05x06 - The Case of the Meddling Medium

[bunniefuu]

(theme song playing)

(thunder rumbling)

(wind howling)

(Eastern European accent):
Inanimate objects

can reveal their history.

They give us pictures
of their surroundings,

of persons with whom
they have been connected,

even when those
persons are dead.

You will know
when I am ready.

At that time, you will place
object you wish me to read

in my hands.

(shallow gasping)

Helen.

Love.

Much love.

Unhappy mother.

She has lost
her husband.

No, no, no.

Husband dead
many years.

She has...
recently lost her son.

I hear his name.

Tho...

Thomas.

Thomas...

Leslie Walker.

Hmm, message.

He has message
for Mother.

"Dear Mother..."

Stop it!
Stop it!

Why can't you be honest?

Why must you lie to me
and cheat me?

That glove...

That-that glove that you say

can put you in contact
with my son--

well, my son never saw
that glove in his whole life.

I bought that glove myself
this afternoon!

(thunder cracks)
Oh!

What is it, Mother?

Oh!

Michael, we'll take her
to her room.

(sobbing)

Helen...
get rid of that--

that woman.

And call Dr. Younger at once.

(doorbell buzzes)

(without accent):
Well, look who's here.

Go away.

I had enough of you and
your bright ideas last night.

b*at it.

Now, now, Princess.

Drinking spirits, instead
of talking to them?

Now, look here.

You get out of here.

I had enough...

Money.

I... eh...

Lots of money.

$ in crisp, new bills.

Close the door.

Last night was
an unfortunate mistake.

The old lady's
smarter than I thought.

Princess,

there are a couple of things
I'd like to know.

First of all,

everything I can find out

about a routine called
a*t*matic writing.

And most important,
your expert help

on exactly how to fake a trance.

Sylvia, dinner
was delicious.

Thanks for
having me over.

Arthur, you're a humbug
and a fraud.

You keep me an invalid
only to cadge free meals

and collect
your preposterous fees.

Well, just don't tell
the medical association.

At my age, I wouldn't know

how to start earning
an honest living.

(all chuckle)
Good night, Sylvia.

Good night, Arthur.

Bonnie, see that your mother
takes her medicine.

Good night, Doctor.

Uh, Doctor,

let me get
your coat for you.

Amazing woman, your
mother-in-law, amazing.

Dr. Younger?

Yes, Michael?

Is she really all right?

Bonnie and I have been
worried sick about

her fanatic preoccupation
with contacting her dead son.

And-and these people

she finds to help her.

She's much better.

The change is really remarkable.

Bonnie tells me there's been
no reference to Tom,

nor any attempt to contact
him for two weeks now?

Once she accepts the fact
that her son is dead,

Sylvia Walker will be fine.

Just fine.

WOMAN:
Doctor!

Oh, Dr. Younger, there's
something wrong with Philip!

Go look at him quickly.

How long has he been
like this?

I don't know.

I haven't seen him
since dinner.

He's not sick, Doctor,
I'm sure of that.

He's-he's acting almost
as if he were in a trance.

Don't touch
him, Arthur.

D-Don't touch
him, you hear me?

Helen, go and get the
planchette and the board.

Quickly.

Sylvia, I've warned you,

your heart won't take
any more of this.

This all-consuming compulsion
to contact Tom

is-is unwholesome, it's sick,
it has to stop now.

Thomas Leslie Walker is dead,
dead and gone.

You're a blind
fool, Arthur.

If it hasn't been documented
with chapter and verse

in one of your precious medical
books, then it must be nonsense.

Well, the truth
sometimes exists, Arthur,

beyond the next
hill, out of sight.

Or buried in the larcenous
brain of some charlatan

who's using your belief
in spiritualism

as an excuse to rob you.

Thomas was Philip's cousin.

A blood relative.

The same age, and the same
literary ambitions.

He may...

he may come through.

This, good doctor,

is what is hopefully called
a*t*matic writing.

