Trueman Bradley - Aspie Detective

  The courtroom was silent and I tried not to disturb the silence. But it was hard for me to be quiet, because I felt I would start crying. Nora had never told me how she felt about me and her words made me so happy, I felt like sobbing. It was so comforting to know she understood me and accepted me, in spite of my different way of thinking. I wanted to run towards her and embrace her, but I didn’t want to disturb the court. Everything seemed to be proceeding well and I didn’t want to risk angering the hearing officer by making a disturbance. I hid my face and discreetly wiped the tears from my eyes.

  “Thank you,” said Tritch. “I think I speak for everyone here when I say your words in defense of Mr. Trueman Bradley were moving. I think I begin to understand Asperger’s Syndrome. And I don’t see any reason to call Mr. Bradley’s symptoms disabling. If anything, I’d be willing to classify the symptoms you describe as a genetic improvement! After all, if Asperger’s makes a person more logical, then maybe it’s Asperger’s that made Mr. Bradley invent these ‘miracle equations’ we’ve all been reading about in the newspapers. If Asperger’s makes people mathematical geniuses, then maybe it’s an improved way of…”

  “No, sir,” interrupted Nora. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but my cousin, who I grew up with and had Asperger’s, wasn’t a mathematical genius. He just thought differently from how I do and you do. He thought similarly to Trueman… but he wasn’t a mathematical genius. Trueman just happens to be a mathematical genius, but that doesn’t mean all people with Asperger’s are. All it proves is that people with Asperger’s can be geniuses too! People with Asperger’s can be anything we can! They are people just like us who have the same human needs and the same human potential. With all due respect, Mr. Tritch, the point isn’t whether Asperger’s people are good at math or even in any way better or worse than the rest of us! The point is simply that no one should be discriminated against for thinking in a different way. Whether they are Asperger’s, autistic or what!”

  Tritch glared at Stokowski.

  “I certainly agree,” said Tritch. “Although, mathematical geniuses or not, I still wonder if people with Asperger’s Syndrome might have an improved way of thinking, especially when I compare Mr. Bradley to so-called ‘normal’ individuals like our Chief Stokowski here! May I ask you, Chief, why you brought this charge against Mr. Bradley, if Asperger’s Syndrome is not a ‘disabling’ mental condition? You had no right to do that! I am now certain your charges were motivated by your own prejudices and I will be recommending you be charged with violation of Mr. Trueman Bradley’s basic civil rights!”

  “Please, sir!” said Stokowski. “Just let me speak!”

  Tritch stared at Stokowski severely.

  “I’ll let you speak,” said Tritch, “but only because I’m certain that whatever you have to say will probably only serve to further convince me of your guilt.”

  Stokowski coughed nervously and stood up. He took a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wiped his sweaty brow.

  “Now, sir,” said Stokowski, “if you’ll examine the charges I laid against Mr. Trueman Bradley, you’ll notice that I didn’t only charge him with ‘material misstatement.’ I also charged that Mr. Bradley should lose his license because he has ‘proven himself incompetent.’ Now, isn’t it true that if Mr. Bradley has proven himself incompetent as a detective, the punishment is to revoke his license? Isn’t that the law?”

  Tritch picked up the paper that outlined the charges against me and nodded his head.

  “That’s true,” said Tritch. “If you can prove that he has proven himself incompetent, then his license could be revoked.”

  “Well, sir,” said Stokowski, “Mr. Trueman Bradley used a faulty equation to make one of my detectives arrest the wrong man. Those supposedly ‘magical’ equations of Mr. Bradley’s don’t work! So he’s proven himself to be incompetent, right?”

  The court was silent. I felt like I was frozen with fear. I thought we were winning, but now Stokowski was mentioning my failures. All my old fears of being seen as a failure returned to me. I covered my head with my hands and tried not to listen.

