Like No Other Boy

by Larry Center

“Yes. The TOLD—Test of Language Development—was administered, but only five subjects were chosen to participate in a yearlong study. And the actual testing sequences had been rearranged to benefit each child’s test-taking abilities. I hardly call that valid or conclusive. And there are no long-term studies to show that the eclectic approach used at the Acorn School is more successful than a simple public education classroom-style learning environment.”

  Dunn was hitting all the right buttons. I relaxed in my seat and felt the beginnings of a smile crop up on my face. I was hoping that Mark would play the doctor for all he was worth.

  “Any other information you would like to provide?” Mark asked.

  “Actually, there’s also the issue of separating Tommy from his father,” Dunn continued. He stroked his chin, his eyes landing on me. “That could be highly stressful given the close relationship between this father and son. I’ve interviewed both Tommy and Chris Crutcher, and it’s clear that a loving bond exists between them. If they were to be separated by a move to Houston, I believe it’s quite possible that negative consequences would result.”

  Beaman chose not to cross-examine. She whispered something to her assistant again, then looked down at her notes.

  * * *

  Finally, it was my turn to take the stand. Once I was seated, Mark summarized a psychologist’s report, which he handed the judge. The report stated I had been interviewed and appeared to be a caring father; there was no evidence of my shirking weekend custody, no proof of my engaging in any behavior that would be considered harmful to my son, no sign of drug or alcohol abuse, sexual abuse, or irresponsibility.

  When Mark asked me to describe a typical weekend with Tommy, I talked about taking him to the zoo, trying to help him improve his language skills, listening to him, giving him stimulating toys in the hope that he’d respond. I tried to express the depth of our bond, how much we meant to each other.

  When Beaman whispered something into Cheryl’s ear, I stopped talking and blanked out for a moment. My mind spun.

  “Would you do just about anything for Tommy?” Mark asked finally.

  “I would do whatever it takes to help him.” I glanced at Rachel.

  “And isn’t that why you engaged in the chimp therapy, as a means of helping your son?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did your idea for chimp therapy come about?”

  “We were at the San Diego Zoo,” I said. “Tommy showed an uncanny ability to communicate with the chimps. He seemed to do it by gestures and natural instinct. I was really taken aback and from there, I found the Weller Institute.”

  “And did you see improvement when you took your son to Weller to interact with the chimps there?”

  “I certainly did.”

  “And you were paid a stipend by Weller?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Both me and Cheryl. The money went toward Tommy’s needs, mostly. I didn’t take that money and buy a new car or anything like that at all. Plus,” I turned toward the judge, “Weller gave Tommy a ten-thousand-dollar educational fund.”

  “Yes, the fund has been noted in the file. Your Honor,” Mark said. He faced the judge. His voice rang throughout the courtroom as he pointed at the monitor. “At this point, I’d like to present a video that shows Mr. Crutcher’s son, first as he tries to participate in a classroom activity at school, and then, as he interacts with chimpanzees. It will clearly demonstrate why Mr. Crutcher felt that being around the chimps was helpful to Tommy. The two scenes involved were taped within a month of each other, as you can see by the dates on the film. They—”

  “Objection! Relevance!” Beaman bellowed. Her loud voice sent shivers through me. “Video footage as described by counsel is not germane to the central question of this hearing, namely, whether the father is engaging in dangerous child-raising practices, and ultimately, whether Acorn is in the best interest of the child.”

  Korbovitch rubbed the side of his face as he leaned back in his chair. “I understand your reasoning, Ms. Beaman, but I want to see the video. This hearing is about the child’s best interests. I think the video may shed further light on several questions I’ve been formulating. Mr. Hyman, go ahead and introduce the video.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. This is an observational video made about a month before Tommy first interacted with the chimps.”

  I’d made this video after asking the principal at Hillwood and explaining the circumstances. We’d received waivers from all the parents involved in the shot.

  As the video began, Ms. Sullivan at Hillwood was talking to four children about the pictures they’d just drawn as they sat around a table. When she called on Tommy, he didn’t say a word and flapped his hands in front of his face. When she tried to engage him, he rocked back and forth, made motor noises, and showed no facial expression other than a stony stare.