The spirit of the dead
guides the hand of the living.

A ghost-to-ghost telegraph
company, so to speak.

Be quiet, Michael,
or take your sarcasm elsewhere.

(grunts, sighs)

Look.

Look, he's writing.

He's writing.

(planchette lightly
scraping)

(sighs)

(soft gasp)

"Death's omnipotence, gloom
casting pall on high or low.

"Man is flesh--
to yearn, to seek,

to lust, to crave..."

Stop.

Don't read any more.

The day before
he d*ed, my son,

Thomas Leslie Walker,
wrote a poem.

Since that day,
it's been inside that box,

in the safe, and no other eyes
but mine have ever seen it.

Arthur, will you
read it, please?

"Death's omnipotence,
gloom cast..."

Well, go on, Doctor.

"Death's omnipotence,
gloom casting pall

"on high or low.

"Man is flesh--
to yearn, to seek,

"to lust, to crave.

"What meaning, then,
to need, to want?

"But yet to know
the beginning is the end.

My hopes, like me,
are for the grave."

Helen, will you read
what Philip wrote?

"Death's omnipotence,
gloom casting pall

"on high or low.

"Man is flesh--
to yearn, to seek,

to lust, to crave..."

(Philip groans)

SYLVIA:
Philip?

Philip, are
you all right?

Aunt Sylvia?

Yes.

Everything's going to be
all right, Philip dearest.

Everything's going
to be all right.

This is the bedroom suite
Mother wanted you to have.

We'll try to make
you comfortable.

You, uh, resent
my moving in here, don't you?

This was my
brother's room.

You make it sound
like a shrine.

The late Thomas Leslie Walker--

embryo poet,
accomplished drinker

and a truly gifted philanderer
with the women.

I shall breathe the hallowed air
in here with proper reverence.

You seem to know
a lot about Tom,

for somebody who
never met him.

Cousins by blood,
friends by correspondence.

I would've liked him.

Shame he d*ed before
I moved out here from Canada.

In your correspondence,

from one budding author
to another,

did he send you copies
of his poems?

Like the one
you supposedly

dredged up from the
dead downstairs!

He did, didn't he?

That whole thing was an act,

a fake.

I'm going to be
comfortable in here.

Very comfortable.

Hey, what's that
boarded up there?

The closet with
the family skeletons?

An elevator.

Tom's elevator.

It goes to the bottom of the
hill in a small underground

garage.

Tom was k*lled in
an elevator accident, wasn't he?

It went out of control,

dropped five stories
and crashed...

less than a year ago.

Tom was trapped inside.

Get it fixed.

But Tom was...

Get it fixed.

Or should I speak
to Aunt Sylvia about it?

I'll have it fixed.

Now, that's better.

See, you can be nice,
can't you?

And you're so pretty
when you're angry.

(panting)

Good night.

Well, what did I tell you?

We moved in, didn't we?

And to stay.

Elaine, baby, that's
only the first step.

Come on, come on.

She's my cousin.

Yes, ma'am.

Only the first step on the
way to million bucks.

(thunder rolling)

I just don't know
why I waited so long

to ask for your help.

I thought maybe he'd
go away, but he hasn't.

That man's lived in this
house for six months now.

Six months, Perry.

He-He practically
owns the house.

And Mother, too.

She just lives for those
make-believe trances of his,

and... well, it's getting
worse all the time.

(thunder rolling)

I know Dr. Younger's
worried about her.

Oh, Perry, you've just
got to make her see

what a fraud he is.

Oh, help us, please.

Well, look, your breaking
down won't help, will it?

You know, frauds
have a way

of ultimately tripping
over the truth.

Just don't worry.

All right, Perry.

Good.

Now, suppose we go
in and participate

in this imitation séance.

(thunder crashing, wind howling)

It's no good, I tell you.

Can't... can't...

possibly do anything tonight.

The spirit just isn't in me.

