Balance of Power

TWENTY-ONE

If the purpose of deposing an expert witness was to help him hang himself, Sarah meant to be as helpful as possible to Dr. Frederick Glass.

"Dr. Fred," as he cheerfully called himself, was as chipper as he was conservative, having risen from academic obscurity to prominence as a prolific contrarian who boldly challenged what he labeled "fatuous liberal orthodoxy." With the unflappable good nature of someone well pleased at the attention this had garnered, he proffered his research on topics ranging from the fallacy of affirmative action to the role of the entertainment industry as a purveyor of violence. His view of gun rights was summarized by the title of his seminal book More Guns, Less Death.

"In my opinion," Glass told her emphatically, "the Lexington P-2 has an affirmative social utility."

Dr. Fred, Sarah thought, was a bit too pleased with himself. "And what might that be?"

"It's small enough to be potentially concealable, at least in someone's briefcase. The laws licensing civilians to carry concealed weapons make all of us a whole lot safer."

Contemplating the witness, Sarah was aware of the quiet in Nolan's conference room, the attentiveness on the faces of Nolan and Harry Fancher. "Are you implying, Dr. Glass, that Inez Costello should have been carrying a Lexington P-2? Or that Joan Bowden should have had one in her handbag?"

The expression on Glass's round, cherubic face was unfazed, almost beatific. "That would have been up to them. But, in California, the right to carry concealed weapons is severely restricted. If they weren't, Bowden might have believed that someone—if not his intended victims—would take out a gun and shoot him. In which case, the First Lady's family might well be alive."

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "Because Bowden would have been afraid to fire a weapon? Or because some armed civilian might have drilled him once he did?"

"Either," Glass answered with a shrug. "Or both. Doesn't matter to me—any more, I imagine, than it would have mattered to the victims. If you'll permit me, Ms. Dash, you're caught up in the syndrome of blaming guns for crime." He paused, his manner combining patience with a certain evangelical fervor. "The real blame falls on the entertainment industry—many of whom, ironically enough, are President Kilcannon's principal supporters.

"Until children are six or seven, when they start to distinguish fantasy from reality, TV is very real, and killing is a normal and essential skill in a brutal and frightening world. That's why the Journal of American Medicine concluded that the introduction of television in the 1950s caused a doubling in the homicide rate when those children reached adulthood, and that long-term childhood exposure to TV is a causal factor behind roughly half the homicides committed in America . . ."

"Most of them with guns," Sarah interjected. "Isn't it true that the same rise in homicide rates coincided with a steep increase in handgun ownership?"

Glass shook his head in dismissal. "Have you ever heard of operant conditioning?"

For Sarah, it had become easy to imagine Glass taking over a courtroom. "You're the expert," she answered in an even tone. "Why don't you explain it."

"All right. In the army, we teach new soldiers to fire repetitively at man-shaped silhouettes which pop up again, over and over. Video games which simulate murder have much the same effect. If anything, the AMA has concluded, video games are worse than movies. Which," Glass added with obvious relish, "brings me to John Bowden.

"I've interviewed his parents. As a child, Bowden had unfettered access to television; as a teenager, he repetitively played video games, often well past midnight, which required him to kill his video opponents.

"His parents thought the only harm was to his grades. In my opinion, the ultimate harm was to the six people he murdered."

This opinion, and the implacable certainty with which Dr. Glass delivered it, convinced Sarah of how dangerous he was and, in her mind, how completely irresponsible. "In your opinion, Dr. Glass, were Bowden's repetitious beatings of Joan Bowden also attributable to video games?"

"Violence of any kind is a learned response. It's time for our society to control the purveyance of violent imagery to children, just as we control access to guns, pornography, tobacco, sex, and cars. A failure amplified, in Bowden's case, by society's decision not to jail him even though he was a clear and present danger to his wife. With this litany of failures, why in the world are you sitting here trying to blame a law-abiding manufacturer who didn't even know him?"

With this, Sarah resolved to abandon any pretense of politeness. "Then let's turn to your academic career, and, specifically, to your connection with the subject of guns. How many universities have employed you as a professor?"

As though prepared for this line of inquiry, Glass answered equably, "Five."

"And how many offered you tenure?"

"None. But I was only eligible for tenure at the University of Connecticut."

"Because the others let you go too quickly?"

The witness's smile resembled a grimace. "I'd classify the decision as mutual—their lack of real academic freedom, and my resistance to the prevailing liberal ideology."

Whatever, Sarah thought. Crisply, she asked, "For what reason did Connecticut deny you tenure?"

Glass steepled his fingers. "Their stated reason was that my academic research was 'insufficiently rigorous.' The actual reason was that I voiced forbidden thoughts."

"Such as your suggestion that women's suffrage has led to an increase in crime?"

