Winston looked at him quizzically but left without a word. McCaleb took an appraising look around the room. There was an overhead bank of fluorescent lights in the ceiling. No other lighting. The glare from the overheads was magnified by the mirrored window on the left wall. He knew the video camera was set up on the other side of the glass, so he needed to keep Noone in a position facing it.
“Let’s see,” he said to Noone. “I need to get up on the table to get at those lights.”
“No problem.”
Using a chair as a stepladder, McCaleb climbed onto the table and reached up to the light panel. He moved slowly, trying to avoid another bout of vertigo. He opened the panel and began removing the long light tubes, handing them down to Noone and engaging him in small talk, hoping to make the witness feel comfortable with him.
“I hear you’re going to Vegas from here? Is that work or play?”
“Uh, work mostly.”
“What do you do?”
“Computer software. I’m designing a new accounting and security system for the El Rio. Still working out the bugs. We’ll be running tests for the next week or so.”
“A week in Las Vegas? Boy, I could lose a lot of money there in a week.”
“I don’t gamble.”
“That’s a good thing.”
He had taken out three of the four bulbs, dropping the room into a dim ambiance. He hoped that left enough light for the video. As he got off the table, Winston returned with a chair that actually looked like the one Hitchens had been sitting in.
“You took that from the captain?”
“Best chair in the place.”
“Good.”
He looked at the mirror and winked at the camera behind it. As he did this, he noticed the dark circles beginning to form under his eyes and quickly looked away.
Winston reached into the pocket of the blazer she wore and carefully eased out a pair of scissors. McCaleb took them and put them on the table and then pushed it against the wall below the mirror. He then took the captain’s chair and positioned it against the opposite wall. He put two chairs from the table facing the captain’s chair but split them apart far enough so as not to block the camera’s view of Noone. He directed Noone to the captain’s chair and then Winston and he took the remaining seats. McCaleb looked at his watch and noted that it was ten minutes before six.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll try to do this quick and have you on your way, James. First off, any questions you have for us about what we’re trying to do here?”
Noone thought a moment before speaking.
“Well, I guess I don’t know much about it. What will happen to me?”
“Nothing will happen to you. All hypnosis really is is an altered state of consciousness. What we want you to do is go through some progressive stages of relaxation until you reach a point where you can easily move through the recesses of your mind to pull out some of the stored information. Kind of like turning through a Rolodex and pulling out the card you need.”
McCaleb waited but Noone asked nothing else.
“Why don’t we start with an exercise. I want you to tilt your head back slightly and look up. Try to roll your eyes upward as far as they can go. Maybe you should take off your glasses.”
Noone took off the glasses, folded them and put them in his pocket. He tilted his head back and rolled his eyes up. McCaleb studied him. He was able to roll them upward enough so that a quarter inch of white cornea was visible below each iris. This was a good indicator of receptivity to hypnosis.
“Okay, that’s good. Now, I want you to just relax if you can, take long, deep breaths and tell us what you can recall about the incident on the night of January twenty-second. Just recount what you now remember about what you saw.”
For the next ten minutes Noone told the story about coming upon the tail end of the shooting and robbery at the ATM in Lancaster. His story was no different than the versions he had recounted during various interviews since the night it had all happened. He added no new details that McCaleb picked up on and seemed to leave nothing out from his prior tellings. This was unusual and encouraging to McCaleb. The memories of most witnesses begin fading after two months. They forgot details. The fact that Noone seemed to remember every detail led McCaleb to hope the computer programmer’s recessed memory might be just as sharp. When Noone had finished recounting the event, McCaleb nodded to Winston, who then leaned toward Noone and handed him the six-pack file.
“James, I want you to open the file and look at the photos. Tell us if any of the men were the man you saw in the speeding car.”
Noone put his glasses back on and took the file but said, “I don’t know. I really didn’t get a-”
“I know,” Winston said. “But take a look.”
Noone opened the file. There was a piece of cardboard inside with squares cut out in two rows of three. In the squares were photos of men. Bolotov’s photo was the third on the top row. Noone stared at the six-pack, his eyes moving from photo to photo, and then shook his head.
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t see him.”
“That’s fine,” McCaleb said quickly before Winston could say something that Noone might interpret as a negative. “I think we’re ready to go on, then.”
He took the file from Noone and tossed it onto the table.
“So why don’t you start by just telling us what you do to relax, James?” McCaleb asked.
Noone looked back at him blankly.
“You know, when are you happiest? When are you the most relaxed and at peace? Me, I like to work on my boat and go fishing. I don’t even care if I catch anything. I just like having a line in the water. How about you, James? You like shooting baskets, hitting golf balls? What?”
“Um, I don’t know. I guess I like being on the computer.”
“But that’s not relaxing mentally, James, is it? I’m not talking about something where you have to do a lot of thinking. I mean, what do you do when you want to let it all go. When you’re tired of thinking and you just want to go blank for a while.”