(rain falling)

Mr. Mason!

Welcome to the threshold
of the beyond.

Perry, what are
you doing here?

Well, I... I bumped
into him downtown
this afternoon

and invited him
to drop in.

Yes, as a matter of fact,
we ran into each other

in a bookstore.

Life After Death:

The Posthumous Poetry

of Thomas Leslie Walker.

You know,
there's been, um,

fantastic interest in how you
produced Walker's first poem

and the rest of the poetry
that seemingly came through

from a dead author.

Quite an accomplishment,
Mr. Paisley,

to make a book of poetry
into a bestseller.

You must be proud.

Sure. Sure.

I was hoping you'd
autograph a copy for me.

Real smart, huh?

Autograph it, huh?

You don't want my signature,
Mr. Lawyer Man.

You get Thomas Leslie Walker
to sign it, that's who.

That might be
a little difficult.

Oh, yes, there's something else
you're to be congratulated for--

the Thomas Leslie Walker
Memorial Foundation.

I understand
it's been most generous

in helping
struggling young authors.

It's nothing.

It's nothing at all.

I suppose the proceeds
from this book

are the funds being used
to support the foundation.

Walker Industries
is supporting it,

to the tune of $ million
in less than six months.

Well, I am Walker
Industries, Michael.

You're an employee.

Uh, well, now, actually, my
purpose in coming here tonight

was my great interest
in seeing a demonstration

of a*t*matic writing.

Uh, Mr. Paisley,
I believe that's something

at which you are quite adept.

May I
watch you?

Not tonight.

That's a shame.
I was hoping...

Not tonight, I said!
Do you hear?

No performance, Philip?

I thought actors believe
the show must go on.

I have had just about as much
as I can take out of you.

Now, shut up,
do you hear me?

Shut up!

But the poor beings
in the beyond, Philip,

deprived of an opportunity to...

to come through
and communicate with the living!

What of them, Philip?

Stop it! Stop it!

You're so smart, are you?

You think it's all an act, huh?

Well, then... you do it.

Go ahead.

You do it!

Bonnie, no!

Oh, let me alone!
Bonnie, don't!
Please.

I'll show him!
You're making
yourself sick, Bonnie.

I'll show him
right now!

I forbid this, Bonnie.
You understand?

I have...
I'll...

show him!

(thunder crashes)

* *

(planchette scraping)

(rain falling outside)

(wind whistling softly)

(wry chuckle)

Can't read it.

I can't read it.

"The fraud whose hoax
turned hope to dread

shall take his place
among the dead."

What's that?

Darling...
What did he say?

No! No!

You! You, you're the fraud!

I hate you all!

I'm sick to death of all of you!

(glass shatters)

(elevator whirring)

(whirring grows louder)

(screams)

(loud crash)

(door creaks open)

Sorry we have
to keep you waiting.

I'm going to have to ask
you all some questions,

and I'd appreciate
your cooperation.

Sergeant, my exchange
has been calling me.

I'm needed
at the hospital.

I know you investigate
all accidental deaths,

but, uh, surely any
questions you have of me

will wait
till tomorrow?

If it's an emergency,
we won't hold you.

One of my men'll
take you and bring you back.

Bring me back?!

Now, look here,
Sergeant...
One moment, Dr. Younger.

Sergeant Bradley,
this wasn't an accidental death?

No, Mr. Mason.

Philip Paisley
was m*rder*d.

The m*rder*r connected
a long piece of piano wire

from the top of the elevator
cage to the field coils

inside the motor housing
above the elevator shaft.

Now, in order to do this,
the m*rder*r had to know

quite a bit
about electrical motors--

enough to hook up the wire,
so that when the elevator

started down, it pulled open
what are called "shunt fields."

That elevator just
didn't fall five stories,

it picked up extra speed
the whole way down.

Do the authorities
have any leads?

They do.

When Philip Paisley moved in,
it was Bonnie Craig

who ordered the elevator
restored to service.

