House Rules Read online

They might be obsessed by routine or rules, or be fixated on a certain subject. They can't read expressions very well, or body language. They are overly sensitive to lights, textures, smells, and sounds.

  --You are going to hear from Jacob's doctors and his mother about his limitations, and how they've tried hard to help Jacob overcome them. Part of what you're going to hear is Jacob's very concrete sense of what's right and what's wrong. In his world, rules are not just important, they're infallible. And yet, he has no understanding of the underlying bases of those rules. He can't tell you how his behavior might affect another person, because it is impossible for Jacob to put himself in someone else's metaphorical shoes. He might be able to recite to you every line from CrimeBusters episode forty-four, but he can't tell you why the mother is upset in scene seven of the show, or how the loss of a child impacted the parents in that show. If you ask Jacob, he can't explain it. Not because he doesn't want to, and not because he's a sociopath, but because his brain simply doesn't function that way.||

  I walk behind the defense table and put my hand lightly on Jacob's shoulder.

  Immediately he flinches, just like I figured, beneath the jury's watchful eye. --If you spend some time with Jacob,|| I say, --you'll probably think there's something ...

  different about him. Something you can't quite put your finger on. He may seem odd, or quirky ... but you probably also won't think of him as insane. After all, he can hold a legitimate conversation with you; he knows more about certain subjects than I'll ever know; he isn't running around listening to voices in his head or setting small animals on fire. But the definition of legal insanity, ladies and gentlemen, is very different than what we typically think of when we think of the word insanity. It says that, at the moment an act was committed, the defendant--as a result of a severe mental disease or defect--was unable to appreciate the wrongfulness of his acts. What that means is that a person with a neurological disorder like Asperger's who commits a crime--a person like Jacob--can't be held responsible in the same way you or I should be held responsible. And what you will hear from the witnesses for the defense is proof that having Asperger's syndrome makes it impossible for Jacob to understand how his actions might cause harm to someone else. You will hear how having Asperger's syndrome might lead a person like Jacob to have an idiosyncratic interest that becomes overwhelming and obsessive. And you will see, ladies and gentlemen, that having Asperger's syndrome impaired Jacob's ability to understand that what he did to Jess Ogilvy was wrong.||

  Behind me, I hear whispering. From the corner of my eye, I see a dozen notes, stacked on my side of the defense table. Jacob is rocking back and forth, his mouth tight.

  After a minute he starts to write notes to Emma as well.

  --No one is suggesting that Jess Ogilvy's death is anything less than a tragedy, and our sympathies must lie with her family. But don't compound that tragedy by creating a second victim.||

  I nod, and sit back down at the table. The notes are brief and angry: NO.

  YOU HAVE TO TELL THEM.

  WHAT I DID WAS RIGHT.

  I lean toward my client. --Just trust me,|| I say.

  Theo

  Yesterday, I was sitting alone in the back of the courtroom squished between a woman who was knitting a newborn baby cap and a man in a tweed jacket who kept texting on his phone during the testimony. No one knew who I was, and I liked it that way. After Jacob's first sensory break, when I went to the little curtained room and the bailiff let me slip inside, my secret identity was not so much of a secret anymore. The knitting woman, I noticed, moved to a spot on the other side of the courtroom, as if I had some dread contagious disease instead of just a last name shared with the defendant. The man in the tweed coat, though, stopped texting. He kept asking me questions: Had Jacob ever been violent before? Did he have the hots for Jess Ogilvy? Did she turn him down? It didn't take long for me to figure out he was some kind of reporter, and after that, I just stood in the back near one of the bailiffs.

  Today, I'm sitting next to my father, a guy I don't know at all.

  When Oliver starts talking, my father leans toward me. --What do you know about this guy?||

  --He likes long walks on the beach, and he's a Scorpio,|| I say.

  Here's what I really know. Oliver was rubbing my mom's arm today. Not in the oh-you're-about-to-fall-are-you-okay way, but in a sweet-child-o'-mine mode. What the fuck is that all about? He's supposed to be saving my brother's ass, not hitting on my mother.

  I know I should be relieved that my father is here, but actually, I'm not. I'm sitting here wondering why we are spectators at a murder trial, instead of on the first base line at Fenway, watching the Sox play. I'm wondering how I learned to tie a tie, like I did for Jacob today, considering that my own father wasn't the one to teach it to me. I'm wondering why sharing the same DNA with a person doesn't make you automatically feel like you have something in common.

  As soon as Oliver finishes his statement, I turn to my father. --I don't know how to fish,|| I say. --I mean, I wouldn't know how to stick a worm on a hook, or how to use a pole, or anything like that.||

  He just stares at me, frowning a little.

  --It would have been cool if we'd fished,|| I say. --You know. Like in that pond behind the school.||

  This, of course, is just plain stupid. I was six months old when my father left us. I could barely hold myself upright, much less a fishing pole.

  My father ducks his head. --I get seasick,|| he says. --Even just standing on a dock.

  Always have.||

  After that, we don't really talk at all.

  I went to Dr. Moon once. My mother thought it would be a good idea for me to talk to a shrink about feelings I might be having, given the fact that my brother sucked up all the time and energy in our household like some giant karmic Hoover. I can't say I remember much about her, except that she smelled like incense and told me I could take off my shoes, because she herself could think better without shoes, and maybe I would, too.

  On the other hand, I do still remember what we talked about. She said that, sometimes, it would be hard for me to be the younger brother, because I had to do all the stuff the older brother usually did. She told me that this might frustrate Jacob and make him mad, and that would make him act even more immature. In this she was the psychological equivalent of a weather forecast: she could tell me with precise probability what was coming, but she was completely unequipped to help me prepare for the storm.

  She looks different on the witness stand than she does when she is at her office. For example, she is wearing a business suit, and her crazy long hair is tamed into a bun. Oh, and she's wearing shoes. --At first, Jacob was diagnosed with general autism spectrum disorder. Then we tweaked his diagnosis to pervasive developmental disorder. It wasn't until sixth grade that we amended his diagnosis to Asperger's syndrome, based on his inability to interpret social cues and to interact with peers in spite of his high IQ and verbal ability. For kids Jacob's age, that progression of diagnoses is very common. It doesn't mean he didn't always have Asperger's--he did--it just means that we didn't necessarily have the correct language to label it.||

  --Can you give a definition of Asperger's syndrome for people who aren't familiar with it, Doctor?|| Oliver asks.

  --It's a developmental disorder that affects the way information is processed in the brain, and it's considered to fall at the upper end of the autism spectrum. People with Asperger's are often very intelligent and very competent--in this, they differ from profoundly autistic children, who can't communicate at all--but they have crippling disabilities in the area of social interaction.||

  --So someone with Asperger's might be smart?||

  --Someone with Asperger's might even have a genius-level IQ. However, when it comes to making small talk, he'll be completely inept. He has to be taught social interaction as if it's a foreign language, the way you or I would need to be taught Farsi.||

  --Lawyers sometimes have trouble finding friends,|| Oliv