In The Plan - 6. Chapter 6

6

When the police finished putting together their official accident report, Doug asked Ben Carleson to get him a copy. "Can you do that?"

"Sure," Carleson replied. "There any special reason?"

"Mainly, I'm curious."

This was almost a year after the accident, and Doug was finally back to work. Still, he was only on limited hours. And though his company had paid him full salary for the seven months he was unable to work, that merely covered his straight time. He normally doubled what he made in overtime. "Time-and-a-half the first ten hours," he explained to Carleson, "then double time. And I normally work sixty-hour weeks."

"I should have studied computers," Carleson joked.

"There's another reason I'd liked to see the report," Doug had gone on. "And maybe there's a second report, too. I don't know if you can get a hold of that."

"What is it?"

"An expert's report? Does that even exist? Some guys at the bar - some guys who know guys who are cops - are saying that some expert's going to testify that I was driving. Is that even true?"

"Gossip carries fast."

"Then it is true?"

"There is a police report," Carleson admitted. "That's been around since soon after the accident - it only takes a couple of weeks to put together, and the fresher the witnesses' memories, the better. And there is a statement from an expert - a so-called expert because this really isn't his field, and there's a chance he'll only be hired because of his recent publicity in another trial - a national one. And rumor - gossip again - has it that the defense attorney for Brad Coghlan may be planning to use this statement as the basis for part of his defense. But the argument really doesn't make sense, and it can easily be taken apart."

Doug seemed to consider all this, but still asked, "Can you get it for me? The police report? Along with the other one? The statement?"

"Sure thing."

Though after several days - after Doug had read and reread the reports - he again needed Carleson's help.

"I'm not a stupid man," he began on the phone. "I know I don't have a college degree, just a ton of tech courses over the years - they're always sending me to seminars. But can you tell me what these reports mean?"

"I sure hope so," Carleson said. "That's my profession. When's good?"

He came over the following evening.

First, he took fifteen minutes to review the reports. He hadn't read them again since soon before he gave them to Doug, and there were several important points he wanted to keep straight. He'd also had a very busy week. Finally, he smiled and said he was ready.

"Well, it's two questions, really," Doug started. "One's easy, and one's hard."

"Shoot."

"Okay, the easy one. They did an analysis - the police. Two, actually. One on Brad and one on me. He was drunk, and I wasn't. That's what they said, and that's what we knew - any idiot who was around would have. But the police say he was very drunk - like he drank 12 beers and 14 ounces of alcohol in a couple of hours. And there's just no way."

Carleson picked up the report again, to check the facts. "It actually says 12 beers or 14 ounces of alcohol in two hours. And they're not talking about real drinks. They talking about the equivalents."

"What do you mean?"

Carleson grinned. "Well, I'm not an expert on chemistry. I took a couple of courses - one in high school and one in college. And there were a lot of good-looking guys in those classes, so I wasn't always listening."

Doug laughed.

"OK, it's like this," Carleson went on. "The body changes what we eat and drink. That's the chemistry part."

"I'm following."

"And digestion is kind of like an amplifier. So one beer has the power of two - or more. One ounce of alcohol may seem like 4 or 5."

"Even if it's diluted?" Doug was thinking about himself.

"Unfortunately, that has nothing to do with it."

"Even if I have a couple of drinks over a couple of hours? And there's lots of melted ice?"

This time, Carleson laughed. "You could pour an ounce of Scotch over a gallon of ice cream, and the body will still make the Scotch seem like more."

Doug absorbed that. "That's good to know." Then he concluded. "So the police aren't saying Brad drank all that alcohol. They're saying it had that effect on his body?"

"Correct."

Doug laughed.

"What's the harder thing?" Carleson went on. Trying to keep Doug focused.

Doug hesitated, then took a deep breath.

"I'm ready," Carleson promised.

"Well, it's how they say I was driving. Now no one in their right mind would believe that. No one who knows me."

Carleson nodded. "I'm finding that out."