The witness shrugged. "It's easy, Ms. Dash, to mock a statement isolated from the research which supports it. But it's a demonstrable fact that, since 1920, women's more permissive attitudes toward crime—as reflected in their voting patterns—has relegated crime prevention to a low priority compared to what I call 'the nurturing issues,' matters like education and health care. This has led to greater laxity among our elected officials and, as more women have ascended the bench, our judiciary."

"Then you'll be relieved to know, Dr. Glass, that I'm unlikely to become a judge. But I'm haunted by the concern that Mary Costello's family might have lived if only I'd refrained from voting."

"Don't worry," Glass responded airily. "Under your theory of shared responsibility, there's lots of blame to go around. Including an academic world which refuses to think forbidden thoughts."

"I gather that the Sons of the Second Amendment is more hospitable to forbidden thoughts. Since leaving the University of Connecticut, hasn't the principal financing for your research come from the SSA?"

"Yes. They believe, as I do, that financing is indispensable to competing in the marketplace of ideas. So they've placed me on retainer."

"For how much?"

"Five hundred thousand a year, for the next five years."

"That kind of money," Sarah remarked amiably, "will finance a lot of forbidden thoughts. Let's turn to one of them—your thesis that the more guns Americans own, the less crime we'll have.

"In More Guns, Less Death, you claim that concealed carry laws cause a drop in rape and murder, diverting criminals into property crimes like burglary. Has it ever occurred to you, Doctor, that a serial rapist won't consider stealing a transistor radio to be a fair exchange?"

Glass briskly put down the pencil, a first show of impatience. "What's your point?"

"That the pathology of a rapist is distinct from that of a burglar. Or did your courses in criminology skip that part?"

Glass mustered a renewed aura of dignified scholarship. "All of my education and experience suggests that criminals, by definition, are criminals—people unable to live within the laws. Depending on circumstance and motive, the particular crime may vary."

For the first time, Sarah gave John Nolan a long look of incredulity. Nolan remained impassive. Turning to the witness, Sarah said, "Let's discuss your methodology. On what basis did you conclude that, last year, there were roughly 2.5 million instances where Americans used guns in self-defense?"

"On the basis of a random—and therefore utterly objective—sampling: a telephone survey of five thousand heads of households."

Sarah cocked her head. "In other words, rather than relying on police reports, you relied on total strangers who reported their own behavior."

"Yes." Briefly, Glass ran his fingers through the stubble of his crew cut. "As experts in the field know, many acts of self-defense go unreported to authorities."

"In your survey, how many respondents reported acts of selfdefense?"

"Fifty-one."

"In other words, slightly over one percent of your respondents. How did you extrapolate 2.5 million acts of self-defense?"

"By applying the one percent of affirmative responses to our total adult population."

Pausing, Sarah smiled. "Do you happen to know how much of 'our total adult population' is considered mentally ill?"

"No."

"Try three percent. Did it dawn on you that a considerable number of the people who reported acts of self-defense might, instead, be crazy?"

Reaching for the water pitcher, Glass reminded her of Reiner. After a leisurely swallow of water, he said, "I have no reason to believe that."

"Or disbelieve it. So let's turn to the broader problem of selfreported acts of self-defense." Briefly, Sarah checked her notes. "For example, are you aware of a 1994 Harvard survey concerning acts of selfdefense in a five-year period, where fifty of those responding reported thirty-five acts of self-defense, comprising seventy percent of the incidents reported?"

Carefully, Glass placed down the water. "No."

"Then I'd suggest you read it." Briefly Sarah paused. "What about the Washington Post survey of fifteen hundred Americans as to whether they'd seen an alien spacecraft in the preceding year."

Glass mustered a wan smile. "I don't follow aliens, Ms. Dash."

"You might find it interesting. Accordingly to the Post, one hundred fifty-one of these respondents reported having seen an alien spacecraft— an affirmative response of ten percent."

Nolan turned to his witness. "As I said," Glass responded in a stubborn tone, "I'm not aware of that."

"So you're also unaware that sixteen people of those responding— approximately one percent—reported actual contact with an alien."

"Yes. Again."

Sarah's mouth twisted slightly, a smile suppressed. "Isn't it possible that your one percent was the same as the Post's one percent, and that what you came up with is the incidence of defensive uses of a gun against alien invaders?"

"Enough," Nolan cut in bitingly. "If you have a serious question, ask it."

"Silly answers," Sarah retorted, "tend to provoke silly questions. As does fuzzy math." Turning to Glass, Sarah asked coldly, "Are you at least aware that the New England Journal of Medicine reported that for every gun in the home, it is three times more likely that a family member will be killed than if the gun weren't there?"

"No."

"Or that such families showed roughly five homicides of family members for every act of self-defense?"

"Enough, counsel," Nolan interrupted. "He said no. Move on."

Sarah sat back with a smile. "Actually, John, I'm almost through. I've just identified a Martian, and I'm dying to report him."