by Frank Kale
by Frank Kale
Chapter One
Cambridge, MA: As Zachary considered hiring a packing service to empty his office, there was a knock on his already-open door. Looking up from a pile of papers, he saw Professor Byrne from the economics department.
“This is a sad day. Economists everywhere are indebted to your early research,” said Professor Byrne, in what seemed a prepared remark, sounding much like the blurb on the back of a book.
Zachary smiled and tried to overlook that Joseph had praised his early, not recent, research.
“Joseph we have had some good times here, and we will always have those memories. Thank You.”
It was a complete lie. But Zachary knew that Professor Byrne would search for such memories of shared good times, and having found none, he would feel just awkward enough to leave, something he did after a slight bow. It was actually the third person Zachary had used the line on today, and again he wondered if he should simply call a packing service to empty his office.
Another knock: this time a student.
“May I come in?” she asked.
Zachary nodded with a slight grimace.
“You don’t remember me do you?” she asked.
“I’m sorry.”
“You wrote me a letter of recommendation,” said the student.
“Was it good?” Zachary asked.
“Yes, quite flattering,” said the student.
“Good,” said Zachary throwing his hands in the air. “What can I do for you? As you can see I am packing right now.”
“I don’t mean to intrude. I was in your Cognitive Science Class 2 years ago. You really liked my papers, and that it why I asked you for a recommendation to write for Harvard Magazine,” she said.
“Did you make the cut?”
“I have been writing there for two years now. I’d hoped that you had noticed,” said the student.
“Remind me of your name,” said Zachary.
“Jenny Chomar,” said the student.
“Jenny, Yes. I remember now. Well, what can I do for you? Do you need another letter of recommendation?” said Zachary jokingly, having guessed the turn that the conversation was about to take.
“No, it isn’t that,” said Jenny. “I was wondering…”
“If you could interview me for the magazine,” said Zachary with a nod.
“Yes, it would be an honor to be able to…”
“Let me stop you right there Jenny. You are an insightful student, so I’m sure you understand that I am reluctant to put myself in a situation that could contribute more sensationalism to the situation,” said Zachary, while wondering why he had agreed to an interview with Jasmine Jackson from City Times Radio 1040. Perhaps it was because he religiously listened to her show and there was a fight in her voice that periodically gave him the chills.
“Well then can I just ask you a couple of questions?” said Jenny. “I’ll be writing an article in any case.”
“I may not answer them, but you can ask,” said Zachary.
Would I have yielded had it been a pimply male undergraduate at my door?
She opened her notebook.
Probably searching for her juiciest questions…
“Oh no, I left my questions in my car,” said Jenny.
“Well, you will just have to do it on the fly,” said Zachary.
“They might not be worded the way I would have worded them,” said Jenny.
“Give it a shot.”
“Okay here goes,” she said, drawing in a deep breath as if she were about to dive for a pearl. “Your research on decision making was a landmark development for general psychology and has been applied to many disciplines such as economics and computer science. However, you drew criticism when you used the results of your research in a practical experiment during your application for professorship here, and which you yourself admitted in a public letter to Dean Smith that caused you to rethink whether you had breached an ethical line, given that you used your research to sway the decision making of the Harvard Professorship committee. Considering your current resignation from Harvard University, has the current ethical situation caused you to rethink what occurred ten years ago during your application process for professorship, and if so were your conclusions different than they were ten years ago? In short, do you still think it was ethical that you used, in the words of a psychology department colleague ‘A sort of Jedi Mind Control that influenced an unknowing and unsuspecting committee to vote in favor of professorship approval?’”
“Wow. Only a Harvard kid could have done that without a note pad. I see why I wrote you a letter of recommendation. I liked your ironic use of ‘In short’ too,” said Zachary rolling up his sleeves and puckering his lips, taking what would be one of his last glances out his window at the Harvard Green. In a flash of remembrance, he saw the moment to which she was referring. In the peer reviewed psychology world Zachary Dunbar had become a rock star at the age of 27 with the publication of an 18 page paper with the unassuming title, “Decision Making.”
The crux of the paper was the hypothesis that a small group of individuals given likely and unlikely decisions and needing unanimity would choose the most unlikely decision more often than they would choose a less unlikely or a likely decision. It was a theory that defied every known law of probability and yet through a double blind study in which small groups were induced to make likely or unlikely decisions, nearly 65% of the time, it was the most unlikely decision that prevailed.