"I mean, even if I was drunk - which the police and everyone say I wasn't - I'd have the good sense not to drive. And I never have more than two or three drinks - diluted - over two or three hours. And if I'm the least bit tipsy, I ask someone to drive me home."

"And if they're drunk?" Carleson asked. Before Doug objected, Carleson added, "I'm just saying 'For instance.'"

"I'd walk," Doug insisted. "I hate doing that in the dark, especially from the Inn because I'd have to cross Sunrise Highway. But that's one reason why I like the Inn. It's the closest bar to my house."

"So there's no reason you'd drive," Carleson summarized.

"Absolutely not. And if it were somehow an emergency - if for some insane reason in a life-death situation I had to drive someone to the hospital - I sure wouldn't be doing it in the wrong lane at 90 miles an hour down Mill Road."

"That is hard to believe."

"I can't believe Brad even did it. And with me yelling at him all the way."

Doug wanted to believe he'd protested like that, but he couldn't really remember - not clearly enough yet. Though he was sure he'd asked Brad - far more than once - to be let out of the car.

"So this whole thing couldn't have happened," he went on. "And I can't believe the police believe it. With all their witnesses and experts."

Carleson looked at the report in his lap, and he took a deep breath. Then he looked at Doug.

"First of all, the police don't necessarily believe it. No one but this expert does. And that would have to be accepted in court to be held as legally true. The rest of it comes down to physics."

"Physics?"

"Yeah." Carleson smiled. "That's a class I only had once - but with the same distracting guys."

Doug laughed at him. "Maybe I should find a blind lawyer."

Carleson grinned. "No, I've been happily married for over twenty-five years. It's been a long time since I let myself drool over men."

"Did you learn any more physics? Over the years?"

"Some. Mainly from listening in courtrooms. So maybe I can make this simpler."

Carleson looked around himself then grabbed a couple of things. Then he cleared part of the coffee table.

"Now, this is the shopping center," he began, pointing at the table. He laid a couple of magazines end-to-end across the center. "This is Mill Road."

Doug nodded. "So far, I'm with you."

"And these are the stores in the shopping center."

Carleson laid a couple of books, again end-to end, at a right angle to the magazines. They stretched along one side of the table, leaving most of the surface bare. He pointed to the empty space and said, "That's the parking lot."

Doug repeated. "Mill Road. Stores. Parking lot. Still with you."

"Now this is the lamp post."

Carleson put a small figurine on the table.

"I hate that lamp post."

Carleson laughed. "I'm sure it no longer exists. I'm sure it's been melted down as scrap metal."

"I still hate it."

"I understand. But this is still it." He tapped on the head of the figurine in the "parking lot" in front of the "stores." Then lifted the lid off a small rectangular box, flipped the lid on its back, and dropped in a couple of coins he pulled from his pocket. "This is the car."

"Where's the church and the steeple?" Doug joked.

"Just stay with me," Carleson said, grinning. "You asked me to explain."

"Okay. Go on."

"So this is the car, speeding down Mill Road." Carleson moved "the car" a short distance along the magazines, then went on. "It tries to turn, misses, swerves, and goes into the lamp post."

He moved the lid further along the magazines, turned into "the parking lot," and stopped "the car" in front of the figurine.

"That much I understand," Doug agreed.

"So do I," Carleson admitted. "But this is where it gets tricky."

"Okay."

"The thing is the box top doesn't hit the figurine straight on. It hits on a corner - the front left fender of the car."

He demonstrated.

"And that sends 'the car' into the air and into a clockwise or counter-clockwise spin."

He demonstrated again.

"So the front end of 'the car' becomes the back, and 'the car's' flying backwards toward the liquor store."

He indicated the end-to end books.

"And this is where the expert's report - and, again it's only one person's opinion - this is where he says that you and Brad - the coins - were tossed out of 'the car.' And depending on where you were tossed out, and when, it affects where you land."

"That's where I get lost."

