Bill Harvey Collection

by Peter O'Mahoney

  “What’s he actually stating happened?”

  “He’s stating that he made numerous bad business and personal decisions after the five hypnotherapy sessions, and he doesn’t recall making those decisions. He states that he wasn’t in conscious control of his actions during that time, completely under a hypnotic trance, meaning that his decisions were made under the influence of hypnotherapy. He’s stating that he was under the extended influence of the sessions, and those decisions have gone on to cost him millions in lost business and lost opportunities, and the sessions have damaged his personal relationships beyond repair.”

  The busy Italian restaurant buzzed around them, but neither man was paying attention to anything other than the current conversation.

  “And he’s saying that you benefited from those decisions?”

  “No. Kevin’s stating that it’s negligence on my part and that I’m responsible for not fulfilling my duty of care to him. He’s stating that these fabricated ‘side effects’ were never disclosed to him before, during, or after the sessions. He’s claiming that I’m responsible for all his actions and his lost potential.”

  “And you were still registered with us at the time of the sessions?”

  “And I still am. I pay my membership fees each year, but I haven’t practiced in five years. Kevin Wu was my last case.”

  Randall shook his head; all this information was ruining his favorite risotto. And by the size of his stomach, it was clear that he enjoyed a lot of risotto. Or cake. Or anything that he could get his hands on. “Why did you have to bring me here to talk about this? I love this place. I don’t want to take bad information here.”

  He looked at his risotto, so inviting, so tasty, and he sighed. The moment in his favorite restaurant had been ruined by Harvey’s current case. Randall loved this restaurant; this was the place he returned to celebrate any win. Having practiced hypnotherapy for more than forty years, he knew the importance of association—by using the same restaurant for every celebration, when he was feeling down, he could step inside these doors, and instantly feel better. He had been very careful to avoid bad news in the restaurant, a streak that had lasted decades.

  That streak was now over.

  “You can’t let this case get to court.” He tasted a fork full of risotto, but it didn’t have the same impact it usually had. “If you lose this case, our industry will go under. The media will get hold of it, and every person on the street will claim that any negative actions they take are the result of bad hypnotherapy. The floodgates will be opened, and we’ll be inundated with legal battles. There’s no way you can even consider letting this case get to court, but more importantly, you absolutely must not let the media make a story out of it.”

  “I realize that.” Harvey waved the Italian waitress away when she offered to refill his glass of red wine. It was beautiful wine, full of flavor and quality, but right now, he needed a clear head.

  “You have to settle this case outside of court; we can’t have the news outlets grabbing hold of this story. Could you imagine that? The headlines would run for weeks, possibly even months. It would be a moral outrage, a story full of fear about what hypnotherapists are capable of, and that would sell endless advertising space for the media. Imagine the fear that would create? People on the streets would be fearful of our influence. This story has the potential to be massive.” Randall took another forkful of risotto. “The Association can help with money. How much are we talking?”

  “$100,000,000.”

  “What?!” Randall almost choked. When the shock subsided, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and took a large gulp of red wine. “You can’t be serious?”

  “I am.”

  “This is worse than I thought.” Randall waved the waitress over to refill his glass of wine and nodded to do the same with Harvey’s.

  Again, Harvey waved her away.

  “He’s stating that he made horrible, out-of-character investment decisions and uncharacteristically destroyed personal relationships. Those decisions have not only cost him a lot of money, but also the relationships with his family.” Harvey took a deep breath and leaned forward. “But that’s not the worst of it. He’s about to be charged with murder, and I think he’s going to take this defense to the criminal court as well. He’s going to say that he had no control over his actions, and the sessions made him mentally incapacitated during the events.”

  “No,” Randall whispered.

  “And that’s when the floodgates will really open. If hypnotherapy can be a defense against criminal activity, the practice will be outlawed. The entire industry will go under.”

  “Do you think he stands a chance in the criminal court? Surely, this can’t be a legal defense against criminal actions?”

  “I’m not sure. How can you be sure? It comes down to how well it’s argued in court. The DA will charge him with murder, and his legal team will fight tooth and nail to build a case against his legal responsibility. It’s his only defense, and you can be assured that they will pull out every trick in the book to get him off the charges. The theory has never been tested like this.”

  “That scares me.” Randall shook his head in disbelief. “But I also knew this day might come. I knew that someone might make this claim in court, but I didn’t think that they would be brave enough to take you on about it. To be honest, I’m glad it’s you and not some backward, unqualified hick practitioner. You did everything right, you always have, and you won’t have anything to answer for.”

  “The court will make that decision.”

  Randall took another gulp of wine, desperate to ease his stress. “What do you need from us?”

  “I need you to testify, as an expert witness in the civil case, that there’s no way possible that the hypnotherapy sessions could have influenced his behavior in that way. As a qualified psychiatrist and the president of the Association, you’ll have the biggest pull in court. We’ll come at it from a scientific perspective, but you’ll need to be very convincing.”