In a clever twist, Zachary had used the clinical implications of his research during the Harvard professorship interview process by concluding that, given his youth and the controversial nature of his still very much recent research, he was the most unlikely candidate, and then using his unlikely status to present himself to the interviewers as even more unlikely, which, as he projected, propelled him into the top position. It was when he wrote a short paper about his strategy that the ethical questions, some from the defeated professorship applicants, began to appear. Ultimately the school decided that there had been no ethical violation and Zachary reached the same conclusion.
Zachary continued, “My conclusion today is the same as it was ten years ago. I know this is disappointing for you. It would be more interesting if my view had changed. Honestly, I thought then, as I think know, that my interviewers should have been familiar enough with my research, given that they might be hiring me for a position, to have discovered what it was that I was attempting. Therefore, I don’t think it was a “Jedi Mind Trick” at all. The fact that it worked – well that just gave increased informal credibility to my research, and was another reason to hire me.”
“Thank you,” said Jenny, who then glanced down at her digital recorder to ensure it had been recording. “Secondly, given that you believe that you have currently breached an ethical violation of the Harvard Research community through your use of human subjects for a matter, namely Trait Theory, which you have now deemed sufficient reason for your resignation, how do you reconcile --.”
�
�I can’t do this right now…
“Sorry but I’m leaving,” interrupted Zachary.
“But my second question?” said Jenny.
“Send me an email,” said Zachary, suddenly leaving his office with only a single plant in his hands. Taking out his cell phone, he called Cambridge Cleaners. They agreed to pack and empty his office for $150.
Life would be different. There would be no more mentioning at cocktails parties that yes he was a Harvard professor, and no it wasn’t the Harvard extension school, and yes tenure was a possibility, and no it was not a snobby institution, and yes…and so on and so forth, questions which he pretended were an annoyance, but which his heart of hearts knew as flattery. There would be no more waking up in the morning, putting shaving cream on his face, and before moving the razor down his cheek saying to himself: Yes it is early in the morning but you are a Harvard Professor my friend. There would be no more going to family parties and being identified to distant relatives as: the Harvard Professor. There would be no more hearing a recent girlfriend whisper on the phone to her mother: yes he is a professor, guess, no, no, yes at Harvard.
He still had his business: Dunbar and Associates – though now it might be a curse that his name was the company name. Would the fallout from his current disgrace cause the company to go under? The accountant thought it doubtful, though only time would tell. His partners, Omar and Samantha Smith, had been mainly supportive, though he could sense the tension rising.
On a whim, he placed his plant on a bench and entered the COOP bookstore, the place where, prior to the internet, most Harvard students bought textbooks. His seminal work, “On Decisions,” had been due in paperback for months. Perhaps today would be the day his publisher would ship paperback copies of his book all over the country, so that in a few years they could be remanded, as the bookstores did not actually buy them, and for that matter neither did the public. It perplexed him that the publisher had decided to issue a paperback edition at all because sales for the hardcover had been laughably small. But who was he to argue with free promotion? Somewhat timidly, Zachary approached a clerk stocking the non-fiction shelves.
“I have a couple of books on your shelves and one of them is due in paperback. I was wondering if it has arrived?” asked Zachary.
They walked to the psychology section. The clerk looked but he could not find the paperback edition. “I’ll check the computer.”
“That isn’t necessary. I was just wondering…”
Glancing over the current psychology titles, Zachary noticed his business partner’s book: All is Fair. For months, Zachary had promised Samantha that he would read it. Could this finally be the time? After locating a cozy corner, he opened the book (his signed copy sat on the dresser by his bed) and the dedication read:
For:
Zachary Dunbar
Friend and Colleague
Without Whose Guidance This Labor of Love Never Would Have Been Finished
He felt a cold sweat growing about his temples. No one had informed him of the dedication. Now he was sure that she was sure that his signed copy hadn’t even been opened, otherwise he would have thanked her. A groaning in his mind grew louder until he released an actual groan.