According to the repairman,
and I quote,

"She seemed unusually interested
in how the elevator worked,

"what might conceivably
go wrong with it,

and what
safety features it had."

Paul, you can't convince me
that a girl like Bonnie

would be interested
in an elevator

just to use it
to k*ll somebody.

Well, Sheriff's Homicide's
easier to convince.

Especially when Dr. Younger
admits that earlier last night

he saw Bonnie Craig
go into Philip Paisley's room,

carrying a screwdriver
and a pair of pliers.

Then the police
must be sure

that she's the one who
fixed the elevator.

What are you
doing here, David?

Well, you
gave him permission

to use the law library today,
remember,

Perry?

Say, Mr. Mason, if you're
talking about that m*rder

last night, the one with the
mediums and trances, then you

ought to see Puharich at the
Parapsychology Laboratory.

Puharich?

Dr. Andrija Puharich-- I've
known him for some time now.

He's one of the top
ESP men in the country.

Extrasensory
perception?

That's right.

Thank you, David.

That's not a bad idea.

But first things first.

Paul... I want
an investigation

of everyone connected

with this case,
past or present,

and a complete check
on every person

who was in the Walker home last
night, with particular emphasis

on whether any
of their backgrounds include

electrical training
or experience.
(phone rings)

Yes, Gertie?

Hold on.

Bonnie Craig.

Put her on, Gertie.

Yes, Bonnie?

Perry...

I need your help, please.

I'm being arrested...

for the m*rder
of Philip Paisley.

Interested in it?

Well, of course I
was interested in it.

I wanted to make sure
the elevator was safe.

And that's the
truth, Perry.

All right.

You didn't want
another accident to occur,

so that accounts for your
interest in the elevator.

But what about those tools

Dr. Younger saw you taking
into Philip's room?

Well, they had nothing
to do with the elevator.

Then with what
did they have to do?

I knew Philip
was a fraud.

I'd seen him one day in his
room practicing the poetry

and other bits of information
he used in his phony trances.

They were written down
and hidden in his room,

I was sure of it.

If I could just find
those written notes,

I could prove
he was a fraud.

So you went looking
for the notes

with pliers and a screwdriver?

I-I'd seen a small locked
metal box hidden in his room.

The notes had to be in there.

I wanted to make sure
I could open it.

But he must have somehow
known I'd seen it,

because it wasn't in the room.

It was gone.

Now, when you went into his room

with those tools,
how did you know Philip

wouldn't just walk in
and surprise you?

Well, I-I just knew he
wouldn't come back upstairs

until after the séance.

You just knew?

How?

(sighs):
I deliberately got him drunk.

You got him drunk?

Yes.

I kept serving him highballs
that were almost all liquor.

With the appetite
Philip had for drinking,

it wasn't very difficult.

Did anyone see you preparing or
serving him those loaded drinks?

Oh, I'm not sure.

I suppose his wife
could've seen me.

Or maybe Helen,
Mother's secretary/companion.

The tools,

getting him drunk--

all that looks pretty bad,
doesn't it?

That depends on the answer
to one question.

I want the truth now, Bonnie,
without equivocation.

"The fraud whose hoax
turned hope to dread

shall take his place
among the dead."

When you wrote those words,

were you or were you not
faking a trance?

Perry...

I'll take an oath on all
that's dear and sacred to me.

I don't know what happened...

or how I came
to write those words.

I was not acting or faking,
so help me!

Philip Paisley was the only
one who ever used that elevator.

He kept his car
in a garage

at the base of it.

Everyone knew that.

Also, his drunken rages
generally ended

in his taking the elevator down
and going for a fast ride.

And the authorities believe

Mrs. Craig tampered
with that elevator?

Exactly.

Now, this is the key
to the whole problem.

Was her trance genuine,
or was the trance

and the writing--
like getting him drunk--

part of a deliberate
attempt to m*rder him?

Uh, what can you tell me
about a trance, Doctor?

