It happened last June. As I worked on a high-pitched murder case in a large eastern city, I met the psychiatrist retained by opposing counsel, as he sat in on my interview with the defendant. New to the case as I was, and having volunteered to have him present for my interview, I asked him for the notes of his examination. I was greeted with a truly stunning reply. "Let the attorneys work that out," said he.

And so they did. When the dust cleared I was given his notes, sure—on the day of his trial testimony, ten minutes after I got off the plane and scrambled into court. Only then was I able to compare his report to his notes, and I was fortunate to have any opportunity at all to help a cross-examining attorney expose what truth this respected colleague was intentionally hiding from the unsuspecting jury. By now, after seeing my colleague try to hide behind the skirt of legal procedure, I was drawn into an adversarial mentality a forensic scientist should never have. How could I not help but exult (quietly) as he was turned into a wet spot in the witness box? Perhaps you may see nothing wrong with this. But you should.

My satisfaction with the outcome of that June case was somewhat dimmed by my discomfort over how much I ended up wanting that verdict. I dismissed the 'hiding the notes' trick as some unusual phenomenon, an act of a person embarrassed by an evaluation he never thought anyone would scrutinize. The months since, however, have demonstrated that this was more than just a one-time event. Just last week, I was informed—for the third time in three months—that an opposing colleague had 'lost' his notes. On another recent occasion, the examiner insisted he didn't take notes—until he was contradicted by the examinee. Then, he said, he threw his notes away. On still another occasion, the notes sent to me were obviously reconstructed, yet presented as authentic.

The culprits aren't clods; you can bet they've never lost a bill for their services. Another of these psychiatrists, whose notes have not been released pending the outcome of an epic struggle, is a nationally renowned forensic ethicist. If failure to document is grounds for malpractice, then where does that leave the consultant whose dog ate his homework?

Even as many forensic scientists are defensive when forced to confront the proliferation of hired guns in our industry, increased attention to the ethics of consultants is surely a great thing. In recent years, those who have pulled the wool over the eyes of courts civil and criminal have joined progressives albeit at the speed of committees, to explore peer review and videotaping. But the increased responsibility of forensic scientists in the courtroom, and the opportunity to look over the shoulder of a colleague, have chilled the pious into grotesque Darwinian adaptations. In the end, we don't look any less invested in the outcome than the lawyer who tries the case. This is the worst thing that could happen to the profession.

Above all, psychiatrists, psychologists, and medical scientists have a responsibility to uphold the integrity of their science. The court has its own procedures and rules; but the dignity of medicine should lead the court, particularly in an age when courts still presumably respect the scientists who inhabit the role of expert witness.

As such, forensic psychiatry and psychology have a responsibility to ensure that truth comes to the court. The time has come to mandate recorded interviews, or at least access to notes and corroborating sources of information. We should view this as a priority that only enhances the quality of written reports and oral testimony. Respectable colleagues can surely disagree, even when given open access to information—but let it follow the medical model, where the second opinion has access to the entire record.

Already, federal courts require disclosure of a testifying expert's case history, earnings, and publications. But in many jurisdictions, experts need not submit reports explaining their findings; production of notes from interviews and record review, and of psychological testing, is not mandated. Should the profession recommend that these regulations be enacted? The answer is yes. However, the oversight of managed care has severely emasculated the already politically impotent mental health professions; we will see Ted Turner in the White House before we see psychiatrists asking to be more regulated.

Sadly, therefore, it seems that this reform will never take place until courts start sanctioning experts for chicanery. And why not? Because no professional body within forensic mental health polices this field, which has far more ethical baggage that the rest of organized medicine. So why are my malpractice premiums so low?

Yes, the money of forensic consultation corrupts, and the power of no accountability to the courts corrupts absolutely. It took parents aggrieved by the custody evaluation process to call attention to this phenomenon. Now it's time for courts to get wise and force consultants to do unto the law what they must do unto medicine.