Samantha was a woman he admired very much. She had a sharp mind and on many occasions forced him to question his own assumptions. Her primary area of research was love – an emotion that she had charted to be so nebulous she had renamed it “The murky noise” in some of her writings. Mostly, he found her research fascinating, especially her undergraduate research concerning inherent acoustic beauty predications patterns, such as pretty women having pretty voices. But he often did not agree with the implications of her conclusions. Research is concerned with conclusions, and book writing is concerned with the implications of conclusions. If she over-reached he would mentally criticize her at every turn and he did not want to mentally criticize his friend and business partner. Worse, he had no poker face and she was readily adept at reading micro-expressions. The truth would not remain hidden from her once he read the book and she asked him his opinion.
Therefore, the logical solution was to not read the book. But it was only a temporary solution. However, delaying is making a decision not to make a decision, which is a paradox, and paradoxes may have been elegant solutions for ancient eastern thinkers but they don’t fly as excuses for 21st century women, Zachary noted, before skipping the guilt inducing dedication and reading her first line, “Lovers learn loving through the act of loving, much as infants learn walking through the act of walking.”
One line and already he had a problem. Some people read and accept. But for Zachary every statement was a challenge, a duel. Devil’s advocate was a position he slipped into as easily as socks. His mind continually rotated, revolved and pulsed in an unceasing intellectual inquisition that could not help but consider the alternatives of any thought said, written, or whispered. At that point in time in the book store he was questioning why he was questioning. Was it an essential part of his identity? Was he the quintessential contrarian? In any case, he couldn’t help but deconstruct that first line. The essence of the line was the opposite of his theory, Trait Theory. He shut the book, thinking about Trait theory and how it had caused his resignation to come about:
A sophomore slump occurred after Zachary accepted his Harvard Professorship in 1998. His Unlikely Decision Making Theory had gained more ground as other practitioners duplicated and confirmed his research, and although Harvard offered to generously fund a new research topic, Zachary had no idea what line of research to pursue. He read voraciously in hopes of a Eureka moment, but inspiration did not strike.
After reaching the conclusion that his approach at unearthing a research topic was too timid (reading stuff), he took a sabbatical in order to accompany an MIT research team to Southern Thailand. They were pursuing a question about muscle memory through the study of Mui Thai boxing, a sport similar to American Kickboxing.
The head of the research team, Timothy Moore, was an old friend of Zachary’s. They had been undergraduates together and during that time Zachary had noted that Timothy never missed an opportunity to impress a girl. But that had been many years prior and since that time surely Timothy had matured, Zachary predicted.
However, after a few hours on the island, Zachary noted that Timothy reverted to his undergraduate showmanship-self whenever any female, but especially whenever a pretty brown haired undergraduate intern named Sally, was within ten paces.
As soon as they had docked their boats Timothy ripped off his shirt, practically Hulk Hogan style, revealing a badly done spray on tan. The sucking in of his gut occurred with such fervor that his face was perpetually pinched in a look of sub-glottal pain. Although they had nothing to do for the first day except unpack, Timothy demanded that the entire research team accompany him on a tour of the island, conducted by him, by memory, due to his studying of maps on the plane. They were lost within minutes and had to return to their bungalows by backtracking through a swamp.
Day two Timothy instigated a blow-out argument with his American subject who was supposed to have all sorts of electrodes and monitors attached to him while he engaged in Mui Thai fighting against the locales. After the offended case study subject took an early flight home, there was no one to analyze during Mui Thai fights. Never one to miss an opportunity, Timothy attached the electrodes to himself and entered the ring. It could have been bad luck, the pre-match taunting, or a combination of both, but within 30 seconds Timothy’s nose was broken and his left knee was shattered – and 30 seconds did not give the team enough data to write a research article.
After Timothy was airlifted off the island, the research continued at a less intense pace. Somehow, the pretty intern coaxed Zachary into entering the ring. Zachary found an interpreter
and paid him 200 Baht to inform the fighter he would be facing, “Please do not hurt me. I have no clue what I am doing. This is somehow for research.” And considering the turn of events that was better than taunting.
Zachary had no punching or kicking training. Yet through agile movements and pleading looks, he remained in the ring long enough, over four sessions, for sufficient data to be gathered. Unfortunately, the research question did not interest him. It was more technical than psychological. What had interested him about the trip was the chance to clear his mind and to hopefully look at the world from a perspective that would yield a research question, and if not, what the hell, he’d have had a nice vacation in Thailand.
After his second session in the ring, an older Thai fighter who spoke English told Zachary that he thought he had “good chin.” This was a term that Zachary was familiar with, as it originated in the States. It meant a fighter who did not give up easily. There is no way for a fighter to know if he has “good chin”, or if he can take a lot of punches and kicks, until he puts his body to the test in an actual fight.
