by Jeremy Bates
“Don’t sweat it, Roy. Don’t sweat it at all. I’ll have you out of there in no time.”
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There was no longer a municipal courthouse in the City of Berkeley, so midmorning Dr. Wallis was driven to the Superior Court in Oakland for his arraignment, during which he pleaded not guilty. The district attorney, a fussy, gaunt man named Edward Prince, did his damnedest to fight Wallis’ bail request, while Don Finke argued that Dr. Wallis was a reputable university professor and stalwart of the community and no flight risk. In the end, after more than twenty minutes of back-and-forth, the presiding judge ruled, “Bail is granted in the sum of five hundred thousand dollars.”
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Three days later district attorney Edward Prince charged Dr. Wallis with five counts of involuntary manslaughter, just as the Sleep Experiment was becoming a bona fide international phenomenon. On a purely criminal level, the experiment involved a mass murder that had claimed the lives of five people. Given the self-mutilations and violent deaths involved, it rivaled the sensationalism of the 1969 Tate murders. Add to this Dr. Wallis’ public claims that the killer, Chad Carter, had been possessed by a madness that resided at the core of all of humanity, a madness largely kept in check only by the miraculous powers of sleep—well, you had a media blitzkrieg the likes of which had not been witnessed in recent history.
While the vast majority of the public believed Dr. Wallis to be running some sort of publicity hoax, this didn’t stop his name from entering the daily lexicon of every major newscaster and talk show host in America, or the phrase “Demon Souls” from becoming one of the top trending hashtags across social media sites the world over.
Indeed, the buildup to what became dubbed the latest and greatest “Trial of the Century” could not be understated, and the criminal case against Dr. Roy Wallis commenced to global fanfare four months later on October 14, 2018. It was heard in the San Francisco Hall of Justice complex. The granite-clad building housed the Sheriff’s Department, the County Jail, as well as various municipal courts, and until recently it served as the location of the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner. The courtroom selected for the trial featured paneled oak walls, a coffered ceiling, and linoleum flooring. Hanging on the wall at the front of the room, behind the imposing mahogany bench, was the seal of the jurisdiction, bookended by the flags of the federal and state governments. Adjacent to the bench was the currently empty witness stand, as well as desks behind which the court clerk and court reporter were seated. Against the left-hand wall was the jury box, occupied by the twelve jurors, six men, six women, all white.
For the last three weeks they had patiently listened to accusations and counter-accusations and expert testimony by more than two dozen witnesses, which included the chief of forensic pathology at the coroner’s office, SFPD detectives in the robbery homicide division, various doctors, a toxicologist, a narcotics expert, a computer forensics examiner, and a physician specializing in internal medicine. And today, the final day of the trial, they would hear the prosecution’s and defense’s closing arguments.
Dr. Wallis sat at the defense table, handsome, composed, and meticulously dressed in a black tailored suit and matching silk tie. Ever since he had become a household name, there had been nearly as much discussion in the media regarding his looks, his style—and even his beard—as there had been about his guilt or innocence, or his Demon Soul theory. He had amassed a legion of female fans from as far away as New Zealand and Japan who mailed him over a thousand letters a week, in which he often found racy photographs and propositions of marriage. On several occasions during the trial women had catcalled to him from the packed gallery, prompting the presiding judge to twice clear the courtroom and once threaten to close it to the public for the remainder of the proceedings.
Nevertheless, not everybody who came to watch the criminal case against Dr. Wallis supported him. Some displayed neither adoration nor sympathy, but enmity and expectation. They despised him for his wealth and his attractiveness and the cult-like status he had garnered, and they wanted nothing more than to see him cut down to size.
At nine o’clock sharp, the uniformed bailiff called the court to order.
