Trueman Bradley - Aspie Detective

  “Just because he has Asperger’s?” asked Nora.

  “That’s discrimination!” said Mrs. Levi. “It’s not fair!”

  I looked at the papers. I knew they would be bad news. I had been so successful, until recently, that I had almost forgotten I had Asperger’s. I had friends who didn’t mind that I thought differently; the newspapers called me a genius; police and detectives trusted me. I had felt so accepted and valued that I felt like a new Trueman Bradley. But now, I felt like the old Trueman Bradley. The one who had lived in Heartville and was called “different” and “strange” by everyone, except his granddad. I was, once again, being discriminated against for having Asperger’s and it stung me like a cut from a knife.

  “I’m stupid!” I said. “Because of my stupidity, you lost your job and now I’m in trouble with the State Department!”

  I was filled with frustration and self-hatred. I looked at the wrist TV I’d invented and felt a powerful hatred for it. I threw it down on the ground as hard as I could. It made a loud crackling sound and broke into pieces.

  “What are you doing?” asked Rozzozzo.

  “Stupid!” I shouted. “I’m stupid! My inventions don’t work! My equations don’t work! Stokowski’s right, I have mental problems! I’m just weird! I should have listened to you and shouldn’t have even tried to be a detective! I’m too stupid to be a detective! I’ll just go back to Heartville…”

  “Will you stop that!” said Buckley. “For the love of God, stop putting yourself down like that! Look, Trueman. Sorry, I can see you’re upset, but can’t you see why I quit the police? I quit because I don’t think you’re stupid! I was so mad about Stokowski calling you stupid, that I quit! I’ll be damned if I’m gonna work for a prejudiced guy like Stokowski. What’s more, Trueman, I’m gonna help you. I’m gonna go with you to that court hearing and I’m gonna defend you! I know you’re smart! You’re smart as hell! Smarter than me! And I’m gonna prove it to that idiot Stokowski, and the court. Before we’re through, Trueman, everyone’s gonna know Asperger’s doesn’t mean you’re stupid. Before we’re done, this whole city will know!”

  “But how can you think I’m smart?” I asked. “My equation didn’t work at La Guardia airport. You arrested the wrong man.”

  “Well, sure,” said Buckley. “But I know your equations work. Probably, I just used that wrist thingy wrong or something. I said, I’m not too good with technology! I probably inputted the data wrong or something. Whatever happened, I’m 100 percent sure it wasn’t your mistake. Because you’ve got a real eye for details. I never seen you make a mistake.”

  “It’s true,” I said. “It was not my mistake. Dr. Rozzozzo did not put the correct equation into the computer of the wrist TV. She put a zero where an infinity sign should be.”

  Rozzozzo was picking the pieces of my broken wrist TV off the floor. She looked at Buckley and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Computers can’t do everything,” said Rozzozzo. “The wrist TV can’t execute Trueman’s equation because computers don’t understand mathematical infinity. Not even an experienced inventor, such as myself, could make a computer understand infinity. You’ll have to use Trueman’s brain, instead.”

  “There!” said Buckley. “You see? It wasn’t your fault! I knew it all along. And you’re smarter than a computer? That’s something! I wish I could say the same about myself. See, Trueman? You’re smart as hell. There’s the proof right there. Now all we got to do is convince that hearing officer how smart you are. Don’t worry about it, I’ll think of a way.”

  “Me too!” said Nora. “I’m a licensed detective! I’ll let those jerks know how good a detective Trueman is! With two detectives testifying for him, we’re sure to win the court case. Don’t worry about it, Trueman, Buckley and me are here to help.”

  “Me too!” said Sal. “I know the law! I’ll serve as your legal representative. We won’t let them hurt you, boss!”

  “I’ll help too!” said Mrs. Levi. “After all, I was the one who didn’t mention your Asperger’s on the application form. I’m the one who deserves to be punished, not Trueman! Don’t you worry, dear. Your friends are here to help you through this!”