This got Zachary thinking. Why was it that some fighters had “good chin” and some did not? All fighters had expertly trained bodies. All fighters attempted to eat the right foods. Was “good chin” an inherited trait? Could it be traced back to a fighter’s parents?
With the help of the old fighter, Zachary divided the fighters at the gym into different levels of “chin.” Then he paid a guide to locate the fighter’s parents and brought an interpreter along with him. The results were astounding, and he kept the data and his question a secret from the rest of the research group, not because feared someone in the group would steal his nascent question, but because he wanted to fully analyze his preliminary interview data and decide his next course of action before revealing what he had stumbled upon.
What his interview data suggested was threefold: (1) parents pass traits to children that have been forged during times of high-stress (2) parents do not pass traits to children that are forged during low-stress, or that emerge in high-stress situations after the female is impregnated, and (3) the children may never display the traits – similar high stress situations seem needed to tease them out. In other words, fighters who had parents who were fighters in their youth had better “chin” than those who did not.
It was an instinctual statement – yet something that had never been put to the test, and Zachary considered calling it the like-father-like-son theory, but decided against that name because of the nuances in the theory that pointed to many situations where a father and son could be quite dissimilar, and eventually decided upon the term Trait Theory.
Upon returning to Cambridge, Zachary immediately contacted Samantha and suggested that they collaborate. She agreed to meet him for coffee, but to his dismay all she really wanted to talk about were the rumors about Timothy, who she had also known, and even (Zachary hated to admit) dated for a period of time during their undergraduate years.
The rumors of his buffoonery were confirmed by Zachary, who didn’t find them nearly as humorous as Samantha and he wondered why she was so pleased by his misery – a shattered knee is no laughing matter. However, he avoided the subject of that old romance as it would lead to a subject even farther from Trait Theory, so he tried his best to explain his theory and his reasons for believing she would make a skillful collaborator. After his fervent pitch, she humbly declined, explaining that although Trait Theory sounded intriguing, she needed to focus her attention on her own research.
What followed for Zachary were seven solitary years working with mice in the laboratory. From time to time other members of the faculty would stop in to check on his progress – but he was on his own – he couldn’t even inspire the service of an undergraduate research assistant for more than one week at a time: they always seemed to quit. That progress was slow was an understatement. However, progress was being made. It wasn’t the sort of progress that would win the attention of a blonde at a bar, Zachary noted, but it was progress nevertheless.
The key to gathering evidence for his theory had been the observations of two sets of mice children. The first set of mice children served as the control. They were born before a stressful event was introduced to produce a trait in the parent. The incidence of the trait in these mice children should be no higher than in the general population of mice. The second group of mice, the variable group, was born after the stressful event was introduced to produce a trait in the parent, and this group of mice, according to trait theory, should have carried the trait with an incidence that was higher than in the general population.
Hundreds of experiments were performed, such as experiment 17: A male mouse is placed at one end of a long corridor. Mouse feed is placed at the other end of the corridor. He has not had any food to eat for one day. Inevitably, the mouse sniffs his way to the opposite end of the corridor and eats the feed. This goes on for weeks until the mouse is well trained to the fact that all he has to do is make his way down a corridor and he is able to eat a hearty meal every other day. Furthermore, he is provided water every day, not just the days he is placed in the corridor. No stress has been introduced into this mouse’s life. He is a relaxed and contented mouse. At this point in time he is mated with a relaxed and contented female mouse, one who has been receiving her food the same way as the male mouse, every other day by making her way down a corridor. The children that the female births are group A, the control group.
After it has been determined that the male mouse has successfully impregnated the female mouse, he is placed back into the corridor, but now the stressful event is introduced. Previously, the mouse had been able to lollygag down the corridor and receive his feed -- no more. Now ten seconds after the mouse is place at his end of the corridor an impassible steel wall is swiftly raised at the half way point of the corridor. If the mouse does not sprint he will remain stuck on the side where there is no feed, and will not get a chance to eat -- by sprinting past the timed wall -- for another two days. This goes on for weeks until the mouse becomes trained to the fact that in order to eat, he must sprint down the corridor. The wall is timed just right, so that some days, if he slips, or just isn’t sprinting at his maximum potential, he slams into the wall and does not make it past. He no longer eats every other day. At some points he must wait 4 or 6 days to eat his mouse feed. This mouse is now a stressed mouse. However, through the introduction of this stressful event he has also developed a trait: he has become an able sprinter. At this point he is mated with a female mouse, one who is also stressed and has also become an able sprinter through the same exercise. The children that the female births are group B, the variable group.