  “I need to know that you’re going to win this case before I put my name to it.” Randall leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “If it looks like you’re going to lose, I want to distance the Association far away from your loss. It’s nothing personal, but we’ll have to distance ourselves from a loss like this. It’s not about you or me; it’s about keeping our industry alive.”

  “I can’t give you that guarantee.”

  Randall looked away from Harvey’s stare, the thoughts crashing through his head.

  His passion had always been unlocking the secrets of people’s subconscious—that’s what first drove him into studying psychiatry. But over the years, testing technique after technique, he found his calling in hypnotherapy. Charging extraordinarily high prices, he made his name training elite athletes, CEOs, and entrepreneurs. They came from all over the country to unlock their subconscious minds, expelling all the secrets of their past to Randall on his dark leather couch.

  Hypnotherapy became everything to him and kept him going through three marriage breakdowns, two heart attacks, and one broken hip.

  “If it makes it to court, we’ll have your back.” He stated. “If anyone is going to beat this type of charge, it’s going to be you. We’ll have to be all in; otherwise, we’ll be all out. Literally.”

  “Any help is greatly appreciated.”

  “I know other scientists and medical doctors that will come and testify as experts. They hate what we do, and they’ll be happy to say that there’s no way the sessions could have exerted that amount of control for that period of time. They’ll state that there’s no scientific evidence to state that you could have influenced him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s not for you, Harvey; it’s for our industry.” Randall placed his glass down, rubbing the side with his thumb. He stared at his glass for a long period of time before turning his attention to the younger man opposite him. “But, Harvey.” He lowered his tone of voice. “I know K
evin Wu is a criminal and a very dangerous man, but this can’t go to court. It will be a disaster for our industry if this goes that far. It’ll destroy us. People’s jobs rely on you not getting this case to court.”

  “I hear you, and I’ll make sure it won’t get that far.” Harvey nodded. “No matter how dangerous it gets.”

  Chapter 7

  Five years earlier…

  “I want you to imagine that you’re walking down a long, dark flight of stairs. These stairs lead you deeper into your own mind. It’s a deep, long stairwell, and with each step, you’ll be going deeper. Deeper. Softer with each step. Deeper… With each step, you are feeling lighter… Lighter. You are walking down the stairs into the deep parts of your mind…”

  Kevin Wu relaxed back into his chair, shoulders resting on the lounge. His eyes closed softly, deep breaths calming his anxious mind.

  “Your eyelids are feeling heavier. You can feel your breath coming and going from your lungs. Your body is peaceful, loving, and you are sinking deep into the couch… Deeper…”

  He’s relaxing, Bill Harvey wrote on his notepad. For the first time in five sessions, he’s relaxing into the session. During the first four sessions, there was a wall in front of Kevin Wu’s subconscious. He didn’t want to let me in. He was pretending, blocking me from something, but today, he’s finally relaxing, and I feel this session of hypnotherapy will be successful.

  “I want you to continue taking deep breaths… relaxing… easing down each step…” Using a low, calming voice, Bill Harvey soothed Kevin Wu into a peaceful state. “Keep walking down those steps until you’re feeling completely relaxed. With each step, you are going deeper… I want you to completely let go of everything you’re feeling. Let it all go. In three… two… one.”

  Click.

  Bill Harvey clicked his fingers, watching as Kevin Wu bought into the hypnosis session for the first time. During the first four sessions, Kevin pretended to submit to the hypnosis, resisting any attempts to actually give in. He was blocking Harvey, telling him what he thought he should say, but the small signs were obvious. There was still stiffness around Kevin’s eyes, his hands weren’t relaxed, and there was tension in his voice, but this time, finally, he had given in.

  As someone who is obsessively analytical, Kevin struggled to let go. His childhood was spent with his nose in one math textbook after another, but that was not unusual for children growing up in the competitive Hong Kong school system. His parents drove him to study, his success reflecting on their ability to parent. In the cutthroat world of a high-priced Asian school, Kevin succeeded. When he moved to America at just eighteen years old, his parents had such great dreams for him. He found success, wealth, and power, but it wasn’t in math—it was in taking advantage of people.

  Sitting next to Kevin on the couch was his notepad—a prized possession for the avid note-taker. At the end of every session, he had filled out his review of the session, closing the book without allowing Harvey to see it.

  “Now, I want you to see yourself helping an older lady, perhaps a parent.”

  Kevin nodded slightly. “I am helping my mother; Yin Sun.”

  “I want you to help Yin Sun across the street. I want you to hold her hand, another arm around her back, and I want you to walk her across the street. Slowly…” Harvey studied the quick eye movement under Kevin’s closed eyelids. “And once you have helped her across the street, she’s going to turn to you and say thank you. She’s going to say thank you filled with love, joy, and happiness—her lifetime of love, joy, and happiness. She’s going to pass that love, joy, and happiness to you. You will feel that love fill your body. You feel lighter with that joy. You feel like you’re floating away with happiness.”

  Kevin’s mouth moved, almost turning into a smile. A moment of silence sat over the room, allowing the feelings to flow through the client.