  I looked around the room and felt lucky to have such loyal and supportive friends. I smiled at them in the hope they would understand how much I appreciated their friendship. I was comforted to know I was not facing Stokowski and the State Department alone. But although I was comforted, I was still worried. Even if the future was not as scary as I had first imagined, my plans had gone horribly wrong. I thought about my visual checklist of today’s activities and how many mistakes had been made. What happened today was so different from what I had planned that I felt sick with confusion and worry.

  I watched as Rozzozzo crawled on the floor. She picked pieces of broken wrist TV and made grumbling noises. As I watched her, I wished I could invent a machine that could warn me if something unexpected was going to happen. Then I could avoid unpredictable, disturbing days like this. If I could make inventions that told me the likelihood of falling, then I could also invent a machine that told me the likelihood of something unpredictable happening. I felt so comforted by the thought of having such an invention that I couldn’t stop thinking of it and forgot about the presence of my friends.

  “If I had an invention like that,” I said to myself, “I would never need to endure an unexpected surprise. This job would be easier. I would never be shocked like this again.”

  “What?” asked Buckley.

  “Oh, nothing,” I said. “I was talking to myself.”

  It became windy outside and cool, wet air blew into my office. Mrs. Levi ran to close the window. I could see my big blackboard reflected in the darkened glass of the window. The sight of the blackboard inspired me to do math. I started to get up from the settee.

  “Trueman!” said Nora. “The doctor said you should lie down until tomorrow!”

  “I know,” I said, “but I need to do something very important. Would you mind leaving me alone? I need to make a new equation. This equation could solve all of our problems.”

  “But Trueman, you’ll get sick again!” said Nora.

  “No,” I said. “I must invent this equation so that I will never faint again. I got sick because unexpected things happened to me. Surprises make me ill. This equation I’m going to invent will predict all surprises and so I will never get sick again. So, you see, I must get up and work on the equation. Because it will ensure I’ll never get sick again.”

  Everyone was quiet. I didn’t know if they were quiet because of the logic of my argument or because they were confused by my argument.

  “I need to be alone to work on it,” I said.

  They seemed to understand me, because everyone started to leave the room. Nora walked towards me and touched my arm.

  “Call me if you need anything,” she said.

  “I will,” I said.

  Nora left the room and I was alone with my blackboard. I turned on my music player and lit a candle, to create the proper “bubble” of concentration. Now I was ready to invent an equation. I grabbed a piece of chalk and began scratching numbers on the blackboard. Outside, I could see lightning flashes. At first, they distracted me, and I wanted to close the curtains. But then I had a thought that inspired me.

  “Lightning is unpredictable,” I said. “It is like a symbol for the surprises that I can’t endure. I think the lightning is protesting because I am inventing the equation that will protect me from unpredictable things. This equation will be my shield from any future shocks. I just need to invent it…”

  My legs felt weak and the lightning flashes addled my senses, but I continued writing and concentrating on the logic of my thought patterns. I was confident I’d find an answer.

  “Everything can be summed up into an equation,” I said.

  *

  I sat in a chair, surrounded by fluttering papers. The wind was blowing through the agency office and making all the papers on
the nearby desks rustle. All around me, my friends were running around and busily working. But I was not paying very much attention to my surroundings. I was sitting and sipping a cup of tea. I sat in a big, comfortable chair that Sal had bought for the office. Nora had wrapped me in warm blankets and Mrs. Levi had made me tea and raspberry lemon cake. I was feeling very tense and they sat me here to help relax me.

  I had read that Asperger’s was related to a condition called “autism.” People with autism have difficulty communicating with the outside world. They are sometimes unaware of other people. Asperger’s is supposed to be similar to autism, but with less extreme symptoms. I was never certain if this is true, because I am very aware of other people, and some other people I have known who had autism were also very aware of other people. It seemed to me the label of “autism” was full of unfair and illogical generalizations that amounted to a prejudice. And so, I never identified myself as autistic.