“Well… I don’t know. I like to go to the beach. There’s a place I know. I go there.”
“What’s it look like?”
“The sand down there is so white and it’s wide. You can rent horses and ride along the edge of the water below the cliffs. The water cuts under the cliffs and it’s like a hanging edge. People sit under there in the shade.”
“Okay, that’s good. That’s real good, James. Now, I want you to close your eyes, rest your arms in your lap and in your mind I want you to think about that spot. Picture in your mind that you are walking on that beach. Just relax and walk along the beach.”
McCaleb was silent for a half minute and simply watched Noone’s face. The skin around the corners of his closed eyes began to relax and McCaleb then led him through a set of sensory exercises in which he told him to concentrate on the feel of his socks on his feet, his hands on the fabric of his pants, the glasses on the bridge of his nose, even the hair-what was left of it-on his head.
After five minutes of this, McCaleb went on to muscle exercises, telling Noone to crunch his toes together as hard as possible, hold them that way and then release.
Slowly the focus of the exercises was moved up his body, eventually going to every muscle group. McCaleb then started again at the toes and moved back up. It was a method of exhausting the muscles and making the mind more susceptible to the suggestion of relaxation and rest. McCaleb noticed Noone’s breathing going deep and long. Things were going well. He looked at his watch and saw it was now six-thirty.
“Okay, James, now without opening your eyes, I want you to hold your left hand out and up in front of your face. Hold it about a foot from your face.”
Noone responded and McCaleb let him hold his arm up for a good minute, all the while counseling him to relax and keep his thoughts on the beach he was walking on.
“Okay, I now want you to very slowly bring your hand toward your face. Very slowl
y.”
Noone’s hand started to move toward his nose.
“Okay, slower now,” McCaleb said, his words slower and softer than before. “That’s it, James. Slowly. And when your hand touches your face you will be totally relaxed and at that point you will drop into a deep hypnotic state.”
He was silent then as he watched Noone’s hand move slowly forward until his palm stopped at his nose. At the moment of contact, his head dipped forward and his shoulders slumped. His hand dropped into his lap. McCaleb looked over at Winston. She raised her eyebrows and nodded at him. McCaleb knew they were only halfway there but things were looking good. He decided to run a little test.
“James, you are totally relaxed now, totally at rest. You are so relaxed that your arms are as light as feathers. They weigh nothing at all.”
He watched him but he didn’t move, which was good.
“Okay, now I’m going to take a balloon that’s full of helium and tie the string to your left hand. I’m tying it on now. There, the balloon is tied to your wrist, James, and I’m letting go of it.”
Immediately, Noone’s left arm began to rise until it was stretched upward, his hand up higher than his head. McCaleb just watched. And after half a minute Noone’s arm showed no indication of tiring.
“Okay, James, I have a pair of scissors and I’m going to cut the string.”
McCaleb reached back to the table and lifted the scissors. He opened them and closed them sharply on the imaginary string. Noone’s arm dropped back into his lap. McCaleb looked over at Winston and nodded.
“Okay, James, you are very relaxed and nothing is bothering you. I want you to picture in your mind that you’re walking on that beach and you come to a garden. The garden is green and lush and beautiful and there are flowers and birds singing. It is so beautiful and peaceful. You’ve never been in any spot as peaceful as this. Now… you walk through the garden and come to a small building with a set of doors. They’re elevator doors, James. They’re made of wood with gold trim around the edges and they’re beautiful. Everything here is beautiful.
“The doors open, James, and you step on the elevator because you know it takes you down to your special room. A room where nobody else can go. Only you can go down there and you are in total peace when you go there.”
McCaleb got up and stood in front of Noone, just a few feet away. Noone showed no outward sign of acknowledging the close presence of another person.
“The elevator buttons show you are on number ten and you have to go down to your room on number one. You push the button, James, and the elevator starts to go down. You are feeling more relaxed as each floor goes by.”
McCaleb raised his arm and held it parallel to the ground and a foot in front of Noone’s face. He then began raising it, bringing it back around and then up again. He knew the disturbance the motion would make in the light hitting Noone’s eyelids would add to his sense of descent.
“You’re going down, James. Deeper and deeper. That’s the ninth floor… now the eighth, and seven… You are getting deeper and deeper, more and more relaxed. The sixth floor just went by… now the fifth… four… three… two… and one… The doors open now and you step into your special room. You’re there, James, and in perfect peace.”
McCaleb went back to his chair. He then told Noone to enter his room and that the most comfortable chair in the world was waiting for him there. He told him to sit down and just melt into the chair. He told him to imagine a pat of butter melting in a frying pan on very low heat.
“No sizzle, just a slow, slow melting. That’s you, James. Just melting into your chair.”
He waited a few moments and then told Noone about the television that was sitting right in front of him. “You’ve got the remote control in your hand. And this is a special television with a special remote. You can watch whatever you want to on this TV. You can back the picture up, go forward, zoom in or pull back out. Whatever you want to do with it, you can do. Now, turn it on, James. And what we’re going to watch on that special TV right now is what you saw on the night of January twenty-second when you were going to the bank in Lancaster to get some money.”
