Jodi Picoult - House Rules

“Thank you,” I say. “Nothing further.”

Helen Sharp stands up. She is easily six feet tall. Did I not notice that when she walked in? “Your son… has he ever been incarcerated before?”

“No!” Emma answers.

“Has he ever been arrested before?”

“No.”

“Are there other times you’ve witnessed a backslide in your son’s behavior?”

“Yes,” Emma says. “When plans change at the last minute. Or when he’s upset and can’t verbalize that.”

“Then isn’t it possible that his current behavior has nothing to do with incarceration, and everything to do with him feeling guilty for committing a horrific crime?”

Heat floods Emma’s face. “He would never do what you’ve accused him of doing.”

“Maybe, ma’am, but at this point your son’s been charged with first-degree murder. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Emma says tightly.

“And your son has been placed in protective custody, so his safety isn’t at issue-”

“If his safety wasn’t at issue, would he have to be in a padded cell in the first place?” Emma retorts, and I want to run up there and give her a high five.

“Nothing further,” the prosecutor says.

I stand up again. “The defense calls Dr. Moon Murano.”

Jacob’s psychiatrist’s name may sound like that of someone who grew up on a commune, but that was her parents. She must have rebelled and joined the Young Republicans, because she’s turned up for court in a power suit, killer heels, and a bun so tight it is practically functioning as a face-lift. I walk her through her credentials and then ask her how she knows Jacob.

“I’ve been working with him for fifteen years,” she says. “In conjunction with his Asperger’s diagnosis.”

“Tell us a little about Asperger’s,” I say.

“Well, the syndrome was discovered by Dr. Hans Asperger in 1944, but it wasn’t known in the English-speaking world until the late 1980s, and it wasn’t classified as a psychiatric disorder until 1994. Technically, it’s a neurobiological disorder that affects several areas of development. Unlike some other children on the autism spectrum, kids with Asperger’s are very bright and verbal and crave social acceptance… they just don’t know how to get it. Their conversations might be one-sided; they might be focused on a very narrow topic of interest; they might use repetitive language or a monotone voice. They won’t be able to read social cues or body language and therefore can’t identify the feelings of people around them. Because of this, someone with Asperger’s is often considered to be odd or eccentric, which leads to social isolation.”

“Well, Doctor, there are a lot of folks in the world who are odd or eccentric and haven’t been diagnosed with Asperger’s, right?”

“Of course.”

“So how do you diagnose it?”

“It’s theory of mind: the child who chooses privacy versus the child who can’t connect but wants to, desperately, and cannot put himself in the shoes of another child to better understand how to facilitate that.” She glances at the judge. “Asperger’s is a developmental disability, but it’s a hidden one. Unlike, for example, a mentally challenged individual, a child with Asperger’s might look normal and even sound fairly normal and appear incredibly competent, yet he will have crippling difficulties with communication and social interaction.”

“Doctor, how often do you see Jacob?” I ask.

“I used to see him weekly when he was younger, but now we’re down to once a month.”

“And he’s a senior in public school?”

“That’s correct.”

“So he doesn’t have any educational delays due to his Asperger’s?”

“No,” Dr. Murano says. “As a matter of fact, Jacob’s IQ is probably higher than yours, Mr. Bond.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Helen Sharp murmurs.

“Does Jacob have any special accommodations at school?”

“He has an individualized education plan-an IEP-which is mandated by law for children with disabilities. Ms. Hunt and I meet with the principal and Jacob’s teachers four times a year to review strategies that will help him function well at school. What’s normal to certain high school students would set Jacob off into a tailspin.”

“Such as?”

“Commotion in a classroom is going to be very overwhelming for Jacob. Flashing lights. Being touched. Crumpled paper. Something that’s unexpected in terms of sensation-like darkness in preparation for a video or film-is hard for Jacob if he doesn’t know in advance that it’s going to happen,” Murano says.

“So his accommodations are meant to keep him from becoming overstimulated?”

“Exactly.”

“How’s he doing in school this year?”

“He got all A’s and one B the first semester,” Dr. Murano says.

“Before he was incarcerated,” I ask, “when was the last time you saw Jacob?”

“Three weeks ago, for a routine visit.”

“How was Jacob doing?”

“Very, very well,” the psychiatrist says. “In fact, I commented to Ms. Hunt that Jacob initiated a conversation with me, instead of the other way around.”

“And this morning?”

“This morning, when I saw Jacob, I was appalled. I haven’t seen him in a state like this since he was three years old. You need to understand, this is something chemical in his brain, mercury poisoning of a sort, caused by vaccinations-”

Oh crap.

“-it’s only the diligent biomedical treatment regimen and Emma Hunt’s commitment to her son’s social interaction that’s brought Jacob to the point he was prior to incarceration. You know who really ought to be tossed in jail? The drug companies that are getting rich off the vaccinations that triggered a wave of autism in the nineties-”

“Objection!” I yell.

“Mr. Bond,” the judge says, “you can’t object to your own witness.”

I smile, but it’s really a grimace. “Dr. Murano, thanks for your political opinion, but I don’t think that’s necessary right now.”

“But it is. I’m seeing the same pattern: a sweet, interactive, social child has suddenly isolated himself, removing himself from stimuli, not interacting with people. We don’t know enough about the autistic brain to understand what it is that brings these kids back to us, and why only some of them manage to return. But we do understand that a severely traumatic incident-like incarceration-can lead to a permanent regression.”

“Do you have any reason to believe that if Jacob was released to the care of his mother, he’d be a danger to himself or others?”

“Absolutely not,” Dr. Murano says. “He follows rules to the letter. In fact, that’s an Asperger’s trait.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” I finish.

Helen Sharp taps her pen on the desk in front of her. “Dr. Murano, you just referred to Jacob as a boy, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose I did.”

“Well, he’s actually eighteen years old.”

“That’s true.”

“He’s legally an adult,” Helen says. “He’s responsible for his actions, isn’t he?”

“We all know there’s a chasm between legal responsibility and emotional capacity.”

“Does Jacob have a guardian?” Helen asks.

“No, he has a mother.”

“Has his mother applied to be his legal guardian?”

“No,” Dr. Murano says.

“Have you applied to be his legal guardian?”

“Jacob only turned eighteen a month ago.”

The prosecutor stands up. “You said that it’s very important to have Jacob adhere to a stable routine?”

“It’s critical,” the psychiatrist says. “Not knowing what’s happening to him right now is likely what led to this breakdown.”