  Next came a scene with Tommy at the chimp compound. He was standing at the entrance to the enclosure, watching the chimps with a precious smile on his face.

  “Look, Daddy, you look. Chimpies! Like chimpies, Daddy. Like lots.”

  My voice resounded in the courtroom. “Yes, Tommy, they’re really cool.”

  The next scene was with chimps playing in the background while Tommy cooed with Obo in a corner. Holding his hand, Tommy led Obo to a table and handed the chimp pieces of watermelon. After eating, he reached out and stroked Obo’s face, and Obo reciprocated. While Mikey hooted in the background, Obo stretched his lips, showing his teeth, and Tommy did the same.

  This relaxed, animated child was so unlike the one in Ms. Sullivan’s class. My eyes moistened watching it. Surely, the judge would see the difference. My breathing quickened as I fiddled with my watch on my wrist. This was my reason why. Something tingled at the base of my spine, the whisper of a feeling, the voice of hope.

  Cheryl only frowned as she watched from her seat in the courtroom. Tommy circled a stick through the air, waving it like a baton as he jumped up and down. Obo watched him, then did the same thing when Tommy handed him the stick. Tommy spoke some words and Obo appeared to listen intently, knowingly shaking his head.

  “Bird . . . Tree . . . Dog . . . Hug . . .”

  Obo yammered and shrieked.

  “Look, Daddy,” Tommy said. “Chimpies! All around! Love chimpies!” He waved his arms to take in the whole playground.

  “I see, Tommy. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

  Mark freeze-framed Tommy’s smile for a few moments. And such a smile! Pure delight blossomed all over his rosy face. My heart plummeted into my stomach.

  I turned around and stared at my father who gave me a knowing nod as Mark sat down.

  “What’s your occupation, Mr. Crutcher?” Beaman said when she stood to question me.

  Nerves got to me. I couldn’t find my voice for a minute and sat there, unable to say a thing. “I-I-I’m a . . . ” And then finally, I managed to spurt with hesitation: “a, uh, well, a voice-over actor.”

  A mild laughter filled the room.

  “I see.” Beaman raised an eyebrow, pausing before continuing. “So, would you consider yourself an expert in primatology?”

  “No.”

  “In child psychology?”

  “No.”

  “Would you consider yourself an expert in the study of autism?”

  “No.”

  “In special education?”

  “No.”

  “How about psychiatry?”

  “No.”

  “Neurology?”

  “No.”

  I crossed and uncrossed my legs, looking around the courtroom. All eyes were watching me, Cheryl, the reporters, my Dad, everyone. I felt as if I were a museum exhibit all of a sudden, “Dad Under Duress,” a real piece of emotional art. I froze in place.

  “And yet you’ve chosen to expose your son to this unproven, so-called chimp therapy,” Beaman continued, “putting your son at risk with these dangerous animals and based on what?”

  “Objection!” Mark said. “Per
sonal accusation that’s not fact based.”

  “Sustained. Please, Ms. Beaman,” Korbovitch said. “Stick to the task at hand.”

  Beaman turned her back on the judge.

  “So, you don’t see the risk of chimp therapy but you have absolutely no expertise in this area? Are you aware of the documented cases around the world of chimps attacking humans?” She grabbed a sheet of paper from her desk. “St. Louis Times. March 2014. Chimps assault zookeeper and bite his neck and hands. London, England. December 2015. Two chimps escape from a lab and maul a janitor. The list goes on, Mr. Crutcher. Is this what you want your son to experience?”

  I caught the anger on Rachel’s face when Beaman. Described the chimps as dangerous. She looked stricken.

  “Look. I know Tommy,” I said. I took a breath, feeling the emotions rise. “I know him through and through. You’ve seen the video. I’m not imagining this. The chimps are one-hundred percent helping him. He’s not afraid of the chimps at Weller and has no cause to be afraid.”