He waited a beat.
“Turn the TV on, James. Is it on now?”
“Yes,” Noone said, his first words in a half hour.
“Okay, good. Now we’re going to go back to that night, James. Now tell us what you saw.”
17
JAMES NOONE TOLD his story as if McCaleb and Winston were there riding with him in his car, if not his head.
“I have the blinker on and I’m turning in. Here he comes! Brakes! He’s going to-he almost hit me, the asshole! I could’ve-”
Noone raised his left arm, made a fist and shot his middle finger up, an impotent gesture at the driver of the car that had blasted by him. As he did this, McCaleb looked closely at his face, noting the rapid eye movement behind his closed lids. It was one of the indicators he always looked for, a sign that the subject was deeply into the trance.
“He’s gone and I’m pulling in now. I see, I see the man. There is a man on the ground under the light. By the ATM. He’s down-I’m getting out and check to see… there’s blood. He’s shot-somebody shot him. Uh, uh, I’ve got to get somebody-I’m going back to my car for the phone. I can call and get him help. He’s shot. There’s blood on the… it’s everywhere.”
“Okay, James, okay,” McCaleb said, interrupting him for the first time. “That’s good. Now what I want you to do is take your special remote and back up the picture on the TV until the point that you first see the car coming out of the bank’s parking lot. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, are you there?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, now start it again, only this time run it in slow motion. Very slow, so you can see everything. Are you running it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I want you to freeze it when you get the best view of the car coming at you.”
McCaleb waited.
“Okay, I got it.”
“Okay, good. Can you tell us what kind of car it is?”
“Yes. Black Cherokee. It’s pretty dusty.”
“Can you tell what year?”
“No, it’s the newer kind. The Grand Cherokee.”
“Can you see the side of the Cherokee?”
“Yes.”
“How many doors?”
It was a small test to make sure Noone was reporting what he had seen, not what he had been told. McCaleb remembered from the crime scene tape that the deputy who had first interviewed Noone had told him the newer styling on the Cherokee indicated it was the Grand Cherokee model. McCaleb had to confirm the identification of the vehicle and he knew the Grand Cherokee came only in a four-door model.
“Um, two on the side,” Noone said. “It’s a four-door.”
“Good. Now come around to the front. Do you see any damage to the car. Any dents or noticeable scratches?”
“No.”
“Is there any striping on the car?”
“Mmm, no.”
“How about the bumper? Can you see the front bumper?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I want you to take your remote and zoom in on that bumper. Can you see the license plate?”
“No.”
“Why not, James?”
“It’s covered.”
“What’s covering it?”
“Uh, there’s a T-shirt on it. It’s wrapped around the bumper so it covers the plate. Looks like a T-shirt.”
McCaleb glanced over at Winston and could see the disappointment on her face. He pressed on.
“Okay, James, take your remote and zoom up into the car, can you do that?”
“Okay.”
“How many people are in that Cherokee?”
“One. The driver.”
“All right, zoom in on him. Tell me what you see.”
“Can’t really.”
“Why not? What’s wrong?”
“The lights. He’s got the brights on. The glare is too much, I can’t-”
“Okay, James, what I want you to do is take the remote and move the picture. Go back and forth until you have the best view of the driver. Tell me when you have that.”
McCaleb looked back at Winston and she looked back with raised eyebrows. They both knew that they would soon find out if this had been worth it or not.
“Okay,” James said.
“Okay, you’re seeing the driver.”
“Yes.”
“Tell us what he looks like. What color is his skin?”
“He’s white but he has a hat and the brim is down. He’s looking downward and the brim covers his face.”
“All of his face?”
“No. I see his mouth.”
“Does he have a beard or mustache?”
“No.”
“Can you see his teeth?”
“No, his mouth is closed.”
“Can you see his eyes?”
“No. That hat is in the way.”
McCaleb sat back and released his breath in frustration. He couldn’t believe this. Noone was a perfect subject. He was in a deep trance and yet they couldn’t get from him what they needed, a direct look at the shooter.
“Okay, are you sure this is the best view of him?”
“I’m sure.”
“Can you see any of his hair?”
“Yes.”
“What color is it?”
“Dark, like a dark brown or maybe black.”
“What length, can you tell?”
“It looks short.”
“What about the hat? Describe the hat.”
“It’s a baseball hat, and it’s gray. Washed-out gray.”
“Okay, is there any writing on the hat or a team logo?”
“There’s a design, like a symbol.”
“Can you describe it?”
“It’s like letters overlapping each other.”
“What letters?”
“It looks like a C with a line cut through. A one or a capital I or a small L. And then there’s a circle-I mean an oval-around the whole thing.”
McCaleb was silent for a moment thinking about this.
“James,” he then said, “if I give you something to draw on, do you think you could open your eyes and draw this design for us?”
Blood Work Page 16