Everybody rose as Judge Amanda Callahan, clad in plain black robes, entered the courtroom and took her seat behind the bench. At her prompting, District Attorney Edward Prince went to the lectern between the two counsel tables and addressed the jury. He had proven himself to be a skilled and able prosecutor, and in simple, broad strokes, he outlined the State’s case against Dr. Roy Wallis. He argued that Dr. Wallis was a dangerously ambitious man who had put the success of the Sleep Experiment above all else. When the two test subjects began to demonstrate severe mental and physical deterioration, far from ending the experiment, or even temporarily suspending it, he continued full steam ahead, consequences be damned.
Edward Prince concluded his address by saying, “The events set in motion four months ago are now at a close. On June 14 crimes of ghastly proportions were committed. On that day a young girl ripped her heart from her chest and a young man murdered three other people in brutal fashion before his own life was taken—five lives squandered and gone forever. The questions that had been on everybody’s mind from coast to coast, and indeed across the world, were, How could this have ever been allowed to happen? And who should be held accountable? Well, those questions have come to rest right here in this courtroom, and it’s fallen to you as members of this jury to answer them.
“Based on the evidence presented to you over these last three weeks, based on what you’ve heard and seen, the answers are clear. The tragedy should never have been allowed to happen, and the defendant, Dr. Roy Wallis, must be held accountable, for he is guilty of criminal gross negligence.
“Everyone in this courtroom agrees that Dr. Roy Wallis, as the person in charge of the notorious Sleep Experiment, is responsible for the deaths of the five unfortunate victims. This is not up for debate. The defense believes it. The State believes it. Sharon Nash’s life didn’t have to end on a bathroom floor with her heart clutched in her hand. Brook Foxley didn’t have to die slowly and terrifyingly from asphyxiation due to a broken neck. Officer Roger Henn, a husband and father of two boys, didn’t have to lose his life to Chad Carter, his intestines torn from his stomach.
“So this case isn’t about whether Dr. Roy Wallis is responsible for the massacre or not. This case is about whether his conduct during the Sleep Experiment constitutes not just negligence but criminal negligence—and the State submits to you, ladies and gentlemen, that it most certainly does.
“You have heard several instructions from the judge over the course of the trial. The State would like to refresh your memory on a couple of them.
“The first is the character instruction that stated you may consider the character of the defendant in assessing his guilt or innocence. The defense will have you believe Dr. Roy Wallis is an upstanding citizen, a respected university professor and scientist, and an all-around good guy. However, do not forget the witness testimonies that described him as an alcoholic, a serial womanizer, a playboy who lives in a multi-million-dollar penthouse, and a delusional megalomaniac whose ambition has no limit.
“Another instruction the State would like you to remember referred to callous disregard of human life. The judge put the definition of callous in parentheses, because it was important for you to make the distinction as to whether the deaths of the five victims were the result of simple negligence, or negligence so gross, wanton, and culpable as to show a callous disregard of human life. The State would now like to remind you the definition of callous is “showing or having an insensitive and cruel disregard for others,” and this would most certainly encompass the cruel disregard present in this case. Fourteen days of cruel disregard, in fact.
“In successfully tried cases of involuntary manslaughter against motorists under the influence of drugs or alcohol—the most common case of involuntary manslaughter heard by the courts—the kill
ings happen in a flash.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis. “It’s momentary. In the case against Dr. Roy Wallis, on the other hand, the deaths of the five victims weren’t momentary, nor did they occur in a momentary lapse. The defendant had fourteen days to end the experiment, fourteen days, which was the time it took for two young people to literally lose their minds while under his supervision. It was in his power all along to stop the Sleep Experiment when it began spiraling out of control, but he never did so. The defense would like you to believe that Dr. Roy Wallis had no forewarning that Chad Carter or Sharon Nash would become dangers to themselves or to others. But how can you possibly believe this claim? The day before the massacre they covered the viewing window into the sleep laboratory with their own feces—covered the window with their own feces. Now, I might not be an acclaimed psychology professor—but I don’t need to be—to deduce that these people needed help. Help that Dr. Wallis denied them for fourteen long days.”
Edward Prince walked toward the jury box.