  “So, you consider yourself the expert here as Tommy’s father?” Beaman said.

  “In a way, yes.”

  “But you were being paid by Weller as part of their research grant?” Beaman asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And are you still being paid?”

  I waited a long moment before answering. “Yes.”

  “And that money is not influencing you in any way?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “But you said the money is mostly being used for Tommy. Can you define mostly?”

  I hesitated before answering. “I put the money to work in the best way I knew how.” I looked down, feeling blood rushing to my face.

  “So, you basically received an income from Tommy’s endeavors. And you didn’t spend any of the money for our own needs, like for instance, paying the mortgage?”

  “Well, of course, the money was available and yes, I did use some of the money for my own needs.”

  “I see. You’re out of work, Mr. Crutcher?”

  “Off and on.”

  “You need the money. Right?”

  “Yes.” I couldn’t lie. “But I used the money to pay the mortgage so I’d have a home for Tommy as well. That money impacted Tommy as much as it did me.”

  “So, don’t you think it could be said that the main reason you took your son out to Weller wasn’t for some abstract psychological benefit for your son, but simply because you would receive a very good income?”

  “No! That’s not it. This was all about Tommy’s welfare!” I clenched my fists, scrunching up my jaw.

  “So, if it’s all about your son, as you say, aren’t you concerned with the fact that you’re ignoring the conventional psychologists and neurologists and pediatricians,” Beaman went on, “people who’ve spent years studying autism? How can you be so sure that you’re the expert when you can hardly hold a job in your own field?”

  When I looked up, my hands knotted together, I saw a ferocity in Beaman’s eyes that resembled the eyes of a tiger about to attack. Something about them wasn’t even human.

  But I wasn’t going to back down. “If Cheryl thinks she’s the expert because she’s the mother, then I have every right to think I’m the expert because I’m the father. Don’t I?”

  A chuckle went out across the courtroom. My heart sank.

  “You’ve also taken him to see an adult chimp, right?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What was the purpose of that visit?”

  “It was a remarkable experience for him.”

  “Remarkable?”

  “Yes, my son could tell us what Albert was thinking by looking at the chimp’s paintings.”

  “My, that’s incredible, Mr. Crutcher.” She raised her eyebrows, mock-grinned at me, and made sure the judge saw her wide-eyed incredulous expression. “But of course, you’re the expert, right?”

  “I’m the boy’s father. But it’s not just me. Dr. Dunn has also testified as an expert that the chimp visits are beneficial. The entire Weller Institute has geared up for Tommy’s chimp interactions.”

  But I caught Korbovitch sizing me up with a skeptical eye before he took more notes.

  After I sat down next to Mark, Beaman presented two more witnesses from Weller, child psychologists, but they didn’t offer much evidence as far as I could see, just an explanation of these so-called studies that seemed bogus and contrived to me. But the judge listened carefully and actually asked a question or two himself before they’d finished. Then Mark presented Rekulak, Dr. Evans, and finally Rachel, all explaining their expertise and testifying as to the benefits of chimp therapy.

  Dr. Rekulak stated that Tommy was providing remarkable insights into the mind of nonhuman primates and as a primatologist for the past twenty-five years, “I’ve never seen anything like this my entire career. Never.” Rachel also hit the ground running, saying that her observations regarding Tommy’s chimp affinities had gone far beyond her expectations. She reiterated the studies as presented by Dr. Dunn, showing fluency rates as Tommy’s speech progressed while in the presence of the chimps. The judge listened to these expert testimonies with interest.

  The biggest moment was when Carly Yates herself took the stand. Mark hadn’t told me she was even coming. Talk about a media sensation. The reporters went wild. Ms. Yates entered the courtroom just as the judge was going to end the session. Mark kept looking at his watch, wondering if she’d arrive. When she got on the stand, she explained all she’d gone through with her own autistic nephew. She praised me and Tommy and told the judge that the Weller Institute had an amazing opportunity with Tommy.

  “This is the kind of research that is unparalleled,” Ms. Yates said. “To deny Tommy and Weller the chance to see this research through would be a black eye on science itself.”