  “Isn’t it true?” asked Stokowski. “Didn’t he tell the NYPD he had a magical equation that could solve crime? And then when one of my detectives tried to use his equation, he got the wrong man! I tell you, isn’t that nuts? There could never be an equation to solve a crime! I mean, that right there shows he’s not all right in the head, right? He doesn’t understand real detective work! He thinks it’s a little mathematical game! In my eyes, that means he’s proven himself incompetent, right?”

  The court was silent. Tritch’s face was still and severe.

  “Perhaps,” said Tritch.

  Buckley stood up and spoke to the hearing officer.

  “Mr. Tritch, sir,” he said, “if you’ll allow me, I was the detective who used Trueman’s equation. I haven’t made any comment about it to the media yet. But this seems like a good opportunity to explain what happened to both the court and the media. Do you mind if I stand up and explain what happened?”

  “By all means,” said Tritch. “Please tell us.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Buckley.

  Buckley stood up and started pacing back and forth across the courtroom floor. He would stop and talk to every person in the room, but he was actually addressing us all. I could guess from Buckley’s convincing way of speaking that he was accustomed to giving speeches in front of crowds.

  “Now, Mr. Tritch,” said Buckley, “and ladies and gentlemen of the press. I’ve been a homicide detective for nineteen years. In fact, it would be my twenty-year anniversary next month if not for the fact that I quit recently. You see, I used to work under Chief Stokowski here. But I objected so strongly to the charges that he laid against Mr. Trueman Bradley, that I quit my job!”

  The reporters hissed and shouted their disapproval of Stokowski. The Chief looked back at the reporters and I could recognize how much he hated them. In response to the hissing, Buckley smiled and raised his hand.

  “Okay, quiet please,” said Buckley. “Now, the fact that I quit should tell you something about my opinion of Mr. Trueman Bradley. Believe me, I know how ridiculous this sounds. Who would ever believe that someone could invent an equation that solves crimes in New York City? Lord knows it’s hard enough for us who put in our time at the academy and a good few decades of hard hours. When I first heard about Trueman’s equations, I was doubtful too. But, now that I’ve seen them in action, I can say without hesitation… as crazy as it sounds, Trueman’s equations do work and Trueman himself is a mathematical genius.”

  A male reporter lifted his hand and spoke.

  “Mr. Tritch? Do you mind if I ask a question?”

  “Hm…” said Tritch. “I suppose not. Go ahead.”

  Stokowski jumped from his chair and shouted.

  “I object! The media has no right to ask questions at an official hearing!”

  Tritch looked at Stokowski as if he’d kill him.

  “Shut up!” shouted Tritch.

  Stokowski sat down and hid his face behind his hands.

  “Go ahead and ask your question,” said Tritch.

  “Thank you,” said the reporter. “Detective Buckley. If Trueman’s equations work, then why is it you arrested the wrong man? You did arrest the wrong man, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah,” said Buckley, “but that wasn’t Trueman’s fault. You see, we tried to put Trueman’s equations onto a little computer that straps to your wrist. But there was a problem with the computer. So, you see, it was just because of a computer glitch. There’s nothing wrong with Trueman’s equations. The fact is, Trueman’s equations are so complicated, computers can’t do them. The computer made me arrest the wrong guy. Understand? Trueman’s got to do the equation in his own head or it won’t work, because Trueman’s smarter than a computer.”

  The media gasped and started writing in their notebooks.

  “Smarter than a computer…” said Tritch.

  Tr
itch gave Stokowski another severe look.

  “Smarter than a computer, and the Chief here says he’s incompetent?” asked Tritch. “I wouldn’t doubt it, knowing what a devious sort this Chief seems to be. But I’m afraid I will require proof. You say he’s smarter than a computer, Detective. But can you prove it to me?”

  Buckley lifted up a finger.

  “Yes!” said Buckley. “I thought you might ask me that. So, I arranged proof. I’ve been in contact with a mathematics professor at New York University, named Eldrich Larsen. I’ve sent him Trueman’s equations and he can verify that they work.”

  “He can?” asked Tritch. “Well, then please ask him to come up and speak to the court.”

