
By: Jim Taylor
Court
processes ignore the way memory works
Pity Lynn Ellingsen.
She may be a sex trade worker, a drug addict, a drunk, a psychiatric case, and
a chronic liar. But for over a week, she was relentlessly grilled by the defence lawyers for Robert William “Willie” Pickton.
Every statement that she has
made to the police, or to the court, has been dissected for inconsistencies and
contradictions.
"You lied to police on
numerous occasions," defence counsel Rick Brooks
charged.
"Yes," Ellingsen admitted. "Every addict does."
As Brooks paraded a seemingly
endless list of inconsistencies, Ellingsen agreed
that her memory is “a hazy fog, blurred by years of cocaine and alcohol abuse,”
in the words of a Canadian Press report.
Asked why she gave so many
variations of the same incident in more than two dozen police interviews, Ellingsen replied: "I try to forget. It’s a nightmare
for me… I’m trying to put this behind me."
The Pickton
murder trial
Pickton
is accused of murdering six women, all from
Investigators sifted 14 acres
of Pickton’s pig farm in
But Ellingsen
is the first witness in this six-month-old trial to connect Pickton
directly to the murders. She testified that on a specific day in 1999 she saw Pickton butchering a woman’s body in his slaughterhouse the
same way he butchered pigs, with the body slung from an overhead hook.
Later she identified the woman
as Georgina Papin.
But a document from
Building by associating
Does that invalidate Ellingsen’s
testimony?
Hardly.
I think the court process expects too much precision from human memory.
Could you, for example,
identify with absolute accuracy what you were doing eight years ago?
I have kept a journal for 43
years. But not even my journal could guarantee accuracy, because I sometimes
get behind. When I catch up, I don’t always care whether something happened on
Monday or Tuesday.
Sometimes I fail entirely to record significant events. I discovered that I had
omitted a neighbour’s untimely death only when I
checked my journal on his first anniversary, to refresh my memory of the
tragedy.
I can remember exactly where I
was, and what I was doing, when I first heard about the assassination of John
Kennedy, the death of Princess Diana, or the collapse of the
Communications guru Eric
McLuhan describes memory as “an act of imaginative re-creation.” You start with
one element, and associate other details with it.
Personally, I tend to connect
memories to cars, children, or pets. Some people remember mainly their
successes; others, their slights. Some recall words and phrases; some, colors
or tastes; still others, faces or gestures. My mother-in-law re-created her
memories around the recipes she served.
Truth in inconsistency
Whatever it is, that central memory provides a base, a
foundation, on which to add related memories—who was there, what they said, how
they acted, the setting, the weather…
If Lynn Ellingsen’s
testimony were utterly consistent, I would suspect her of memorizing a prepared
statement. The inconsistencies and apparent contradictions suggest that she is
genuinely rooting through the attic of her mind, and bringing forward as best
she can the artifacts that she finds there.
But the law—and the mass
media—do not allow for the often whimsical ways our minds work.
So in the Conrad Black trial in
Any confusion or uncertainty
was presumed to prejudice their accuracy.
In Justice John Gomery’s inquiry into illegal transfers of federal funds to
Liberal party loyalists in
By those standards, not even
the Bible would stand up in court. The four gospels constantly disagree on
details. Even when Matthew, Mark, and Luke tell the same story, they provide
different details or alternate wordings. John’s gospel reverses much of the
chronology, and includes variants that the others do not substantiate.
But what else would you expect,
when the stories were not written down until at least 30 years after the fact?
And yet they agree on the
central story—about a person who changed people’s lives by his teaching and
example, who was tried and executed as a common criminal, but whose influence
could not be extinguished by death.
Remembering the last time
Why then should our court system expect a witness
whose brains have been addled by cocaine and booze to regurgitate a fully
coherent set of facts?
Memory doesn’t work that way.
It may be true that memories
are stored forever within the brain’s cells. The late Dr. Wilder Penfield
discovered that stimulating portions of the brain could evoke powerful
memories, so real that his patients felt they were reliving their earlier
experiences.
But short of performing brain
surgery in the courtroom—and knowing exactly where to locate those neurological
triggers—courts need to be realistic about how our memories work.
Ironically, the act of grilling
a witness affects the accuracy of memories. As each question probes some
element that has not yet been properly revealed, each new detail dredged from
the past glues itself onto the current blob of memories. The next time the
witness is asked about that incident, she remembers not just the original event
but what she remembers remembering about it last time.
Little wonder that some details
fail to harmonize fully.
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Copyright © 2007 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study
groups permitted; all other rights reserved.
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