what that bus driver in California remembered under hypnosis?”
“You’re talking about Chowchilla,” Kell said, and nodded.
“What’s Chowchilla?” Jamie asked.
“A town in California,” Kell explained. “In 1976, three men kidnapped a busload of students and their driver, and held them hostage in a moving van buried in a quarry. A ransom note was found in the house of the quarry’s owner. His son and two others were eventually charged.”
Bury? A van? For a kidnapping? In the movies, sure, but for real? “You’re kidding,” she said, and when he shook his head, asked, “Were they rescued?”
“They were,” Kell answered. “They dug themselves out, but by then, the kidnappers were long gone. The driver eventually underwent forensic hypnosis to see if he could remember anything helpful.”
Bizarre. “And it worked?”
“He remembered enough of a license-plate number on one of the vehicles involved, that authorities were able to track the men down through the registration, I think it was. Hypnosis was also used in Ted Bundy’s case. In the Boston Strangler’s. In Sam Sheppard’s. His was made into a movie. The Fugitive.” Kell’s expression fell into a goofy smile. “With Harrison Ford.”
Kate had been listening, and asked, “Are the memories refreshed during hypnosis even admissible in court?”
“Not everywhere, no. In Texas, they are, but we use them in conjunction with other investigative tools.”
Meaning a conviction or acquittal wouldn’t rest solely on what Jamie might manage to recall. “So if I remember seeing a license plate through the diner’s window…”
“Then we’ll track down what car those plates were on at the time and who it was registered to.”
And to play devil’s advocate. “Someone other than the owner could’ve been driving it.”
Kell nodded. “Which is why we don’t stop with the refreshed memory. We use it as we would any new lead. To help us find the irrefutable evidence that will put the perpetrator away.”
He was making this sound simple, logical. Making it sound like the right thing. Making it sound as if she would be smart to let him do his job. “If I remembered something that helped, would I have to testify at a trial?”
“You might be asked to, yes.”
“Would she have to?” Kate asked.
“Compelling her to do so wouldn’t be my call.” Kell turned his attention from her mother to Jamie. “Going into this you should think worst-case scenario to make sure all bases are covered.”
Yeah. This was the part she’d been afraid of, what she’d been waiting to hear. She reached for the antacids, stared at the strips of torn wrapper and said, “Worst case being the killer comes after me before he goes to trial.”
“That is my bailiwick. And that won’t happen.”
How could he know? How could he be sure? Things could go so wrong…“And if I go insane reliving that night, does the court pay my asylum costs? Because as much as I want this bastard behind bars, I’m not sure I won’t need bars of my own if those memories come back.”
Kate slapped her hand against the table, and dust bloomed in tiny clouds. “Then you’re not going to do it. I won’t have you spending the rest of your life suffering.”
If only it was that simple. Say no, and save herself the horrors those who had lost their loved ones would never put to rest. Or say yes, and hope that closing the case would allow her to do the same.
She looked up at Kell. “If I were to agree, who would do it? Hypnotize me?”
“The Department of Public Safety has officers licensed by the state and trained to use hypnosis in the investigation of crimes. Not a lot. Last I heard, out of sixty thousand officers, only three hundred were certified.”
“Would I go to a police station somewhere?”
“You could, or the team would bring the equipment to you.”
“Team?” Kate asked.
“The hypnotist, a technician to man the recording equipment and an officer to
“You’re talking about Chowchilla,” Kell said, and nodded.
“What’s Chowchilla?” Jamie asked.
“A town in California,” Kell explained. “In 1976, three men kidnapped a busload of students and their driver, and held them hostage in a moving van buried in a quarry. A ransom note was found in the house of the quarry’s owner. His son and two others were eventually charged.”
Bury? A van? For a kidnapping? In the movies, sure, but for real? “You’re kidding,” she said, and when he shook his head, asked, “Were they rescued?”
“They were,” Kell answered. “They dug themselves out, but by then, the kidnappers were long gone. The driver eventually underwent forensic hypnosis to see if he could remember anything helpful.”
Bizarre. “And it worked?”
“He remembered enough of a license-plate number on one of the vehicles involved, that authorities were able to track the men down through the registration, I think it was. Hypnosis was also used in Ted Bundy’s case. In the Boston Strangler’s. In Sam Sheppard’s. His was made into a movie. The Fugitive.” Kell’s expression fell into a goofy smile. “With Harrison Ford.”
Kate had been listening, and asked, “Are the memories refreshed during hypnosis even admissible in court?”
“Not everywhere, no. In Texas, they are, but we use them in conjunction with other investigative tools.”
Meaning a conviction or acquittal wouldn’t rest solely on what Jamie might manage to recall. “So if I remember seeing a license plate through the diner’s window…”
“Then we’ll track down what car those plates were on at the time and who it was registered to.”
And to play devil’s advocate. “Someone other than the owner could’ve been driving it.”
Kell nodded. “Which is why we don’t stop with the refreshed memory. We use it as we would any new lead. To help us find the irrefutable evidence that will put the perpetrator away.”
He was making this sound simple, logical. Making it sound like the right thing. Making it sound as if she would be smart to let him do his job. “If I remembered something that helped, would I have to testify at a trial?”
“You might be asked to, yes.”
“Would she have to?” Kate asked.
“Compelling her to do so wouldn’t be my call.” Kell turned his attention from her mother to Jamie. “Going into this you should think worst-case scenario to make sure all bases are covered.”
Yeah. This was the part she’d been afraid of, what she’d been waiting to hear. She reached for the antacids, stared at the strips of torn wrapper and said, “Worst case being the killer comes after me before he goes to trial.”
“That is my bailiwick. And that won’t happen.”
How could he know? How could he be sure? Things could go so wrong…“And if I go insane reliving that night, does the court pay my asylum costs? Because as much as I want this bastard behind bars, I’m not sure I won’t need bars of my own if those memories come back.”
Kate slapped her hand against the table, and dust bloomed in tiny clouds. “Then you’re not going to do it. I won’t have you spending the rest of your life suffering.”
If only it was that simple. Say no, and save herself the horrors those who had lost their loved ones would never put to rest. Or say yes, and hope that closing the case would allow her to do the same.
She looked up at Kell. “If I were to agree, who would do it? Hypnotize me?”
“The Department of Public Safety has officers licensed by the state and trained to use hypnosis in the investigation of crimes. Not a lot. Last I heard, out of sixty thousand officers, only three hundred were certified.”
“Would I go to a police station somewhere?”
“You could, or the team would bring the equipment to you.”
“Team?” Kate asked.
“The hypnotist, a technician to man the recording equipment and an officer to
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