A Skeptic in Court, Part I
I have served as an “expert witness” in several court cases, which I found revealing both in terms of how gullible people can be, and how—if there is any place we need skepticism—it is in the courtroom. My experiences are instructive enough that I will review them with an eye toward skepticism in two columns.
Some years ago I was retained to advise in a Florida case where a self-styled psychic—Penny Pelito—had claimed that her wondrous powers left her after a load of lumber fell on her in a Home Depot outlet while she was rooting around looking through some scrap material. She called her as witnesses a parade of strange, spaced-out characters who were almost unintelligible in their declarations.
It was brought out in court that Pelito was involved in a woo-woo research project with a local parapsychologist—Dr. Berthold Schwarz—with whom I’d already had several disputes, particularly in regard to Uri Geller, in whom Schwarz devoutly believed. He had Pelito watching an unused TV channel after 1 a.m., to try contacting spirits. The court was told by Schwarz that this method had worked so well that she’d been in conversations with the ghosts of Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, and Leonardo da Vinci. Fortunately for scientific research, Leonardo had learned modern English since his demise, but we’d expect nothing less of such a genius.
Pelito lost the case.
In another matter, I was scheduled to testify concerning a “haunted house” that the buyer now wanted to abandon, since the seller had not informed him—in advance of his purchase—that a ghost was in residence. Offered as evidence: strange thumping noises upstairs and a floor mop that supernaturally vanished from the back porch one day. Wow. And I, a fully-grown, adult man, was called upon to offer my professional opinion that this was not sufficient evidence to establish that a spook was present. The mind boggles.
If there is any place we need skepticism—it is in the courtroom.
I have advised on cases where gypsies have removed curses from bank accounts, not an unheard-of suggestion made to the naïve. In one, a well-educated woman—who worked as a teacher in Detroit—had given $130,000 to a gypsy family “to buy a chandelier for The Queen of the Night.” That expensive nightlight was to be buried in a local cemetery for a week, after which it would be disinterred and returned to the victim. I didn’t get into the details, however. I went to Detroit and conferred with the District Attorney, who was fully aware of the power wielded by the very expensive defense attorneys, their expertise in handling such highly specialized situations, and the weak link in the case he had to bring against an entire gypsy clan. He was quite correct in his assumption. As soon as those lawyers showed up at a pre-trial conference with all participants present, they spent 20 minutes reminding the victim of how she would have to testify in open court that she had willingly parted with that money—in cash—and for that specific purpose. The plaintiff was a college-educated teacher, and it became evident to her that the embarrassment she would suffer, both personally and academically, would be heavy. She immediately dropped the lawsuit. Everyone went home, and the gypsies were happy.
In other cases, I’ve seen franchises on non-existent mechanical systems being sold, there have been mail-order cases involving get-rich schemes, and then there are the standard bazhures (a gypsy term for their variety of swindle) that have been used for centuries by gypsy families that go back in history and all across the world in distribution. Most cases have potential romance involved, many involve health problems, and all have money as the goal.
One man related to me in hushed tones how he’d been instructed to purchase a grapefruit, take it home for a day and pray over it, then bring it to the gypsy. He did, and was then commanded to place it below his bed for three nights wrapped in his life savings—in cash, of course—and then return to her with the whole package. When the fruit was cut open, it was seen to be filled with a ball of earthworms, which the gypsy explained was the “evil” that had been in the victim’s money. Half of the money was retained by the gypsy as a “love offering.” The victim assured me that the grapefruit had never been out of his sight, apparently forgetting—until I prompted him—that the gypsy had rolled it up and down his back before eventually cutting it open. “But anyway, that was a huge grapefruit, and where could she have put it, if she substituted it for another one?” he asked me. I merely reminded him that he’d described her as “massive” and that she had a huge chest; the light then dawned for him on at least one possibility....
In some cases, I’ve only served as an invited advisor, not taking part in the actual investigation. In 1999, in Palm Beach, Florida, at the County Circuit Court, plaintiff Dolores Hoffert of Delray Beach brought a criminal charge against a phony psychic—a redundant description—who had conned money from her husband, who was afflicted with terminal leukemia. Mr. Hoffert had received the “psychic” services of gypsy Linda Marks, who was able to convince him that his money was “cursed,” and she did the usual sleight-of-hand with the cash he produced. Mrs. Hoffert didn’t find out about this for six months, but by then her husband had been separated from $320,000. As soon as she learned about it, she went to the police. They investigated.
