Because I wrote it, just like I wrote chapter 4 on April 2nd and chapter 5 on April 20th. Steinberg waved dismissively. Mr. Mercer, it's not uncommon for spouses to collaborate on academic work. That doesn't constitute fraud.
You're right. I said collaboration isn't fraud, but taking sole credit for someone else's work is. I pulled out another set of documents. These are email exchanges between Dr. Mercer and myself during the writing process.
In them, she explicitly acknowledges that I'm doing the writing while she handles the research. Those could be fabricated, Steinberg said, but his confidence was wavering. They could be, but they're not. And the university's IT department can verify their authenticity by examining the email servers. Dean Wexler looked like he wanted to crawl under the table.
Mr. Mercer, are you saying you wrote the entire dissertation? Not the entire thing. Dr. Mercer did the research, formulated the hypothesis, and collected the data, but I wrote approximately 70% of the actual text, including all of the analysis and most of the literature review.
That's still collaboration, Steinberg insisted. It would be if Dr. Mercer had acknowledged my contribution, but she didn't. She presented the work as entirely her own, defended it as her own research, and has spent 3 years building a career on work she didn't write. Detective Callahan spoke up for the first time.
Mr. Mercer, this is interesting, but it doesn't address the arson allegations. Actually, Detective, I think it does. I pulled out another document. This is Dr.
Mercer's insurance claim for the house fire. In it, she states that she was home alone on the night of the fire and was awakened by smoke around 2:00 a. M. So, so this is her cell phone record for that night. I handed her another paper.
It shows she made three phone calls between midnight and 1:00 a. M. The first was to Julian's office. The second was to his home. The third was to his cell phone.
Julian's face went white. I She was upset about something. What was she upset about, Julian? She She wanted to see me. She said she had something important to tell me.
And did you go see her? No. I told her it was over between us, that she needed to move on. How did she react to that? Julian looked around the room desperately, realizing he was about to implicate himself in something much bigger than an affair.
She said, she said if she couldn't have me, she'd make sure no one could ignore her anymore. Detective Callahan leaned forward. Mr. Hughes, are you saying Dr. Mercer threatened to hurt herself?
I I thought she was just being dramatic. She was always dramatic when she didn't get her way, but you didn't call anyone, didn't check on her? I thought I thought she'd calm down and go to sleep. I pulled out the final document in my folder. Detective, this is a receipt from a gas station two blocks from Dr.
Mercer's house. It shows a purchase of a 5gallon gas container at 1:47 a. M. On the night of the fire. How did you get this?
Detective Callahan asked. I didn't, but I knew where to look. Dr. Mercer has been setting fires her whole life, detective. Metaphorical ones mostly.
But when the metaphorical fires stopped getting attention, Steinberg was frantically taking notes, realizing his discrimination case was turning into something much more serious. My client has never been charged with arson. Because she's very good at making herself look like the sufferer, I said. But the evidence is all there. The phone calls to Julian establishing her emotional state, the gas purchase providing means and opportunity, and the insurance claim providing motive.
What motive? Dean Wexler asked. Money, attention, and revenge. The house was mortgaged to the hilt. She'd been living beyond her means since our divorce.
The insurance payout would solve her financial problems. The fire would get her sympathy and attention. And blaming me would satisfy her need for revenge. Detective Callahan was studying the documents intently. Mr.
Mercer, I'm going to need to verify all of this. Of course, I've already had everything authenticated by a digital forensics expert. The report is in the folder. Steinberg stood up abruptly. This meeting is over.
My client will not be subjected to this witch hunt. Your client isn't here, Dr. Wells pointed out. Where is Dr. Mercer anyway?
That's when we heard the commotion outside. Shouting, running footsteps, and what sounded like security guards trying to control a situation. Detective Callahan's radio crackled to life. All units, we have a disturbance at the psychology building. Subject is attempting to break into faculty offices.
Subject description: Callahan asked. White female, blonde hair, approximately 40 years old, claims to be Dr. Elise Mercer. We all looked at each other. Through the conference room window, we could see campus security vehicles racing toward the psychology building.
"Gentlemen," Detective Callahan said, standing up, "I think this meeting just became a crime scene. " We followed her outside where we could see smoke rising from the direction of the psychology building. Not a lot of smoke, not enough for a major fire, but enough to suggest someone was making a statement. By the time we reached the building, campus security had cordoned off the area. Through the windows of Julian's office, we could see Elise throwing papers into a metal waste basket that was clearly on fire. "She's burning files," Mark said.
"Whose files? " Dean Wexler asked. Julian closed his eyes. "Mine and hers. Everything related to her dissertation and our relationship. " "Detective Callahan was already on her radio, calling for the fire department and backup. " "Dr. Mercer," she called through a bullhorn.