  But sometimes, when I was especially nervous or afraid of something, I would hide in myself, like a turtle hiding in its shell. I called this type of hiding “becoming autistic.” When I had explained this to Nora, she assured me that most people would hide in themselves if they became afraid of the world, and so it was not something only autistics did. But I liked to call this state of hiding “becoming autistic” because this is how I imagined it would feel like to be unaware of the world. According to the assumptions of society, this is how people with autism felt at all times. I knew it was false, but remaining in this “autistic” state helped me to feel safe and secure.

  We were leaving to meet the hearing officer soon. Even though I knew I had good friends to defend me, I was still terrified at the thought of going to a court and being accused of something. I feared the negative attention; I feared the aggressive Stokowski; I feared the unpredictable events that surely would happen. I sat in the comfortable chair and “felt autistic.” I didn’t want to deal with reality or the world around me, so I convinced myself there was no world outside me.

  “Trueman?” asked Buckley. “Hey! Anybody home?”

  Buckley waved his hand in front of my face.

  “Boss!” said Sal. “We got to go now, boss!”

  I understood that we would be going to the court house to meet the hearing officer, but I felt too “autistic” to reply. I didn’t want to go. It had been a week since I had first learned about the charges against me, but I still didn’t feel ready to go to court. I wanted to sit in my chair and be “autistic.”

  Sal and Buckley looked at each other and seemed to be talking about how to make me move. Sal noticed the thick postal letter that was in my hands and he took it from me.

  “What’s this, boss?” asked Sal. “Mail? Ah, yes. I see this letter is addressed to Dr. Rozzozzo. My eccentric friend! Do you want me to put postage stamps on it and send it to her?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  Remembering the letter to Rozzozzo caused me to come out of my “autistic” state. During this last week, I had designed an invention that could warn me of anything unpredictable. The thought of having such an invention comforted me so much that I felt a new sense of bravery. This invention would stop the world from being unpredictable and shocking. And so, going to court and meeting the hearing officer would be the last truly shocking and unpredictable experience of my career. Knowing this would probably be the last such experience, I felt brave enough to come out of my “autistic” state. I rose from the chair and Nora unwrapped the blankets from my body.

  “Ready to go, boss?” asked Sal.

  I nodded my head to indicate I was ready and Nora led me to the front door. As she was helping me to put on my coat, a flash of light blinded me. I screamed and fell to the floor.

  “Get out of here!” shouted Nora.

  “I’ll get him! The damned jerk!” said Buckley.

  I was temporarily blinded and confused. I thought Buckley and Nora were talking to me. I was terrified by how quickly the unexpected and shocking events were happening. Did Buckley and Nora just blind me and threaten me?

  “Leave me alone!” I shouted.

  “Trueman, relax!” said Nora.

  My vision returned to normal and I felt Nora’s hands stroking my hair. She was comforting me. Outside the glass of the front door, I could see Buckley. He was swinging his fists at a man and shouting something. I realized what had happened.

  “There are a lot of newspaper reporters outside,” I said.

  “Yeah!” said Nora. “They took a picture of you.”

  “That was a camera flash?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Now, get up, Trueman. Everybody? Let’s all form a circle around Trueman and protect him. We’re going to go out to the Lincoln car, okay Trueman? We’ll stay in a protective circle around you, okay? Just keep calm.”

  Nora, Sal and Mrs. Levi formed a triangle of protection around me and we walked out onto the street. I heard a lot of reporters yelling and saw cameras flashing. I closed my eyes and tried to stay in the triangle of protection.

  “I’m safe in the triangle of friendship,” I said.

  “That’s right, Trueman,” said Nora. “Now, just stay calm. We’re almost at the car.”

  I kept my eyes closed, so I wouldn’t be surprised by another blinding flash. I felt the hands of my friends, pushing and pulling on my trench coat. Soon I felt soft leather against my hands and recognized the feel of the Lincoln car’s seats.

  I opened my eyes and saw the inside of the car. Sal was in the driver’s seat, Buckley sat next to him. I sat in the back of the car, protected on both sides by Nora and Mrs. Levi. Outside, reporters were looking in at me and pointing their cameras. Nora and Mrs. Levi shielded me from the flashes by using their coats to cover the windows.