Next, the children, group A and group B, are tested. One by one they are placed in the corridor. The same exercise is performed. At first they are able to eat by just lollygagging down the corridor and later they must sprint. However, a twist is introduced: the timed wall now rises after only 8 seconds instead of 10. For the parents of group A and group B, a wall which shut after 10 seconds had produced intermittent results – some days they made it past and some days they did not. According to trait theory group B should have had better results sprinting past the 8 second wall than group A, because in essence group B had inherited a sprinting trait from their parents, while group A had not inherited a sprinting trait from their parents.
And the data supported this prediction: Group A made it past the 8 second wall 55% of the time, while group B made it past the 8 second wall 90% of the time. Group B had become better sprinters merely because their parents, before they birthed them, had become better sprinters.
These results were not an aberration, through hundreds of experiments Zachary tested every trait that he could think of to test, and they were all supported by Trait Theory. At the end of year seven Zachary, now aged 34, finally had enough data to publish a researc
h article about Trait Theory, and for the second time in his young career shook the foundations of the research community: this time both psychology and genetics. Genetics theorized that the last adaptations to human evolution were 40,000 and 20,000 years prior, which were, respectively, lactose tolerance in some Europeans, and higher levels of oxygen efficiency in some Tibetans.
Trait theory stated that evolution was efficient enough for parents to pass certain adaptations, which Zachary termed stress-induced inherited traits, immediately onto their children. Zachary’s Thailand data was much too informal to be used in the article – though it was the seed that had paved the way for seven years of painstaking mice research, and so had served a crucial purpose. The data from his Trait Theory mice research was nothing short of breath-taking. In now what seemed like seven short years, he had created whole mice communities from which to derive the pure truth of Trait Theory.
Accolades and speeches came swiftly. He was the toast of the town. And it was during this time that Zachary incorporated Dunbar and Associates, the idea taking shape after Samantha made the comment, “Well, my friend, I didn’t expect it. But you have bottled lightning on two occasions. I turned down your offer, and as I look at your face on the cover of the Improper Bostonian with the caption, ‘Is this man the only sexy scientist on Earth?’ I can’t help but think I made a mistake. I want to be a sexy scientist too.”
“Yeah, I really don’t get that cover. I am not sexy and nothing about my science is sexy. I think the publisher was thinking exactly that – so he decided, ‘This is all so unsexy that no one will pick up this magazine. I have an idea! Let’s just say he is a sexy scientist – better yet – let’s say he is the only sexy scientist – I don’t know any sexy scientists do you? There we have it!” said Zachary, still on a high from his recent tour of the town, and able to ramble on about anything.
“Zachary, I’m serious. We should start a company,” said Samantha. “Omar wants to too. He’s game. I’m game. Are you game?”
“I’m game,” said Zachary, and soon after Dunbar and Associates was born.
Gallivanting about town, teaching undergraduates, and starting his own company kept Zachary busy, but his mind kept pulsing one single thought no matter what situation he was in: test humans now. Humans, the gold standard of research…Sure mice followed Trait Theory, and it was reasonable to surmise that the same might be true of humans, but reasonableness and cold hard data are two universes apart for a scientist. The problem was that he was having difficulty designing a human experiment that would be ethical. He couldn’t exactly plop humans in a corridor and slam a wall in their faces.
Furthermore, it would be difficult to study a phenomenon that occurred between parents and their children. When most scientists studied generational developments they used fruit flies because their life cycle is a mere seven days. Zachary’s solution: find humans to whom traumatic events had occurred, ask them how the traumatic event had shaped them (this would be nearly impossible to measure), and then take a look at their children born before the traumatic event, and compare them to their children born after the traumatic event (two sets of children would have to fall serendipitously into place) – and answer the question: does the second set of children share the trait that the parent believed the traumatic event caused in them, while the first set does not?