"You and almost the rest of the world," Carleson admitted, and they both laughed. "But let me show you what the national expert thinks he believes."

"All right." Doug seemed to dare him.

Carleson took the lid of the box and laid it at a very slight angle in front of the books that represented the stores.

"Now this is where 'the car' landed," he said. "No one's denying that, and we have pictures."

"I saw that in the report. Thirty-four of them."

"Good memory."

"Sometimes."

Carleson acknowledged that while pulling his phone and wallet from his jacket.

"'The car,'" he continued, "landed behind a van which was parked almost next to an SUV."

His wallet was the first and his phone the other.

"Uh-huh," said Doug.

"But depending on where the coins get tossed out of the lid - you and Brad thrown out of the car - affects where they land."

Carleson picked up the lid again and said, "Now remember where it landed."

"That's easy."

"Good."

Carleson then move the lid back into 'the parking lot,' halfway between the figurine 'lamp post' and 'the stores.' "Now you gotta remember this is up in the air.

He raised the lid a few inches off the table.

"And not to scale," he added, grinning.

"I'm used to that from diagrams."

Carleson next set the lid back down, immediately under where he'd held it above the table. "Now if 'the car' was turned this far..." he angled the lid one way, "...and you and Brad were thrown out here..."

He removed the dime and the penny.

"...physics would tell us you both landed here."

He traced the route of the coins in the air and brought them down next to his wallet and phone. Doug acknowledged their positions, and then Carleson took the coins back to the lid.

"But if the car had turned further..." he went on.

He sharpened the angle of the lid.

"...when you and Brad were thrown out..."

He again traced the path of the coins across 'the parking lot.'

"That puts you in opposite places."

"That's physics, huh?" Doug demanded.

"So I've been taught."

And they laughed. Then Carleson moved the lid back to its final, slightly angled position.

"And the expert says that - despite the fact that you landed next to the passenger side of Brad's car..."

He placed the dime.

"...and Brad landed next to the driver's side..."

He placed the penny.

"...with his feet somehow flopped on the Mercedes' floor - "

He balanced the penny on the narrow edge of the lid, so it was split fifty-fifty.

"...he still thinks you were driving."

"That make no sense," Doug told him.

"I know. But it gets worse."

"How could it possibly?"

"Because only one door of the car was open - on the driver's side."

"Which means?"

"That the expert thinks you both came out the same side. Which one of the witnesses suggested. That's why he says you got so much damage on your left side."

"I didn't go out my own door?"

"Centrifugal force might not predict that - and don't make me try to explain centrifugal force."

"But why wouldn't I go out my own door? If the car was spinning around and that opened both doors? Or I could even have gone over the windshield - which was pretty low. Or over the passenger door - which was even lower."

"All great explanations. But not what this expert believes."

"Why?"

"Because he can. Because he's paid to. Because he's a very bright man who other, less bright people like you and me bring in to tell us what to think."

"Experts," Doug dismissed.

"I know." Then Carleson hesitated. " But in a way, you're an expert, and I'm one, and we could both testify in court because of the specialized information we know. So you've go to believe someone. Besides, we'll have our own very good experts to counter theirs."

Doug needed to think about that.

"And it doesn't help," Carleson went on, "that the passenger door was closed when the police found the car. And the driver's door was open."

Doug stared at the box lid and the coins

"That helps me understand. A little."

"Good. But you've still got to remember this is only one explanation - one theory. There are others - and other experts. So right now this report is only one report. It's not absolute, and it's not proven. Other people have to agree."

"The judge and jury?"

"Among others."

"So you're saying I should relax?"

"That would be a good idea," Carleson said, grinning. "As I've told you before, keep focused on getting better. And getting your life back to normal - as you have been. Keep seeing your friends, and doing your job, and we'll see what happens next."

Doug seemed to think about that for a minute. Carleson watched him but kept quiet. He didn't even clear the coffee table.

"It's too bad they just won't believe me," Doug finally said.

"Yes. It is," Carleson replied. "You've got that exactly right."