  “Um, about that…” said Buckley, “he couldn’t be here today because he has a class to teach. But he said if you want to get verification from him, he can give you an appointment next Thursday…”

  “Detective!” said Tritch. “I don’t have time for that! This hearing is only scheduled for this one day. We must come to a decision today, not next Thursday! If you didn’t bring your proof to the hearing then you have no proof that Mr. Bradley’s equations work.”

  Buckley held up his finger again.

  “Yes, I do, Mr. Tritch,” said Buckley. “Yes, I do. I thought this might happen, so I brought some extra proof. Sal, could you take out the projector? Somebody get the lights.”

  Sal took a small video projector out of a bag and put it on the table. Buckley pulled down a projector screen and somebody switched off the lights in the courtroom. Soon we were watching a video on the projector screen. To my surprise, it was a video of the Marine Air Terminal.

  It showed me standing on the roof of the Marine Air Terminal with my CCC device in my hand. This must have been a video that was filmed of me when I was getting ready to jump off the roof. I didn’t know there had been a camera recording me, and I wondered what was the purpose of showing this to the court.

  I watched the video of me grabbing the rope and swinging. The rope swung for a few seconds and then began to break. The weaves and knots of the rope began to unravel and I watched myself spinning in circles as the rope unraveled. As the rope unraveled, it became longer and soon I was on the roof of the first floor. Nora tried to catch me, but I swung off the edge and landed on top of a bus that had “M60” on the front of it. The bus drove for a short time before stopping abruptly. I watched as I slid off the roof and landed in a flower garden.

  The reporters cheered and applauded. When the video ended and the lights were switched back on I realized that they were applauding me. Every face in the room was looking at me and smiling, except for Stokowski’s. Even Tritch looked at me in a pleasant way and clapped his hands.

  “Impressive acrobatics, Mr. Bradley,” said Tritch. “But I don’t see how this proves that he’s a mathematical genius.”

  “I’ll tell you how,” said Buckley. “Mr. Trueman Bradley designed a device that uses a mathematical formula to determine when and how he could jump off that building without being hurt. This footage was recorded by a security camera, and as you see, Trueman fell off a two-storey building without a scratch.”

  Tritch’s face contorted and I could recognize that he was either confused or didn’t believe what Buckley was saying.

  “Okay, Detective,” said Tritch. “I’m afraid I find that a little hard to believe. Such an invention is not possible.”

  “Don’t take my word for it, Mr. Tritch!” said Buckley. “If you don’t believe me, ask the media! They’re here, ask them!”

  “The media knows about this?” asked Tritch.

  “Sure, I released this video to the media the day before this hearing started,” said Buckley.

  “That’s why all these reporters are here?” asked Tritch.

  “Yeah,” said Buckley.

  “Why did you release this to the media?” asked Tritch.

  “Because I wanted them to research the story, so they could confirm what I say is true,” said Buckley. “The media always makes a lot of phone calls to confirm if a story’s true before they report on it, right? Well, this way, I have all these reporters in the room who can verify what I say is true.”

  Tritch looked at the crowd of reporters.

  “Is what he says true?” asked Tritch.

  A young, blonde reporter stood up and answered.

  “Yes, Mr. Tritch. My name is Gwen Tone, and I researched this story. I got in touch with a research scientist and inventor named Dr. Lucretia Rozzozzo. She confirmed that Trueman commissioned such an invention. We also got testimonials from the various scientists that helped her develop it. They’re all well-respected research scientists. Apparently, there’s been so much talk about Trueman’s inventions in the academic community that every university in the state wants Trueman to come speak with them about his equations and his inventions.”

  The whole room was silent. Tritch started to laugh. He shook his head and wrote something on a piece of paper.

  “Stokowski!” said Tritch. “How many university professors want to talk to you about your mathematical ideas, huh? You dare to call Mr. Bradley incompetent and stupid? My official ruling is that he’s infinitely smarter than you! Now, if you have nothing else to add, I will be dismissing this case!”