There were problems with this approach. For one thing it would have to be assumed that the parent was a reliable source about his or her own history. Had the traumatic event really caused the trait that they believed it had caused? For example, if a man were mugged and beaten near to death, and then he stated to Zachary that this had caused him to become shy around strangers, how did Zachary know that the man hadn’t actually been shy around strangers before this incident?
Still, this strategy was the best that he could think of and he decided to move forward. It seemed logical to start with the most traumatic event that he could think of: murder. A sane person commits an unplanned murder because a high degree of stress has been entered into their life – the murder is the culmination of that stress – the murder is like the mouse trying to beat the rising wall. The mouse sprints to obtain food. Man murders to obtain…? Well, the motives differ. The most common motive, Zachary learned through researching the subject, was jealously and domestic murder. Husband kills wife. He decided to stick with this subject because by studying the most common motive participants would be more readily available.
Eventually Zachary landed a case study subject: Tony Capobianco. Tony Capobianco married Jessica Smith in 1977. During their first year of marriage, Jessica became pregnant and birthed her first and only child, Joseph. Tony used their combined savings to buy a pizza shop. However, neither his crust nor the taste of his sauce was popular and Tony’s Pies struggled. Although he moonlighted as a plumber in an attempt to keep the pizza shop afloat, he refused to change his crust or the taste of his sauce and after two years Tony’s Pies was bankrupt.
The atmosphere in the Capobianco household, heavily in debt, became strained. Citing family honor, Tony refused to declare bankruptcy. “My Momma and my Poppa, they roll over in their grave if I don’t pay a bill. A Capobianco make a bill. A Capobianco pay a bill.” He’d raise his hands higher in the air, gesticulating more wildly and keep repeating what had become a mantra for Tony, “A Capobianco make a bill. A Capobianco pay a bill.”
The decision to pay all his creditors caused Tony to work even more hours than he had previously, and plumbing pipes from 6 am to 11pm each day became the norm. And as he unclogged poop clogs and ran his heavy hands over greasy pipes, a thought slowly took hold of him – Jessica was not being faithful.
Jessica Capobianco had been brought up a Catholic and took the rules of the church seriously. She did not curse, went to confession once per week, had stood at the altar a virgin, and fully intended Tony to be, until the Lord took her back, the one and only man in her life. Yet Tony himself was the biggest obstacle to that resolution because every night when he came home, usually after having finished a 12 or 24 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, he’d lay his heavy hands on her, and slap her – one, two, three – in the face, until he was sure that she hadn’t even looked at another man. Then still slimy and smelling of poop and pipes, he would initiate a sweaty sex that she found anything but enjoyable.
Her Catholicism could only keep her chained for so long, especially after an old crush, Mike, started delivering the milk. As Tony was bulky, bruising, and harsh, Mike was slender, smiling, and nice. After a month of delivering the milk, Mike began leaving a single rose with it. For Jessica the start of an affair was the first step in leaving an unhappy marriage.
When Tony left work early one sunny Tuesday to retrieve a forgotten wrench, he found the two of them naked in bed, spooning. What he told the police later is that what surprised him most was not that he recognized the milkman but that his naked skin was white as the milk he delivered and seemed to be shimmering in the sunlight – he looked almost like a girl. Fate had placed a murder weapon, the wrench, firmly in his hand, and he bludgeoned both their skulls. Then he sat down on a bloodless part of his bed and dialed the cops. The police report recorded his first statement as, “My name is Tony Capobianco. I’ve killed my wife and her lover. I’m ready for jail.” Their son Joseph was at school that day and from that point on he lived with his grandparents in Cape Cod. After a speedy trial, Tony received a life sentence without the possibility of parole.
For Zachary this was the point of the introduction of a key character: Shelly Disano, full blooded Italian hairdresser and jailhouse fetishist. From the time she was eighteen she’d dated men in the slammer. Now at twenty-nine there had been a long list of car-jackers, assaulters, thieves, and even murderers whose hearts she could claim to have broken – she collected crocodile tears with the skill of a demon. But it was with To
ny Capobianco that she fell in love. Although she knew he was guilty – he’d told her so – he seemed to be the one innocent man in prison, innocent in the sense that he was completely devoid of street-smarts. From behind bars he was still paying child support though he made less that a laborer in China.
A Capobianco make a bill. A Capobianco pay a bill.
They made passionate love on every possible occasion – and after a month she stopped taking birth control and nine months later, although they weren’t married, she named her baby boy Michael Capobianco anyway. Two weeks later Tony was shanked in the shower, bled to death, and Michael and Joseph were left without a father.
