Hollow then produced Kobel’s tax returns for the past three years.
When Ringling objected, Hollow said to Judge Rollins, “Your Honor, a man who files a tax return is of sound mind.”
“That’s debatable,” said the ultraconservative judge, drawing laughter from the courtroom.
Oh, to be on the bench, thought Glenn Hollow. And maybe after a few years’ stint as the attorney general I will be.
Rollins said, “I’ll let ’em in.”
“These are your returns, aren’t they, sir?”
“I guess. Yes.”
“They indicate you made a fair amount of money at your practice. About forty thousand dollars a year.”
“Maybe. I suppose so.”
“So despite those other two patients who testified earlier, you must have a much larger number of patients you treat regularly and who are satisfied with your services.”
Kobel looked him in the eyes. “There’re a lot of nemes out there. Somebody’s gotta fight ’em.”
Hollow sighed. “No further questions, Your Honor.”
The prosecutor then called his own expert, a psychiatrist who’d examined Kobel. The testimony was that, though quirky, he was not legally insane. He was well aware of what he was doing, that he was committing a crime when he killed the victim.
Ringling asked a few questions, but didn’t belabor the cross-examination.
Toward the end of the day, during a short break, Glenn Hollow sneaked a look at the jury box; he’d been a prosecutor and a trial lawyer for a long time and was an expert not only at the law but at reading juries.
And, goddamn it, they were reacting just the way Bob Ringling wanted them to. Hollow could tell they hated and feared Martin Kobel, but because he was such a monster and the things he was saying were so bizarre, he couldn’t be held to the jury’s standards of ethics and behavior. Oh, Ringling had been smart. He wasn’t playing his client as a victim, he wasn’t playing him as somebody who’d been abused or suffered a traumatic childhood (he barely referred to the deaths of Kobel’s parents and brother).
No, he was showing that this thing at the defense table was not even human.
Like his expert said, “Mr. Kobel’s reality is not our reality.”
Hollow stretched his skinny legs out in front of him and watched the tassels on his loafers lean to the side. I’m going to lose this case, he reflected. I’m going to lose it. And that son of a bitch’ll be out in five or six years, looking for other women to stalk.
He was in despair.
Nemes…shit.
Then the judge turned away from his clerk and said, “Mr. Hollow? Shall we continue with your rebuttal of Mr. Ringling’s affirmative defense?”
It was then that a thought occurred to the prosecutor. He considered it for a moment and gasped at where the idea led.
“Mr. Hollow?”
“Your Honor, if possible, could we recess until tomorrow? The prosecution would appreciate the time.”
Judge Rollins debated. He looked at his watch. “All right. We’ll recess until nine A.M. tomorrow.”
Glenn Hollow thanked the judge and told his young associates to gather up the papers and take them back to the office. The prosecutor rose and headed out the door. But he didn’t start sprinting until he was well out of the courthouse; he believed that you never let jurors see anything but your dignified self.
AT A LITTLE AFTER nine the next morning, Glenn Hollow rose to his feet. “I’d like to call to the stand Dr. James Pheder.”
“Objection, Your Honor.” Bob Ringling was on his feet.
“Reasons?”
“We received notice of this witness last night at eight P.M. We haven’t had adequate time to prepare.”
“Where were you at eight?”
Ringling blinked. “Well, Your Honor, I…the wife and I were out to dinner.”
“At eight I was reading documents in this case, Mr. Ringling. And Mr. Hollow was-obviously-sending you notices about impending witnesses. Neither of us were enjoying the buffet line at House O’Ribs.”
“But-”
“Think on your feet, Counselor. That’s what you get paid those big bucks for. Objection overruled. Proceed, Mr. Hollow.”
Pheder, a dark-complexioned man with a curly mop of black hair and a lean face, took the oath and sat.
“Now, Mr. Pheder, could you tell us about your credentials?”
“Yessir. I have degrees in psychology and biology from the University of Eastern Virginia, the University of Albany, and Northern Arizona University.”
“All of which are accredited four-year colleges, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you do for a living?”
“I’m an author and lecturer.”
“Are you published?”
“Yessir. I’ve published dozens of books.”
“Are those self-published?”
“Nosir. I’m with established publishing companies.”
“And where do you lecture?”
“All over the country. At schools, libraries, bookstores, private venues.”
“How many people attend these lectures?” Hollow asked.
“Each one is probably attended by four to six hundred people.”
“And how many lectures a year do you give?”
“About one hundred.”
Hollow paused and then asked, “Are you familiar with the concept of neme?”
“Yessir.”
“Is it true that you coined that term?”
“Yessir.”
“What does it refer to?”
“I combined the words ‘negative’ and ‘meme.’ ‘Negative’ is just what it sounds like. ‘Meme’ is a common phenomenon in society, like a song or catchphrase, that captures the popular imagination. It spreads.”
“Give us the gist of the concept of neme, that’s n-e-m-e, if you would.”
“In a nutshell?”
“Oh, yessir. I got Cs in science. Make it nice and simple.”
Nice touch, Hollow thought of his improvisation. Science.
Pheder continued. “It’s like a cloud of energy that affects people’s emotions in destructive ways. You know how you’re walking down the street and you suddenly feel different? For no reason at all. Your mood swings. It could be caused by any number of things. But it might be a neme incorporating itself into your cerebrum.”
“And you say, ‘negative.’ So nemes are bad?”
“Well, bad is a human judgment. They’re neutral, but they tend to make us behave in ways society characterizes as bad. Take a case of swimming in the ocean. Sharks and jellyfish aren’t bad; they’re simply doing what nature intended, existing. But when they take a bite out of us or sting us, we call that bad. Nemes are the same. They make us do things that to them are natural but that we call evil.”
“And you’re convinced these nemes are real?”
“Oh, yessir. Absolutely.”
“Are other people?”
“Yes, many, many are.”
“Are these people scientists?”
“Some, yes. Therapists, chemists, biologists, psychologists.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Your witness, Mr. Ringling.”
The defense lawyer couldn’t, as it turned out, think on his feet, not very well. He was prepared for Hollow to introduce testimony by experts attacking his client’s claim of insanity.
He wasn’t prepared for Hollow to try to prove nemes were real. Ringling asked a few meaningless questions and let it go at that.
Hollow was relieved that he hadn’t explored Pheder’s history and credentials in other fields, including parapsychology and pseudoscience. Nor did he find the blog postings where Pheder claimed the lunar landings were staged in a film studio in Houston, or the ones supporting the theory that the Israelis and President George Bush were behind the 9/11 attacks. Hollow had particularly worried that Pheder’s essay about the 2012 apocalypse might surface.