Mr. Paine. No; I didn't.
Mr. Liebeler. Did you know he had written about anything?
Mr. Paine. No; if I had thought he had written about something, I would certainly have been eager to have read it.
Mr. Liebeler. Did you ever have any opinion that this man was psychologically disturbed, suffering from personality disturbances and neurosis or psychosis—you pick it.
Mr. Paine. No; truthfully, I should say that did not appear to be a good description. It seemed simpler and more to the point to say he was extremely bitter and couldn't believe there was much good will in people. There was mostly evil, conniving, or else stupidity—was the description—that was his opinion or would be his description of most people. That's my description, and the best description I can give of him—to call him other psychological names—names of paranoia or paranoid or something like that.
Mr. Liebeler. What made you pick that particular name?
Mr. Paine. Well, that kind of suspicion of people—expecting them to be consciously perpetrating evil or ill toward him or toward the oppressed people—workers—is perhaps a trait of paranoia.
Mr. Liebeler. Do you think that he exhibited this trait?
Mr. Paine. Yes; he did, but it didn't seem to be uncontrollable. He didn't generally take it—I would say he was paranoid if he always took it personally, but he always seemed to transfer it to, or put himself in the class of people who were oppressed, so that's the distinction why I wouldn't call him sick or wouldn't have then called him sick—before the assassination.
Mr. Liebeler. Because he seemed to describe this feeling of his in institutional terms?