It quickly got more complicated. Dolores Hoffert suddenly changed her criminal charge to a civil one, and the reason for that was soon discovered. It developed that “psychic” Marks had joined forces with Jack Mackler, then a cop in Delray Beach. Mrs. Hoffert claimed that Detective Mackler had steered her into not pressing the otherwise criminal charge by making it into a civil case, advising her that this was the best way to get her money back. Eventually Dolores brought her story to the media. She appeared on several newscasts, and on the CBS-TV docudrama 48 Hours. The IRS and the FBI got involved, and arrested both Linda Marks and Detective Mackler, who—it turned out—had been taking payoffs from Marks for his involvement.
I, a fully-grown, adult man, was called upon to offer my professional opinion that this was not sufficient evidence to establish that a spook was present.
Mrs. Hoffert sued Mackler, Marks, and the city of Delray Beach for negligent supervision and retention, fraud, negligence, and civil rights violations. Marks defaulted in the matter. Mackler was dismissed from the police force and the case proceeded against the city. Hoffert’s counsel argued that the Delray Police Department should have known of Mackler’s activities. In deposition testimony, Mackler’s superiors praised him as a “good officer” and declared that they were unaware of his wrongdoings. Hoffert’s counsel pointed out that Mackler’s actions should have set off alarms for his superiors, since he had arrested another “psychic”—one who was Marks’ competition—on fraud charges, and yet he continued to state that psychics were not subject to fraud charges, likening them to medical practitioners who’d simply had their efforts fail. I pointed out that the actions perpetrated by Marks were very common cons, and that the police certainly should have known about the scam and pursued the matter criminally.
Incredible? Read on …
These families were supposed to have their final session in the “cleansing” process with a “Señora Monica” on a Sunday night at a small store, they told Lakewood police. But she never showed up, and the families found they were out nearly $140,000. This was the amount of cash they’d freely handed over to Monica at a store-front operation, the Botanica Centro de Consultas (which, in this usage, translates as “Magic/Charm Consultation Center”) where candles, incense, and other religious items were also on sale. Police subsequently discovered that the information submitted to obtain the business license for the store was false, and set out to identify the person who got the license for Monica. Apparently, the licensing agency in Lakewood extended the ever-popular courtesy of Political Correctness—and thus the license to steal—to Señora Monica, who—no last name known—was described as Hispanic, 30 to 40 years old, 5 feet tall and 130 pounds, with long black hair. There! She’s definitively identified, right?
The victims either had met Monica at a nearby swap meet—not the ideal venue, we might think—or had heard her advertisements on a local Spanish-language radio station.
The detective’s lawyers argued that the causes of the plaintiff’s damages were directly due to the actions of the gypsy, while maintaining that the actions of Marks were not criminal and that pursuing it civilly was really the more prudent course of action, being the best way for the victim to get reimbursed. Psychics, the lawyers pleaded, should be considered to be “service providers” and if their services were not to the satisfaction of the client, it was merely a case of bad treatment. Again, no consideration was given to the basic question of whether or not the “psychic” had any sort of power or ability at anything other than separating victims from their money.
It was also pointed out that no crime victims helped by Mackler had ever complained to the police about not having a psychic arrested. Gee, I wonder why?
The policeman’s lawyers also disputed whether the law imposed a duty on the police to arrest a suspect in a case not related to the victim. (Well, of course not! That guy kidnapping a child over there, had nothing to do with this parking ticket, your honor!) They argued that the Delray Beach police had owed no duty to Mrs. Hoffert to arrest Marks on any other previous criminal complaints. Did anyone think to ask if there existed any duty to any other citizens of Florida in or out of Delray Beach? Apparently not.
Well, in the long run, Mrs. Hoffert’s husband—who had by then died—lost $320,000 to Marks. This represented his life savings from his work at General Motors, and later as a small business owner. Marks repaid Hoffert $86,000, and the lawyers sought the remaining $234,000. Incredibly, the jury found the city 10% liable and Mr. Hoffert 90% liable, awarding $234,000 that was thus reduced down to $23,400. This took six days to decide. Is it any wonder that I find the legal system grossly incompetent in handling such matters?
True, the Hofferts were very naïve in believing that money could be cursed, but that may have been—as I’ve so often found—due to cultural or religious influences to which they were subject. Certainly, Linda Marks was an experienced con artist who knew victims when she saw them, and pounced on them to drain them dry. Detective Mackler was a professional police officer who steered “marks” (a gypsy or carnie term for “sucker”) to Marks and then did what he could to save the gypsy from legal problems that might develop.
There is some small satisfaction to be found in the fact that in 2006 Linda Marks was sentenced to four years, and Detective Jack Mackler got five years in federal prison for facilitating the bilking of more than $2 million from the Hofferts and from other victims of Marks.
My next column will try to get into the minds of the victims of such swindlers with an aim toward understanding the psychology of gullibility, as well as debunking the polygraph, or lie detector, still thought by far too many to be a reliable measure of someone’s honesty. Honestly!