That a brother was born before and after the murder was what counted for Zachary. Joseph would be the control and Michael would be the variable. They both agreed to the study, as each needed the cash. From the moment they walked into the Harvard University laboratory, Zachary began gathering data.
Thirty males with girlfriends and with a father who had not killed their mother, and who were also similar in age to Michael, 24, and Joseph, 31, were additionally recruited to serve as comparisons. Each participant was instructed to bring a sensual picture of their girlfriend. To confirm that the photo was actually their girlfriend and not, for example, a model pulled from a magazine, they were required to bring a photo album or provide access to a Facebook account with photos of them together. Once in the laboratory, each subject was given a complex puzzle and their solving time was recorded.
Next the subject was shown a picture of their girlfriend juxtaposed with a picture of a hunky shirtless male. Later a groaning noise suggestive of copulation was introduced into the subject’s headphones. Then each subject was presented with a similar, but different series, of complex puzzles. The question: would a lingering sense of jealousy cause the subject to become more easily frustrated and to take longer, or even to completely give up, solving the puzzles? The results were striking. Joseph, the Capobianco child born before the murder and hypothesized to not be susceptible to the Murderous Jealousy Trait (MJT), had a baseline puzzle solving time of 7 minutes. His post stimulus time was also 7 minutes. There was no statistical variation between the two times. It seemed the not-so-subtle suggestion that a model-like male was bedding his girlfriend did not, at least after the fact, fluster him. For the thirty other males tested only two had statistical variations, and they were small variations, just eight percent.
With Michael, the Capobianco who had been born after the murder had occurred and who was hypothesized to be susceptible to the Murderous-Jealousy Trait, it was another matter entirely. In the picture he had brought of his girlfriend -- which he refused to give Zachary until he was told that it was absolutely necessary -- she was kneeling on a rug, wearing black lingerie, staring with a pout, and sporting thick red lipstick.
Instantly, Michael’s blood pressure spiked when this picture entered the split-screen and was paired with the shirtless male. Five seconds after the groaning noise was introduced he tore off the headset, thrust it on the desk and shouted profanities. When given the post-test puzzle, which consisted of wooden circles, triangles, squares, and diamonds to be combined to form a moon shape, he attempted the puzzle for 15.3 seconds before he flipped the table, released a primal scream, and exited the testing room.
Once in the hall, he grabbed the nearest object, a trashcan, and hurled it down the hall. Then he shattered the glass of a framed picture of Charles Darwin by punching a hole in it. At this point the testing staff attempted to calm him. But he shouted at them with such vehemence that they backed away. Outside in the parking lot he climbed on top of his car, shadow boxed, gave his middle finger to a passing plane, got down off his car, lay on his back on the pavement, and after a few minutes of hyperventilating, finally calmed.
It was at this point that Zachary approached him with a counselor. Although the ferocity of Michael’s reaction was concerning, the results were quantitatively and qualitatively better than expected. The next step would be the recruitment of more children with fathers who were domestic murderers. Still, Zachary had a pressing matter, his present subject on the pavement, and he was sympathetic that he may have awoken a monster. Therefore, he tried to assume a non-judgmental tone and said in a calm voice, “You broke a lot of things. That is okay. I know you are in pain. Come back inside and let’s talk.”
“I don’t want to go back into that room with those fucking noises, and those fucking pictures of that fucking man and my fucking girlfriend,” said Michael from the pavement, his eyes closed. This was the first time that Zachary had taken a really good look at Michael. Although he wore a loose fitting track suit, Zachary could observe that his limbs were pure brawn, and there was intensity in the sharp lines of his face even when it contained no expression, and he had the same thick heavy hands that he’d seen in photographs of Tony Capobianco.
With a foreboding shiver, Zachary thought to himself: this man could kill. Eventually they returned back inside. Zachary offered Michael a glass of water and he accepted. The counselor at this point hadn’t uttered a word and Zachary wondered what he was being paid for. Then out of the blue Michael said, “This was all about jealousy and that jealousy can make you really fucking pissed off, wasn’t it?”