  “Thank you for coming,” Korbovitch said when she was done.

  Ms. Yates left the courtroom with two assistants following her. Reporters breathed down her neck, taking pictures, shoving microphones in her face. As far as I could tell, she appeared totally used to it, nonplussed, taking it all in stride.

  I felt that we’d presented as good a case as was possible. The only problem was that Beaman had put up a damn good case herself. Basically, I’d bet the farm and I was exhausted. Bolts of anger rushed through me at the system itself, the need to even go through with this hearing and to face off with Cheryl, forced to sever my relationship with Tommy’s mother in an ugly confrontation.

  Even if I won, which seemed more like a coin toss than anything else, I was still going to lose so much.

  Chapter 15

  The day of Korbovitch’s decision left me jangling inside with the kind of fear I hadn’t known since the awful day of Tommy’s diagnosis when he was two years old. My entire body ached. I felt like I was coming down with the flu. My nerves were frazzled. Knowing that Rachel was going to Africa only added to the pain. She’d told me yesterday over the phone. I tried to sound casual as she talked, but inside, I was churning away.

  Putting Max out in the backyard after a long, farewell hug, Max’s ponderous eyes on mine, I left the house in a fog, got in my car, and forgot how to get to the courtroom. My breathing came hard and fast. I panicked. I was that lost emotionally, geographically, a human being sitting at a red light at an intersection I couldn’t recognize. Devinshire Street, something like that. I didn’t know which way to turn—the story of my life. I had to stop by the side of the road, take a few deep breaths, and get my bearings.

  Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the courtroom as it started to thunder and rain outside. I was wearing my best dark-grey suit, waiting for the judge to appear. Each moment felt like it was ticking away; a time-bomb. Mark sat next to me, shuffling papers, checking his phone for messages.

  “You did your best,” I said to him, my lips dry. I swallowed some bottled water and nearly choked.

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “We both did our best. It’s out of our hands
now.”

  My father sat stiffly in the back on the courtroom, accompanied by Belinda. He looked straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with me. This was his way. Just like Tommy, he had a hard time with eye contact as well. We’d talked several times about the hearing over the phone, but all I could tell him was that the verdict was completely up in the air.

  The Weller staff was present, Dr. Dunn, Rekulak, Dr. Evans, and Rachel. They all looked pensive. Beaman, for some reason, appeared relaxed. For the first time, a smile broached her face as she talked to Cheryl. Did Beaman know something I didn’t? I wouldn’t be surprised.

  The usual reporters were lined up in the back as well. The possibility of Tommy “talking” with chimps was still a newsworthy fire they were trying their best to blow on and inflame. Evidently, their bosses still saw ratings possibilities. Several spots on TV had been aired and I’d learned that the TV stations’ phones were blowing up with calls from San Diegans wanting to know more about the story. Was national news next?

  Korbovitch finally trooped into the room, which suddenly grew stone quiet. My stomach turned over. With his black-robes on, he sat down in a huff and put on his bifocals. Surely, this was just another day at the office to him. For me, it was the biggest day of my life. He peered out at us, his face stern, his grey eyes burning with judicial resolve.

  He silently read through his notes for what felt like an eternity, flipping through papers. Finally, he spoke in his smooth voice, a voice that I could now mimic fairly well. “I believe both sides have done a reasonably good job presenting their arguments,” Korbovitch said. The judge looked at Cheryl, Beaman, Mark, then finally at me, his eyes lingering on me, studying me like I was some crazed father-creature from the wilds of suburbia. “However,” he finally continued, “the benefit of the boy is what I must think of first and foremost, not the father’s or the mother’s wishes. Truly, this has been his hearing.”

  The judge ruffled some papers, his brow so wrinkled no amount of emotional ironing would help.

  “I’ve read all about this Acorn School in Texas from various sources, including psychologists’ data, general news articles, and, of course from the data provided by Ms. Beaman,” he said. “The expert opinion seems to show real merit and validity. I’ve perused their research, and even though it’s a new school, I must say, I’m impressed.”