“That’s correct.”

Moretti looked over at the legal reporter. “He talks fast. Do you have that down?”

She nodded.

Back to me: “For the sake of those of us who aren’t familiar with psychological jargon, specify what no significant difference means.”

“The groups were statistically indistinguishable. The average scores on these measures were similar.”

“Average?”

“Median- the fifty percent mark. Mathematically, it’s the best measure of typicality.”

“Yes, of course, but what does all of that mean?”

“Chronically ill children may develop some problems but being sick doesn’t inevitably make them neurotic or psychotic.”

“Hold on for a moment,” said Moretti, patting the stack of papers. “I don’t see mention of any problems here, Doctor. Your basic finding was that the sick children were normal.”

“That’s true. However-”

“You spell it out right here, Doctor.” He held up the article, flipped a page, and jabbed his finger at it. “Right here in Table Three. ‘Spielberger State Anxiety scores, Rosenberg self-esteem scores, Achenbach Adjustment scores were all’- and I’m quoting verbatim-‘within normal limits.’ Put in simple English, these kids were no more nervous or insecure or maladjusted or neurotic than their healthy peers, were they, Doctor?”

“This is starting to sound argumentative,” said Mal. “We’re here to find facts.”

“Quasi-facts, at best,” said Moretti. “This is psychology, not science.”

“You quoted the article, Counselor,” said Mal.

“Your witness’s report seems to be contradicting his own published work, Counselor.”

“Would you like me to answer your question?” I asked Moretti.

He removed his glasses, sat back, and gave a quarter-smile. “If you can.”

“Read the discussion section,” I said. “The last three paragraphs specifically. I list several problem areas chronically ill children have to deal with throughout their lives- pain and discomfort, disruption of school due to treatment and hospitalization, body changes brought about by both disease and treatment, social rejection, overprotectiveness by parents. In general, children cope well with these problems, but problems still exist.”

“The discussion section,” said Moretti. “Aha. The place researchers dump their conjectures. But your own data- your statistics say otherwise. Really, Doctor-”

“In other words,” Mal broke in, turning to me, “what you’re saying, Dr. Delaware, is that sick children and traumatized children face a constant flood of challenges- life is agonizing for them- but some are able to handle it.”

“Yes.”

Mal swept his eyes up and down the table, avoiding Moretti, establishing momentary eye contact with each of the other lawyers. “No reason to penalize a child for coping well, is there, gentlemen?”

“Who’s the witness here?” snapped Moretti, waving the reprint.

“No reason to penalize a child for dealing with his trauma,” said Mal.

“Trauma?” said Moretti. “There’s nothing in this article about traumatized children,” said Moretti. “These are chronically ill kids-chronic, as in long-term. Darren Burkhalter is a one-shot deal. He has no ongoing pain or physical change to deal with. He’d be even less vulnerable to problems than someone chronically disabled.”

He allowed himself a full smile.

To him it was all a game. I thought of little boys engaging in back-alley pissing contests and said, “Good point, Mr. Moretti. Chronically ill and traumatized children are very different. That’s why I was wondering why you quoted from the article in the first place.”

A couple of the other lawyers smiled.

“Touché,” Mal whispered in my ear.

One of the other insurance lawyers was whispering in Moretti’s ear. The lead man wasn’t pleased with what he was hearing but he listened impassively, then put the reprint aside.

“All right, Doctor, let’s talk about the whole notion of early childhood trauma. Your conclusion, as I understand it, is that Darren Burkhalter will be scarred emotionally, for life, because of his presence during an automobile accident.”

“You understand wrong,” I said. Moretti reddened. Mal raised his eyebrows and gave a soft whistle.

“Now, Doctor-”

“What I did say, Mr. Moretti, was that during my examination of him, Darren Burkhalter exhibited classic symptoms of trauma for a child his age. Sleep problems, nightmares, phobias, aggressiveness, hyperactivity, tantrums, periods of increased clinginess. According to both his mother and his day-care teacher, he showed none of these behaviors prior to the accident. It’s reasonable to assume they were related to the accident- though I can’t prove that with hard data. Whether or not these problems will develop into chronic disabilities isn’t clear, although the risk is high if psychotherapy doesn’t continue. In addition, Darren is lagging in his speech and language development- his milestones are several months behind average. How much of that is due to the trauma is impossible to judge, but it’s well worth thinking about when considering this child’s future.”

“It certainly is impossible to judge,” said Moretti. “My reading of the literature in your field is that intelligence is primarily genetically determined. The best predictor of a child’s IQ is his father’s IQ- Katz, Dash, and Ellenberg, 1981.”

“This father’s IQ will never be tested again,” said Mal.

“In lieu of that, I requested that Mrs. Burkhalter take an IQ test, but you refused that request, Mr. Worthy.”

“She’s had enough stress, Counselor.”

“No matter,” said Moretti. “Inferences may still be drawn from what we know of these people. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Burkhalter finished high school. Both were dropouts, worked at menial jobs. That indicates a less than average genetic endowment for this family. I wouldn’t expect Darren to be average. Would you, Dr. Delaware?”

“It’s hardly that simple,” I said. “Parental IQ predicts children’s IQ better than most other factors, but it’s still not a very good predictor, accounting for less than twenty percent of the variance. Katz, Dash, and Ellenberg emphasize that in their follow-up 1983 study. One out of five, Mr. Moretti. Not great odds for a bet.”

“Are you a gambler, Doctor?”

“No. That’s why I took this case.”

The reporter smiled.

Moretti turned to Mal. “Counselor, I’d advise that you counsel this witness on appropriate demeanor.”

“Consider yourself advised, Dr. Delaware,” said Mal, fighting a grin. He flashed his cuffs and studied his Rolex. “May we proceed?”

Moretti put his glasses back on and scanned some papers. “Dr. Delaware,” he said, then paused as if anticipating a punch line. “Come now, Dr. Delaware. You’re not saying that except for the accident, Darren Burkhalter would have been expected to become a nuclear physicist, are you?”

“No one knows what Darren would have become or what he will become,” I said. “Right now, the facts are that following an unusually severe psychological trauma, his language is below average and he’s experiencing severe stress.”

“What was his language like before the accident?”

“His mother reports he was starting to talk. However, after the traum-”

“His mother,” said Moretti. “And you base your conclusions on what she tells you.”

“Along with other input.”

“Such as your interview with his day-care teacher.”

“Such as.”

“His teacher’s your expert witness?”

“She seemed very credible and had a good understanding of Darren. She reported that the parents were very involved, very loving. His father, in particular, had taken an interest in his-”

“Yes, let’s talk about his father. Gregory Joe Burkhalter had a criminal record. Are you aware of that, Doctor?”

“Yes I am. A conviction for petty theft, several years ago.”