Several hours after the arraignment, a guard let Gary into the attorney-client interview room at the jail.
"Can I go home now?" Gary asked as soon as he saw Peter.
"No, Gary. I've explained this all to you before.
You're charged with murder, so there isn't any way you can get out of jail for a while."
Gary looked agitated. "How will I do my job?
I "Gary, you've got to focus on what's important.
Okay? We're talking about your life here. That job at the college is just a janitor's job. That job isn't important."
"Oh no, my Job is important," Gary told Peter with great seriousness. "Mom says every job is important and my job is very important. There are germs.
They are very small. You can't see them. They make people sick.
I scrub and scrub. I clean away the germs. I make the floor shine so you can see your face. I take out the garbage so the room won't smell bad. If I don't do my job people will be sick, the room will smell."
Gary grew more agitated as he spoke. Peter was surprised by how serious Gary was about his work. He felt a little bad about putting down his job.
"Look, Gary," Peter said gently, "I'm sure they have someone filling in for you. Someone to clean away the germs and take out the garbage until you can come back."
"Is someone taking my job?" Gary asked. He was pacing back and forth. "I want my job."
"No, no. No one is taking your job. Listen to me. Did I help you when you were arrested for looking at that girl?"
Gary nodded, but his eyes were darting back and forth with worry.
"Did Steve and I make sure you kept your job?"
Gary stopped pacing. He looked less worried.
"Gary, do you think Steve and I will let them take your job?"
"You helped me keep my job," Gary said, relaxing a little.
"Right. Your job is important, Gary. It's very important. The college needs you to do that job. They won't let anyone take your job because you're so good at it.
Okay? But you won't be able to go back at all unless you help me."
Gary's breathing settled. He stopped pacing.
"Now, why don't you si down and we'll take that it first step toward getting you out of here so you can work." Peter indicated one of the metal chairs on the other side of the wooden table. Gary sat down obediently. He wiped the palms of his hands on his jumpsuit and waited for Peter to continue. Peter sighed with relief then pointed to several tape cassettes and the stack of police reports he had reviewed over the past few hours.
"I've received some discovery from the district attorney and I wanted to go over it with you. I've read a summary of the statement you made to Sergeant Downes and I've listened to a few of the tapes of your interrogation. I want you to tell me again how you know so much about this murder."
"It's in . y powers."
"Your supernatural and subconscious minds?"
Gary nodded. Peter shifted uncomfortably on the metal chair as he searched for the words he wanted to say. Gary watched him hopefully. Peter felt sorry for his client. He wondered what it must be like to go through life with the mind of a very slow child. What did Gary think about? Did he think at all without a st'mulus? Was Gary nothing more than a machine with malfunctioning circuits? Were the rich patterns of life mere shadows for him? Or was there more to Gary than was apparent at first? According to the police reports, Gary had flown into a rage when Karen Nix insulted his intelligence.
Would a machine care what a person thought of its capabilities?
Peter had thought a lot about the fame and fortune Gary's case could bring him, but very little about Gary Harmon. At first, he was even put off by his client. Peter liked to be around intelligent, well-educated and presentable people. People on the go. People like himself before the Elliot case. Peter would never associate with someone like Gary under normal circumstances, but Peter found Gary's childlike dependence on him endearing as well as flattering. After the way he had been treated at Hale, Greaves, it was nice being appreciated.
Peter stopped musing and looked directly at Gary.
Gary met his eye without wavering.
"Gary, I want you to listen carefully to what I'm going to say." Gary leaned forward expectantly. "You do not have any special powers."
Peter waited for a response. Gary looked confused.
When he didn't reply, Peter pushed on.
"Do you understand what Sergeant Downes did to you?"
Gary shook his head. Peter tried to think of a diplomatic way of breaking the bad news to Gary.
"I'm your friend, Gary. Do you trust me?"
"Yeah."
"And you know if I say something that hurts your feelings, I'm saying it because I have to in order to save you?"
Gary nodded, again.
"Okay. Do you understand that you aren't as smart as some other people?"
Gary flushed, but he nodded.
"Do mean people take advantage of you sometimes?
Play tricks on you or try to fool you?"
"Yeah. I don't like them mean people. They hurt my feelings."
"Gary, Sergeant Downes played a trick on you. He took advantage of you. He said you have supernatural powers, but you don't."
Gary's expression was blank for a moment. Then his brow furrowed.
"How did I see the murder if I don't have powers?"
"There are only two explanations I can think of, Gary. Either you murdered Sandra Whiley ..
"Oh no, Mr. Hale. I couldn't do that."
or you made up what you said."
"No. I didn't make it up. I seen it."
"Sergeant Downes told you to imagine what you saw in your head, didn't he?"
"Yeah.
"That's all it was, Gary. Your imagination.
"But it seemed so real."
"Do me a favor. Close your eyes."
Gary obeyed Peter's request.
"Now this room. Do you have it?"
Gary nodded.
"What time of year is it?"
"Summer."
"In your mind, imagine it's winter." Peter waited a few seconds. "Can you see snow on the window? Is it cold?"
"Yeah.
"Now, imagine Santa Claus is in this room with us.
Do you see him? Can you see the icicles hanging from his beard? Can you see the twinkle in his eye?"
Gary smiled.
"Gary, have you ever seen Santa in this jail?"
"No."
"But you're seeing him in the jail now."
"That ain't .. ."
Gary stopped. His eyes opened slowly. The smile faded to a look of puzzlement.
"Do you see what Sergeant Downes did to you? Do you understand it now?"
"I ... I know I seen something. I know I seen two people in the park when I passed by."
"Can you swear you saw Sandra Whiley?"
Gary shook his head. He looked dejected. Peter's heart went out to him.
"This is our job, then. To find out what you really saw and what you made up. It's going to be a hard job, but we're going to work together and we're going to do it. Will you work with me, Gary? Will you help me?"
"Yes I will, Mr. Hale. I'll try real hard."
"Good, Gary. That's a start."
it was almost five o'clock when Peter left the jail. Working with Gary was exhausting. He was so open to suggestion that Peter had to watch every word, and he could never be certain if Gary really understood him or was nodding'to be polite. Representing Gary Harmon was going to be very frustrating and very time consuming.
As he walked up the stairs to Geary's office, Peter checked his watch. He was going to Steve's house after dinner to discuss strategy. There were all sorts of technical defenses, like diminished capacity, they might employ with a guilty client with Gary's intelligence. After today's session with Gary, Peter was wondering if they shouldn't dispense with them and go with a straight not guilty on the grounds that Gary did not commit the crime.
The autopsy report described the carnage to Sandra Whiley in graphic detail.