Well, there are a great,
great many sincere people

who consider
themselves spiritists.

To them, trance is a method
of giving the subconscious mind

an opportunity
to express itself

without the interference
of the conscious mind.

From a legal point of view,
Dr. Puharich,

what exactly is a trance?

Nothing evidential that you,
as an attorney,

could or would want
to take into court.

So, it's legally impossible
to prove

whether Mrs. Craig's trance
was genuine or faked?

Trance may be a state
of hysteria--

a way of releasing repressed
or unconscious tendencies

the person wouldn't express
under normal circumstances.

Suppose, Doctor,
we were dealing with

an area of abnormality--

a person who had just set
a m*rder trap,

as Bonnie Craig is supposed
to have done

in fixing that elevator.

Would or could such a person
openly express a thr*at

to their intended victim?

Well, actually,
as you put it, no.

Mentally, there would be
an impassable defensive block

against self-incrimination.

Realistically, she could no more
betray herself in a trance

than a person under hypnosis
can be forced to act

against his own moral scruples.

As an expert, would you
testify to that?

Certainly.

So would any
qualified expert... if

Mrs. Craig
were proven

to have been in
an actual trance.

Well...

Back to the river with no boat
and no bridge.

Maybe not,
Mr. Mason.

What do you mean?

If her trance were genuine,
it might indicate the presence

of some extrasensory perception
on her part.

We could prove that legally,

no more.

The backdoor approach.

If she has any ESP, perhaps
her trance was genuine.

(phone ringing)

Excuse me.

Dr. Puharich.

For you.

Mason.

Perry, I got something
pretty interesting.

A phony ex-fortune teller
named Princess Charlotte,

who now bills herself as a
spiritualist, which she isn't.

Anyway, she may
have been involved

in whatever swindle it was

Philip Paisley was
pulling on Mrs. Walker.

Also, Philip Paisley was
a blackmailer,

and get this--
he was blackmailing

old lady Walker's son-in-law,
Michael Craig.

Philip wasn't blackmailing me.

Not directly.

He was putting
the pressure on Bonnie.

He found out about a business
matter I was involved in.

Something of...
questionable legality.

He made it rough
on Bonnie,

and he threatened to take
the matter to the police,

unless we agreed to...
to arrange for him

to become a vice president
of Walker Industries.

The colossal nerve
of the man.

Doctor, why did you go
to Philip's room

the night he was m*rder*d?

What?

When you saw Bonnie go
into his room with those tools.

Weren't you there
to see him yourself?

Why yes, I was.
You're right.

To ask him to leave here.

To stop torturing
Sylvia with memories,

before it was too late.

Tell me, how long have you been
in love with Sylvia Walker?

I've loved her ever since
the day I first met her.

No, Mr. Mason, I didn't
k*ll Philip Paisley.

As a doctor, my concern
is with saving lives,

not taking them.

But if I had wanted
to k*ll him,

if the thought
had occurred to me,

I wouldn't have used
an elevator.

I would have used
my bare hands.

Sure.

Sure, you all
hated him.

You all wanted
to see him dead.

Why, this whole
high-hattin' family

is nothing but a bunch
of phonies.

Yeah, phonies.

Just like Phil was.

But before I go, there's
something I'm gonna tell you.

You may as well hear
it right now,

'cause I already told
the district attorney.

They didn't make no mistake
when they arrested Bonnie.

No sirree, they didn't.

She and my husband
were having themselves

a little love affair.

When I told him I knew
he was playing around

all the time, he...

he laughed at me,
he admitted it.

He said, "Sure, I just dropped
my latest girlfriend like

a hot potato,
and she's boiling mad."

And maybe you think that
won't sound nice and juicy

when I tell it
in court.

Good-bye...

family.

Your Honor, the answers
of this witness

are not responsive.

Miss Garden, for many years,
has been secretary-companion

to the defendant's mother.

It's obvious
that her loyalties

are with the Walker family.

