemnation already governing Patrick’s life.
Cure, Choice, and the Law
As one session approaches its end, Russell tells Patrick that he could change, then asks whether he really wants to. Patrick repeats that he wants to be cured, but Russell says he is not sure he believes him. The challenge shifts the conversation away from a simple promise of treatment: Russell treats Patrick’s stated desire as something to examine, not as proof that change is either necessary or sincerely wanted. He does not claim to know Patrick’s answer for him.
Patrick says that change would probably take years, while he has only six months left in prison. Russell responds with a rueful laugh and, leaning forward and lowering his voice, says he thinks the law is an ass: “What two adults get up to in private is their business.” He then makes his position conditional. If Patrick wants to change, therapy could help; if he does not, Russell says, the effort is not worth making. The contrast is central to his characterization. The law has made Patrick’s private sexuality the basis of imprisonment, while Russell refuses to present therapy as an obligation simply because the law condemns him.
Patrick holds out his hand, and Russell takes it. Patrick thanks him for his honesty, then jokes about there being no more fireside chats. The handshake and the joke give their exchange a personal warmth, but do not erase the imbalance of the circumstances: Patrick remains imprisoned and has only months left to serve. Russell can offer a room, a weekly meeting, and candour about the law; he cannot remove the sentence that brought Patrick to his door.
Narrative Role
Russell’s appearances provide a counterpoint to the prison’s institutional judgment. The formal question of cure might have repeated the assumption that Patrick’s sexuality is an illness, but Russell’s later comments unsettle that assumption by separating possible personal change from legal coercion. His conduct is conveyed through small, concrete gestures—the pen tapped three times, the attention to Patrick’s chair, the lowered voice, the offered hand—rather than through a lengthy account of his professional beliefs.
The conversations also give Patrick room to remain divided. He says he wants a cure, yet recognizes that the warm room is preferable to his cell; he says he wants to avoid thinking about Tom Burgess, yet finds his mind returning to him and to their journey through Venice. Russell does not resolve that conflict in the evidence presented. Instead, he asks questions that make the difference between compliance and desire harder to ignore. His significance lies in that limited but meaningful intervention: within a punitive system, he treats Patrick’s wishes as a question for Patrick to answer.