It would have been unethical for Zachary to withhold this information. Human participation means certain guidelines must be followed, such as informed consent. Michael had been informed that he had been chosen for the study because his father had been a murderer. But he had not been told that they were specifically studying a potential Murderous Jealousy Trait – disclosing every detail of a study is not necessary and may affect the results. But because the study had already concluded, Zachary nodded his head, adding, “But it is complicated. We are trying to figure out if certain traits can be passed from parents to their children. For example, your father was a jealous man – we were wondering if he might have passed that on to you.”
“You could have just fucking asked me,” said Michael, placing a cold stare onto Zachary.
“Well what would you have said, had I asked you that prior to the study?” Zachary asked in as neutral a tone as possible while activating the audio-recorder in his pocket with a tap.
“Melanie – that bitch – she drives me crazy. I know my Dad – I know he killed a woman but she weren’t my Mom, and maybe that bitch had it coming. Melanie – she stays out late when she works late – and sometimes I see in my mind – I see…”
“Yes, what do you see?” the counselor asked, finally saying something.
“Who the fuck are you?” Michael asked.
“I’m a social worker,” said the counselor.
“Do I look like I need charity?” said Michael.
“No, not that kind. I’m just here to help,” said the counselor.
“Well, I don’t like you, and the way that you have been staring at me all this time without saying diddly squat,” said Michael.
“Do you want me to leave?” asked the counselor.
“I wouldn’t cry about it,” said Michael with an eerie grin.
“Should I leave?” the counselor asked Zachary.
“Yeah I suppose you should,” said Zachary, frowning.
After the counselor gathered his belongings and left the room, Zachary said to Michael, “So Melanie, she makes you feel jealous?”
“I don’t want to talk about it no more. So even though I broke all that stuff I’m still gonna get paid right?” Michael asked.
Zachary nodded. “Michael you should know that my research has indicated that there may be a chance that you are susceptible to an over-powering form of jealousy. So you should know that so you can plan what you will do if that happens.”
Michael remained silent.
“Michael I’d like to provide you with counseling, for as long as you need it, free of charge, here at the university,” said Zachary, not su
re exactly how he would set this up, but knowing that it needed to be done.
“Will the counselor be studying me too?” Michael asked with a smirk.
“I’m serious Michael. I think this could help you. This is cutting-edge science, so we can’t say exactly what is going on. But given your reaction to some pictures and noises today, wouldn’t you say that it makes at least a little bit of sense that you need some help?” Zachary asked.
“The only thing that makes sense is that I need to get paid. Where do I pick up the money doc?” Michael asked.
“It will be mailed to you,” said Zachary.
“Then I’m done here.”
One week later Michael made news headlines when he strangled and killed his girlfriend Melanie. They had been at a Boston nightclub and when a man started dancing with Melanie, Michael sucker punched the man and then smashed his face into his knee, popping out three of his front teeth. The man tried to scramble away, but Michael held him tight, and Mike Tyson style, bit off a small chunk of his ear. Screaming and bleeding profusely, the man managed to wriggle free after a bouncer descended on Michael. In the ensuing tussle the bouncer’s nose was broken, and Michael fled the club.
In the street Michael found Melanie trying to hail a cab. Witnesses reported that Michael shouted, “Get over here bitch!” And he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her into an ally. No one came to her aid. Three minutes later she was dead. Michael, like his father, waited for police at the murder scene.
The incident caused mixed emotions for Zachary. On one hand, he felt partly responsible, as it seemed that his test may have infected Michael with the “jealousy bug.” On the other hand, Michael himself admitted in the post test interview that he was already a very jealous person, and the timing of the test may have been a coincidence. Moreover, if Zachary’s theory was correct and had been widely accepted by society, then maybe senseless murders, such as the murder of Melanie, could be prevented in the future.
However, he could not dismiss the possibility that he had been partly to blame for the death of an innocent woman. Concurrently, a member of the testing staff had leaked the details of their study to the press, and it caused a firestorm for Zachary and the University. Allegations of mad-science were made, and Zachary was looked at by the university’s internal review board.
Although they had approved his study, they wanted a second look at the manner in which it had been conducted. Eventually Zachary was cleared by the board. A threatened civil suit by Melanie’s family never materialized. However, due to the scope of the tragedy, Zachary considered resignation. After a lengthy discussion with a dean of the college, he decided it was the honorable course to take. They also agreed that in the near future he should set up a scholarship fund in Melanie’s name to support victims of domestic violence.
All and all, he thought as he put Samantha’s book back on the shelf, not reading is the least of my problems.