“Everyone is entitled to what we refer to as self-evident truths: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Chad Carter, Sharon Nash, Guru Rampal, Brook Foxley, and Roger Henn had a right to life, to experience joy and love and disappointment that comes with life too, to grow old and die peacefully…but because of Dr. Roy Wallis’ callous disregard of human life, because of his blind and reckless ambition, their lives, liberties, and pursuits of happiness were stolen from them.
“Don’t be fooled into thinking the defendant should get a pass because his scientific research was special or noble, or because he shed a new insight into the human condition. Even if his claims of so-called Demon Souls are ever independently verified, he still shouldn’t get a pass. You must make the same decision about Dr. Roy Wallis’ callous reckless actions as you would about anyone else’s. It doesn’t matter if you believe he had good intentions in undertaking his experiment. That’s a sentencing issue. That’s not a guilt/innocence issue.”
Edward Prince spread his arms.
“So when it’s all said and done, Chad, Sharon, Guru, Brook, and Roger didn’t have to die how they died. They shouldn’t have died how they died. Dr. Roy Wallis should have ended the notorious Sleep Experiment well before it reached its bloody conclusion. The fact he didn’t displays not just negligent conduct on his part but criminally negligent conduct that is gross, willful, wanton, and culpable.
“Thus the State asks you to find the defendant guilty of involuntary manslaughter based on all of the circumstances presented here. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the decision is in your hands. Thank you.”
You could hear a pin drop in the courtroom as the scrawny Edward Prince returned to his seat behind the prosecution table. Dr. Wallis averted his eyes from the jurors, for the faces he had come to know so well the last three weeks now appeared cold and unfriendly.
Judge Amanda Callahan said, “Mr. Wilks, are you going to close for the defense?”
“I am, Your Honor, may it please the Court.”
Stephen Wilks, a former judge himself, was a short, portly man with a receding hairline, out-of-fashion red muttonchops, and heavy eyeglasses that seemed to magnify the size of his eyeballs behind the lenses. Dressed in an unassuming tweed suit and scuffed loafers, he ambled to the lectern. He shuffled through his papers, then looked up, blinking, as if awed by his formal surroundings. At first glance he was the antithesis of the flashy defense attorneys usually retained by wealthy defendants accused of felonies, yet he was one of the most respected criminal lawyers in the country. He held the impressive record of never having lost a major case in his career, which was why Dr. Wallis had chosen him to lead his defense team.
“Five people are dead and somebody must pay,” Stephen Wilks began, pushing his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose. “You heard it from the witnesses, and you heard it from most of Mr. Prince’s closing argument. Right to life. Right to grow old. Five people dead; someone must pay. Dr. Roy Wallis must pay. Well, on one level, the defendant will pay. He’ll pay for the rest of his life, but that’s not what this case is about. It’s about whether you the jury can find beyond a reasonable doubt that the deaths of the five victims were the direct result of criminal negligence on the part of Dr. Wallis, criminal negligence that was so gross and wanton and culpable as to show callous disregard for human life.
“So let’s look at what facts the State has used to argue that Dr. Wallis acted with callous disregard for the lives of the victims, what they think they have proven beyond a reasonable doubt. Their main argument is that Dr. Wallis did not stop the experiment early enough. However, the Court has instructed you time and time again that the fact the defendant did not end the experiment sooner, in and of itself, is not enough to justify a conviction of involuntary manslaughter. It doesn’t show Dr. Wallis had a callous disregard for his test subjects’ wellbeing. Thanks to the meticulous notes recorded by the defendant and his two assistants, we’ve had access and insight into the hour-by-hour functioning of his test subjects’ minds. And, yes, while some of their symptoms might seem alarming to you, particularly as they approached the end of the Sleep Experiment, there were zero red flags indicating they posed dangers to themselves or to others. Dr. Wallis didn’t know they would snap to the extent they did. After all, he didn’t expose them to torture. He simply deprived them of sleep. He didn’t know what the full repercussions of this would entail—for that was the exact purpose of the experiment!”