  Sal started the car and we were soon free of the pushy, unpredictable journalists. We drove down Reade Street and I watched the pedestrians, too disturbed in my mind to observe them and take note of their numbers. I was tense, but tried to take comfort in the knowledge that Rozzozzo would soon make an invention that could shield me from such things, and this was possibly the last time I’d ever be so shocked and disturbed.

  “Turn this way, Sal,” said Buckley. “We’re going to the Manhattan criminal court house.”

  “Criminal?” I asked. “Why am I going to a criminal court? Am I being charged with a serious crime? I thought I was only charged with applying for my license incorrectly?”

  “Relax, Trueman!” said Buckley. “The State Department decides where the hearing happens. They decided to have the hearing in a courtroom at the Manhattan criminal court building. I guess one of the courtrooms was free, so that’s why they chose it for the hearing. It doesn’t mean you’re being charged with any kind of criminal offense. So, relax.”

  “Oh, good,” I said.

  “In fact, it just might be a good thing,” said Buckley. “Because there aren’t any cameras or anything allowed in the Manhattan criminal court building, so all those reporters can’t follow us in there. Those jerks are still following us, huh?”

  I looked out the window and saw a car pass us. In the window was a reporter pointing a camera at me. I hid my face, so as to avoid being blinded again. I tried to comfort myself by imagining my new invention.

  “I think I’ll call it the ‘surprise revealer,’” I said.

  “What?” asked Nora.

  “I was just talking to myself,” I said. “Sal? Did you send that postal letter to Dr. Rozzozzo yet?”

  “Oh, no I didn’t,” said Sal. “Look, there’s a mailbox. We’ll just stop here for a second and I’ll send this letter.”

  Sal stopped the car and stepped out onto the street. After we stopped, reporters parked beside us and started crowding around our Lincoln car like a swarm of bees around a flower. I saw flashes of light and closed my eyes. I hid my face behind my hands. I comforted myself by thinking of my new invention.

  “Sal sent the letter,” I said. “I’ll have the new surprise revealer. This is th
e last unpredictable day I need to endure.”

  *

  The Manhattan criminal court building is built in a similar architectural style to the Marine Air Terminal. Entering the building, we had continued to be harassed by reporters. But I could ignore the noise and commotion by concentrating on the beautiful “art deco” design of the criminal court building.

  Now inside the courtroom, Sal, Buckley, Nora, Mrs. Levi and I sat at a table in front of the judge’s bench. Chief Stokowski sat at another table to our right. He stared at me in a way that made me nervous and I hid my face behind my hands. But no matter how completely I covered my eyes and ears, I could still hear the voices of the dozens of reporters in the room.

  Detective Buckley had been wrong when he said the reporters would leave us alone after we entered the court house. It was true that cameras and recording devices were not allowed in the court house, but most of the reporters decided to leave their cameras outside and followed us into the courtroom anyway. Dozens of them sat in the back and talked loudly to each other. Each of them carried a notebook and pen, ready to write down anything that was said or anything that happened.

  The noise of the journalists, who threatened to write down everything I did and tell the world; the frightening stare of Stokowski; the possibility that I might be declared “mentally incompetent” and be discriminated against: all of this made me feel tense and my hands were shaking. In my confusion, I had forgotten my portable music player at the agency office and so I could not escape the noise. I covered my ears, but could still hear. Every time I heard a loud, unexpected noise, I would wince, believing it was a sign that something bad was happening.

  “Alright, everyone settle down!”

  A tall, gray-haired man had entered the courtroom. He wore a neatly pressed suit with pinstripes and a matching tie. He carried a big, black briefcase and the intensity of his eyes intimidated me. He climbed up to the judge’s bench and sat there. With horror, I realized that he was the hearing officer. This intimidating man who spoke in a merciless, commanding voice was the man who would decide if I was capable of being a detective or if my Asperger’s meant that I was mentally incompetent. I was sure this hard man would condemn me.