memory of how to get where we’re going.”
“Do you recall reading about the supposed ‘recovery’ of repressed memory of the prosecution’s witness, Zachary Stavros, such as it applies to my client Emil Stavros and the crime with which he’s been charged?” Anderson asked.
“I have.”
“Is that the sort of ‘jogging’ of the memory you were talking about?”
Oatman rolled his eyes and again shook his head. “No. This quasi science that some of my colleagues in the psychology business profess is very unreliable. It’s more likely, in this case, that the ‘memory’ is a combination of the boy’s imagination-a way for him to deal with the sad loss of his mother and the idea that she might have abandoned him-and, perhaps, something his therapist may have suggested accidentally…or not.”
“Are you saying this ‘memory’ could have been planted, Dr. Oatman?” Anderson asked as if the idea had never occurred to him.
“Yes. When someone is under hypnosis, they are very suggestible. It’s sort of like having a dream where you wake up and wonder if it really happened. Of course, with a dream, we quickly realize that it wasn’t real. But it’s not as easy with a memory we pick up while under hypnosis. It may continue to be viewed as ‘real’ unless we are disabused of the notion.”
Anderson turned over his witness to Karp, who noted that while Oatman had the same superficial smile plastered on his face, he had difficulty looking him in the eyes. Nervous, he thought, with good cause.
“Good morning, Dr. Oatman,” Karp said. “If I may say so, you look like you spend a lot of time in the sun.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. Karp. But don’t worry,” Oatman replied, turning to the jury with a smile, “it hasn’t addled my brains.”
Karp laughed with the rest of the courtroom. Smarmy bastard, he thought, but that ought to help. “I suppose not. Are you a surfer?”
Oatman looked surprised and glanced at Anderson, who was smiling but looked as if his brain was grinding trying to decide if he ought to object.
“Why yes, I try to get out a few times a week, as a matter of fact,” Oatman said. “I’m not as young as I used to be, so I have to work a lot harder to stay on board.”
“I see,” Karp said. “Then you’d be familiar with the term ‘goofy-footed’?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of it,” Oatman said, shrugging as he addressed the jury. “Most surfers, like most of the population, are right-footed so the most comfortable or standard stance is with the left foot forward. Standing the opposite way is therefore ‘goofy-footed,’ though most surfers will switch back and forth.”
“So do you switch back and forth from standing left-footed and goofy-footed, too?”
Anderson saw the danger and jumped to his feet. “I object, Your Honor. He’s trying to bait the witness into saying something that isn’t relevant to this case.”
Judge Lussman looked at Karp with a half smile. “Is there some sort of relevance to this line of questioning, Mr. Karp?”
Karp smiled. “As a matter of fact, there is, Your Honor, and I’ll get to the point, if I may proceed.”
“You may, Mr. Karp,” the judge said. “But do so quickly.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Dr. Oatman, you told the jury that you’ve testified in more than three hundred cases. Is that true?”
Oatman was on guard. “Yes, more than three hundred cases.”
“Ever testified as a prosecution witness regarding repressed memory?”
“Yes, I have appeared for both the prosecution and the defense,” Oatman said. “I consider myself a scientist…the facts are the facts. My clients, whether the prosecution or the defense, know going in that I will state my opinion without regard for how it impacts their case.”
“I see. And have you ever testified to the effect that there
Oatman’s eyes flashed with alarm. “I may have early in my career when I was still somewhat on the fence.”
“How long did you say you’ve been a practicing psychologist?”
“Approximately twenty-five years.”
“So if you said something that supported repressed memory as scientifically valid in, say, the last five years, would that have been early or late in your career?”
Oatman gave a weak smile. “Ah, you must be talking about the seminar in Canada…I can explain-”
Karp interrupted. “Please, first answer my question. Would that have been early in your career?”
“Well, uh, no, not really,” Oatman said. “But-”
“Then why, Dr. Oatman, would you have told the audience at the University of Toronto in May 2000 that, and I quote, ‘the science of recovering repressed memories can no longer be considered in the same vein as witchcraft or past-life regression…time and again, hypnotized patients in clinical studies have recovered memories that could be proven with empirical facts.”
“Well, taken out of context-”
“Out of context, Dr. Oatman? Didn’t this appear in a professional magazine that ran the report of your speech past you before publication?”
“Well, yes, I didn’t mean ‘out of context’ like that…I meant that I was playing the devil’s advocate,” Oatman said, his smile beginning to resemble a grimace.
“This was a debate?” Karp asked, looking back at his notes. “I saw nothing to indicate that you were debating someone who was playing the other side of the devil’s advocate.”
“Well, perhaps I could have put that better-”
“Yes, perhaps,” Karp said. “So do you recall telling your audience that, and again I quote, ‘the science of repressed memory’ could be an important tool for attorneys on both sides of the aisle?”
“Yes,” Oatman said sullenly.
“Who paid for you to give that speech, Dr. Oatman?”
“Relevance!” Anderson shouted, jumping to his feet.
“Overruled.”
Oatman glared at Karp. “The speech was given to the Toronto Bar Association.”
“So you told a roomful of lawyers that repressed memory was scientifically valid and an important courtroom tool?”
“Yes, Mr. Karp,” Oatman said. “That’s what I said.”
“So based on today’s testimony that would make you goofy-footed when it comes to your views on repressed memory?” Karp asked, thinking that one never knew when perusing one of Zak’s skateboard and surfboard magazines might come in handy.
“Objection!” Anderson shouted.
“Sustained,” the judge said shaking his head at Karp before turning to the jury. “You will disregard the last question from Mr. Karp…. And Mr. Karp, please restrain yourself.”
On redirect, Anderson made a feeble attempt at rehabilitating his witness, who claimed to have reached his current feelings about repressed memory recovery “in the past year or so.” But the defense attorney was also aware that none of the jurors were taking notes, and in fact, some were watching Oatman with their arms crossed.
Not a good sign for Dr. Oatman, Karp thought. He didn’t even bother to look up from his notes when Anderson turned the psychologist back over to him for recross. “I have nothing further for this witness, Your Honor,” he said. He didn’t bother to conceal the contempt in his voice, even though personally, until this case, he hadn’t given repressed memory much credence either.
The defense called its expert witnesses to counter Drs. Swanburg and Gates, but their testimony was so weak that Karp didn’t bother to cross-examine them. “I have no questions,” he said with a little nudge. “The people will let the jury weigh who to believe.”
He enjoyed watching the defense lawyers look up at the clock and then huddle. “They don’t like the pace of the trial,” Karp said to Guma when the court recessed for lunch.
“Then maybe we should pick it up,” Guma replied with a wicked smile.