Stephen Wilks scratched his head, and for a moment he seemed to have lost his train of thought. But then just as the jury members began fiddling uncomfortably in the silence, he said, “The act of not knowing, ladies and gentlemen, is an involuntary act. You don’t intentionally not know something because then it isn’t something you don’t know. It’s something you’re ignoring. If you ignore something, that’s different than not knowing it. Dr. Wallis didn’t ignore any red flags in his test subjects. He simply didn’t know what was going to happen. And although the act of not knowing is an involuntary act, it doesn’t meet the standard of involuntary manslaughter because it doesn’t prove criminal negligence.
“Now, when events did make a turn for the worse, and it was clear the test subjects did become a danger to themselves and others, if—if—Dr. Wallis had done nothing at this point, then I would not be arguing before you in his defense, because he most certainly would be guilty of criminal negligence. But this is not what happened at all. As soon as Guru Rampal informed him that he was concerned about Sharon Nash, Dr. Wallis attempted to help her. Unfortunately, by that time, there was nothing he could do. So he immediately terminated the experiment, shutting off the gas, and went to assess the other test subject, who suddenly and inexplicably attacked Guru Rampal. At this point did Dr. Wallis run? No, he did not. According to his own testimony, he valiantly wrestled Chad off Guru, suffering a nasty gash to his head, and blacked out. When he came to a short time later, he found his assistant Guru Rampal dead, his girlfriend Brook Foxley dead, and Chad Carter savagely attacking Roger Henn. Again, did he run or hide? No, he did nothing of the sort, and although he was not able to save Mr. Henn, his actions could not be described as anything but heroic.”
Stephen Wilks ambled from the lectern to the jury box and smiled timidly at the men and women seated there. “Please don’t be swayed by the gruesome way in which the four victims perished,” he said. “Their deaths are in every way a tragedy, but not every tragedy is a crime. Allow me a moment to read some of the judge’s instruction to you.” He produced a piece of paper from his pocket. “If you find that the facts are susceptible to two different interpretations, one of which is consistent with the innocence of the defendant, you cannot arbitrarily adopt the interpretation which incriminates the defendant. Instead, the interpretation more favorable to the defendant should be adopted unless it is untenable, under all the circumstances. The evidence must not only be consistent with guilt, but it must be inconsistent with every reasonable hypothesis of innocence.”
Stephen Wilks tucked the paper away.
“So you see, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “the action of keeping two individuals awake with a stimulant gas is simply not enough to warrant a conviction of involuntary manslaughter. Yes, there are five dead individuals. Yes, Dr. Wallis, as their supervisor, is responsible for those deaths. He has never denied this. But the question at hand is whether a criminal, a felon, stands before you. If you are unsure of your position on this, even in the slightest bit, then the State has not proven beyond a reasonable doubt that Dr. Roy Wallis is guilty of callous disregard of life, and you must rule in his favor. And he is innocent, ladies and gentlemen, for if the State had shown that he knew Chad Carter and Sharon Nash were a danger to themselves and to others, and continued with the experiment, then that would have been involuntary manslaughter. Heck, I’d be happy to argue the case that it was voluntary manslaughter. Yet, to the contrary, the State did not prove this at all, and so I ask of you to understand that, despite whatever you think of the Sleep Experiment, or Dr. Wallis himself, he is not a criminal, and there is only one verdict you can possibly reach. Not guilty.”
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The jury was out for four hours. Dr. Roy Wallis watched as they filed back into the courtroom. Although he remained outwardly calm, he felt as though a nest of snakes were slithering inside his stomach. A guilty verdict, while not the end of his life, would be devastating. He could not afford to spend the next five years in prison. He had so much work yet to do!
Judge Amanda Callahan asked, “Has the jury reached a verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor.” The jury foreman held up a piece of paper pinched between his fingers.
“Would the bailiff get the verdict, please?”
The bailiff went to the juror, took the piece of paper, and passed it to the judge. She opened it, read the contents, then looked up. “The jury finds the defendant not guilty.”