  “Now, you are going to walk away from the happy woman. She will wave to you as you walk down the street until you see a door, any door that you remember clearly. You don’t need to force the thought; your mind will bring the thought to you. I want you to feel what it’s like standing in front of that door. I want you to see your hand reaching for the door handle, feeling how cold it is.”

  Kevin’s hand jerked. “I can’t open it.”

  “Don’t force it, but describe your location to me.”

  “I’m on Centinela Avenue, and I’ve walked into a building. The door is orange and heavy, really thick. It’s next to a roller door, and the door has the number 1649 on the front. But I can’t open it. It holds too many of my secrets. I can’t allow my secrets out. I have to keep that door closed.”

  “Why can’t you open door 1649?”

  “Because it will incriminate me. I can’t let anyone into that door.”

  “That’s ok,” Harvey replied. “I want you to walk away from that door, leave it closed, and find another door that you can open.”

  Kevin’s hand released, and then tightened again. “I’ve found one. It’s red. I’m inside a tall building, an apartment block, and I can open this door.”

  “Good. Now, I want you to open the door and step inside the room that holds the source of your anger. This room is filled with your rage. Tell me, what do you see inside the door?”

  “A girl.”

  “And how does the girl look?”

  “She looks scared. She has her arms across her chest, and she’s refusing to look at me. She’s frightened.”

  “Why is she frightened?”

  “Because I’m going to kill her.” Kevin’s voice was uncomfortably calm. “I’m going to murder her, but she looks so sweet. So innocent. She’s the source of my anger. Her father should feel the same pain that I’m feeling. That’s my responsibility.”

  “No,” Harvey stated calmly. “You’re not going to hurt her.”

  With his eyes still closed, Kevin nodded.

  “Tell her. Tell the girl that you’re not going to kill her.”

  “Don’t be afraid, Tiffany. I’m not going to kill you.”

  “How does she look now?”

  “She still looks scared.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to kidnap her.” Kevin Wu’s mouth moved again, almost turning into a smile. “Her father must feel the pain that I felt when my Amy was taken. He must feel that pain. It’s my duty as a father to inflict that pain on him. My honor is at stake.”

  “You’re not going to hurt her. Tell her that you’re not going to hurt her.”

  Kevin nodded. “Tiffany will be hurt. That’s only fair. But I’m not going to take the blame. Someone else will. Someone will be to blame for her pain.”

  The anger he’s experiencing after the loss of his daughter is enormous, Harvey wrote. He’s angry, and he wants to hurt someone else for that pain. Monty Lee’s daughter is at risk. This must be reported to the police.

  “I want you to walk out of the room, leaving the girl alone, and you will find yourself in a large field of grass,” Harvey continued. “I want you to imagine the pain you feel as a balloon, a red balloon, and you’re holding it tightly. Really tight. Hold the string of the balloon, and feel it tug against your arm, trying to float away, but you won’t let it. You’re holding onto the anger tightly. Don’t let go of that balloon even though it wants to float away. And then…” Harvey took a long pause, watching Kevin’s right hand clench tight. “And then, I want you to let go of the balloon. I want you to let go of that anger.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Gently, release one finger at a time. Softly, release your hand.”

  His hand twitched.

  “Lightly, release the string of that balloon. Release that pain and anger. Let it float away.”

  “I can’t.” His knuckles were white with tension.

  “Don’t force it. Don’t fight it. Don’t fight against the balloon. Softly, release it. Let go of the anger. Let it float into the blue sky.”

  Kevin’s hand released, one
finger after the other, and then, his palm opened.

  “Watch that red balloon float away into the blue sky and feel all the anger float away with it. Watch that anger float away. Feel the softness in your body, feel the calmness in your stomach. Feel yourself sink into the couch.”

  The client’s shoulders relaxed again, easing as he imagined the balloon floating away.

  “And how do you feel now?”

  “Relaxed.” Kevin’s voice was peaceful.

  “And now, how do you feel about the girl?”

  “She’s just a girl.” His face began to scrunch as he fought back the emotions. “She’s just a little girl.” His face softened. “I won’t hurt her. But for the honor of my family, her father must feel the pain that I felt.”

  Chapter 8

  “How was the session with Kevin Wu? Any success?”

  “I’m not sure.” Harvey reached into the fridge and removed a beer, his Friday night ritual. Once the can fizzed open, his shoulders instantly relaxed. “Today was the first time that I actually got through to him. He was finally comfortable and spoke truthfully, but I don’t know whether that made any difference at all.”

  “You don’t think it helped?”

  He looked to the ground. “My goal was to help him manage his anger, and let go of his past. I really felt we took a huge step forward today with his level of anger.”

  “But?” Amber Harvey asked, busy stirring the pot of Bolognese.

  Harvey looked at his wife, her bright yellow apron covered with splatters of tomato sauce.

  These were his favorite moments; the moments he treasured. Both their lives were busy, so busy that they barely had time to enjoy a weeknight dinner with each other. But after numerous fights about trivial things, they made the commitment to come home for Friday night dinners. After six months of sharing their end of week dinners in their warm home, their relationship found a spark again.