“No, Your Honor,” Mitchell said.
“Submitted,” I said.
“Very well, we are going to continue with testimony from this witness,” Ruhlin said. “The objection is overruled for the time being. I will make my ruling on the defense motion for mistrial tomorrow morning. Mr. Haller, you may continue with your witness.”
We turned and headed back to our respective spots. I took my place at the lectern and addressed the witness.
“Professor Spindler, you testified that the way the word hero was used by Wren in a text caught your attention and that you found it spelled that way in an incel glossary. Do I have that right?”
“Yes, I actually found it in several online glossaries and in some reporting on the incel movement.”
“Were you already familiar with the incel movement?”
“Insofar as it has come up in the sensitivity training conducted annually for Caltech employees by the human resources department.”
“So, then, what is your understanding of what an incel is?”
Mitchell Mason objected, saying the witness’s expert testimony did not extend to incels. I argued that the sensitivity training he took at Caltech qualified him to testify to what his knowledge was. The judge sustained the objection and told me to find another way to get to the question.
“Professor Spindler, you have authored several papers on artificial intelligence for academic publications, correct?” I asked.
“Yes,” Spindler said. “It’s publish or perish in academia.”
“And many of these are about the inherent biases in AI training, true?”
“True.”
“Have you written about misogyny and incels in any of these papers?”
“I published a paper last year about misogyny, and it made mention of the incel subculture.”
“Then can you tell the jury what an incel is?”
Mitchell Mason objected again but this time was overruled. I had found my way in.
“You can answer the question, Professor,” I said.
“Incel is a term associated with men who espouse hostility toward women,” he said. “Incel is short for ‘involuntary celibate.’ It is primarily an online subculture. These are mostly young men who have been unable to attract women sexually, and they blame it on women.”
“So, when you tracked the word hero spelled with a capital E and R to various incel glossaries, did you find an explanation as to why it was spelled or formatted that way?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what was that explanation?”
“I learned that it is a reference to the initials of Elliot Rodger, a man who killed several people near Santa Barbara ten years ago in what he called an act of retribution against women who had rejected him. In the incel culture, he is considered a hero. A saint, even. Thus they spell the word hero with a capital E and R.”
It was another moment when the quiet courtroom seemed to get quieter. I let it sink in for a few seconds before pressing on.
“Now, going back to the text chain between Wren and Aaron Colton,” I said. “The word hero is spelled that way twice. Your testimony is that this could not be a coincidence?”
“I suppose it could be, but the more likely explanation is that it was spelled that way in the original data used in the training program. In other words, it was in the code and not something the chatbot styled on its own. It retrieved the word in that format.”
Mitchell Mason objected again on grounds that there was no evidence supporting the witness’s statement and that it called for speculation. Ruhlin sustained the objection and instructed the jury to ignore Spindler’s last answer. But the damage to the Masons’ case was done. Spindler’s theme of garbage in, garbage out was a message that would stick. I felt confident of that.
“No further questions,” I said.
41
The defense did not proceed with a cross-examination of Michael Spindler but reserved the right to call him back to the witness stand during the defense phase of the trial. This surprised me, because I thought that Spindler’s direct testimony had been damaging enough to warrant an immediate response. But maybe they needed more time to figure out how to come at him and knock down his credibility. Either way, the court session ended early when I told Judge Ruhlin that I had been surprised by the defense’s move and that my next witness, Nathan Whittaker, was not in the courthouse.
“Mr. Haller, I expect in the future that you will have your next witness ready no matter what decisions opposing counsel make,” she said. “Am I clear?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” I said.
“Very well, then, court is recessed until nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Please have your witness ready to go.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
I didn’t mind being chastised by the judge in front of the jury. I had a feeling they were happy to be released early. It had been a day of complex testimony, and a head start on the freeways out of downtown would be welcome.
It had been a good day. I felt the momentum of the case was building and would come to a big finish for the jury with the testimony from Whittaker. But after the jury withdrew, the judge called the attorneys to chambers, and I was reminded that my good day also included my being held in contempt of court.
In chambers, the judge told us not to bother taking our usual seats.
“This will be quick,” she said. “But I did not feel the need to discuss it in open court. Mr. Haller, I will hold the order of contempt in abeyance until the end of trial. I hope this will help you comport yourself and your witnesses in accordance with court protocol and respect.”
This meant that she would hold my punishment over my head till the verdict came in, with me knowing that she would multiply the penalty if I stepped out of line along the way.
“Your Honor, I would rather face the music now,” I said, “instead of having it hanging over me.”
“Well, that’s not how I’ve chosen to handle it. Any other questions?”
“Uh, no.”
“All right. You gentlemen are dismissed until nine o’clock tomorrow. Have a good evening.”
An hour later I got home to an empty house and immediately went to the back office to sketch out my examination of Whittaker, which I hoped would clinch the case. I was aware as I wrote questions on a fresh legal pad that the Mason brothers were probably meeting with the Tidalwaiv coder at the same time and prepping him for some of the very same questions. But I hoped that they ultimately didn’t know what I knew, thanks to the digging of Jack McEvoy.
Maggie got home late, but to my surprise it was not because she had gone out to Altadena on her way home. Instead, she had had after-work drinks at the Redbird with a few of her most trusted prosecutors and then stopped by Koi on her way home to pick up sushi and miso-glazed black cod for us to share. It was a quiet evening, no TV and no interruptions, until my phone dinged with an email from Judge Ruhlin’s clerk ordering all attorneys in the Tidalwaiv case to a meeting in chambers at eight o’clock the following morning. There was no explanation for the summons, but I didn’t expect that it would be anything good.
After a restless night, I was in the courtroom at the appointed time with the Mason brothers, who professed to know nothing about the reason for the meeting. Finally, at ten minutes after the hour, Ruhlin’s clerk told us the judge was ready to see us.
The judge was seated behind her desk and we took our usual chairs. Her black robe was on a hanger hooked to a coatrack in the corner behind her desk.