  “Wait!” said Stokowski.

  Tritch looked at him severely. Stokowski stood and nervously licked his lips. He put one hand on the table and looked down at the floor. He spoke quietly and slowly, like someone who was very close to losing his patience.

  “You can’t let him be a detective,” said Stokowski.

  “Why not?” asked Tritch.

  “Because,” said Stokowski, “he is a murder suspect. That’s right. He is a suspect in the murder of Eddie Sipple at La Guardia last week. Isn’t it the law that a detective’s license will be revoked if he’s charged with a serious crime?”

  “Yes,” said Tritch. “Is he charged with the crime?”

  “No, he’s not!” shouted Buckley.

  “Don’t shout!” said Tritch.

  “Sorry, sir,” said Buckley, “but I know because I was the one investigating that case before I quit. We held Trueman under suspicion, but there was no evidence to prove he killed Eddie! In fact, I was following Trueman around at the time. During the time Eddie was murdered, Trueman was in an Italian restaurant! There’s no evidence. I have no idea why the Chief is making up all this stuff and trying to get rid of Trueman!”

  “Nonsense,” said Stokowski. “I’m not trying anything. And there is proof. I didn’t use it before, because we just found the evidence yesterday. That’s right. We found a white scarf belonging to Mr. Trueman Bradley at the murder scene. That means, of course, Mr. Trueman Bradley was at the murder scene.”

  Buckley shouted and ran towards Stokowski.

  “What?” asked Buckley. “White scarf? There wasn’t a white scarf at the scene! I investigated that case!”

  “Keep calm, Detective!” said Tritch.

  Buckley stopped and pointed his finger at Stokowski.

  “Wait a minute,” said Buckley. “Trueman has a yellow scarf. His scarf turned white because of exposure to acid fumes, but that was after Eddie was already dead! How could Trueman’s white scarf be found at the murder scene if his scarf didn’t even become white until after Eddie was murdered?”

  Stokowski’s face turned as white as my scarf. I could recognize that he was suddenly very afraid.

  “Well, okay,” said Stokowski. “His scarf wasn’t at the murder scene. I didn’t mean to say that. Just listen…”

  “Wait,” said Buckley. “I know what’s going on here. I remember that day when we took Trueman in for questioning. I remember you asked about his scarf. Trueman told you it turned white because of the acid fumes. A dozen cops heard him say that! They can all confirm that Trueman’s scarf wasn’t white when Eddie was murdered! You scum you, you’re losing the case, so you panicked and now you’re trying to fabricate fake evidence against Trueman, so you can get
his license revoked!”

  The reporters gasped and Tritch looked at Stokowski.

  “What?” asked Tritch. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but if you’re trying to fabricate evidence to get Trueman’s license revoked, I’m going to report this to the proper authorities! I mean, you’re a police chief, for Pete’s sake! I’m going to lodge a complaint with the criminal court!”

  Stokowski’s eyes looked very wild and animated. His body shook and it seemed to me that he was getting very panicky. Gwen Tone stood up and spoke to the hearing officer.

  “Mr. Tritch? Can I ask Chief Stokowski a question?”

  “Yes,” said Tritch.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m a little bit confused. Did you just claim that you found Mr. Bradley’s scarf at a murder scene? And then you claimed you didn’t find his scarf? Did you just contradict yourself? If so, were you lying about the scarf being at the murder scene? If so, did you just attempt to fabricate evidence against Mr. Bradley to make it seem like he was guilty of a murder he didn’t commit?”

  The room was silent. Stokowski didn’t answer. He moved his shaky hands up to his face and wiped the sweat off his face.

  “Listen…” said Stokowski.

  The whole room was silent and the reporters’ pens were positioned to write down every word Stokowski said.

  “…I have to use the bathroom,” said Stokowski.

  Stokowski ran out of the courtroom.

  “Stop!” said Tritch. “Stop him! I didn’t give you permission to leave! Stokowski!”