If the witness is not
more responsive,

the court will rule her
a hostile witness

and the prosecutor
will be permitted

to ask leading questions.

Proceed.

Very well, Your Honor.

Now, Miss Garden,
it's been testified here

that the decedent,
Philip Paisley,

was a frequent
and a heavy drinker.

And further, that
when he was drunk,

if anything occurred
to upset him

that he always reacted
in the same manner.

Now I ask you
in exactly what manner

he always reacted
in the circumstances

I just described?

He'd take the elevator
down to his car

and go driving.

Did you ever have a discussion

with the defendant,
Bonnie Craig,

to indicate that she was aware
of this behavior pattern?

Yes.

Did you ever see Bonnie Craig
and the decedent embracing

or kissing each other?

GARDEN:
Yes.

The day he moved
into the house.

BURGER:
Really?

Now, Miss Garden, did
you ever have a discussion

with the defendant

on the matter of
the pressure placed on

her or her husband
by the decedent, Philip Paisley,

to have himself appointed
a vice president

of Walker Industries?

Yes.

Mrs. Craig was very angry

and talked to me about where
Philip Paisley was getting

the information
he was using

to blackmail
the family.

I assured her I had never spoken
to Mr. Paisley

about those matters.

Well, would you repeat
the specific remark

made by the defendant
during this discussion

concerning the decedent?

Mrs. Craig said she'd see
Philip Paisley...

dead and buried before
she'd let him ruin the family.

BURGER:
Thank you.

Finally, one
last matter.

During this hearing,

the defense counsel,
Mr. Mason,

has consistently tried
to give the impression

that the defendant's
so-called "trance"

on the night of the m*rder
was... (chuckles) genuine.

I ask if you ever saw the
defendant simulate a trance.

Yes, once.

About a week before the m*rder.

But it was only a joke.

She...

well, she was
imitating Philip.

Making believe she was
in one of his trances and...

writing some of his poetry.

You saw the defendant,
Bonnie Craig,

pretending to be in a trance,

and while she was in this
make-believe trance

pretending to be performing
a*t*matic writing?

Yes.

BURGER: Thank you very
much, Miss Garden.

That will be all.

Cross-examine.

No questions.

Witness is excused.

Does the prosecution
have any further witnesses?

No, Your Honor.

The prosecution has shown
that the defendant had access

to the death elevator

at the time that it must
have been tampered with,

and that she was seen
in the immediate vicinity

actually carrying tools.

We have demonstrated
two strong motivations.

First, that Bonnie Craig
was a woman scorned--

cast aside after
a sordid affair

with the decedent.

And second, that Bonnie Craig
was a woman desperate

to protect her own and her
husband's financial security.

And we have introduced testimony
that under such motivation,

she deliberately got
Philip Paisley first drunk

and then angry, and thus
sent him to his death

as surely as if she
had held a g*n against
his head and sh*t him.

Your Honor,
the prosecution

asks that the defendant,
Bonnie Craig,

be bound over for trial
in Superior Court.

Mr. Mason, do you wish to
present a defense at this time?

May it please the court, uh,
defense requests a short recess

for the purpose of
consultation with
the defendant.

All right.

The, uh, court'll stand recessed
for minutes.

What kind of a defense could
you possibly put on, Perry?

Spirit writing
on a Ouija board?

Or maybe you'd like
to materialize

some nice ghostly ectoplasm
right here in court.

I don't know-- I may even put
Bonnie Craig on the stand

and let her tell
her own story.

What? And let me destroy that
story on cross-examination?

Putting that woman
on the stand

would be like giving her
a one-way ticket

to the gas chamber.

No, you won't do that.

Perry Mason doesn't
make mistakes like that.

Or does he?

Perry.

I just heard what
the prosecutor said.

You can't possibly
let Bonnie testify.

That, Sylvia, will
be my decision.

Or more important,
Bonnie's decision.

Bonnie, I must know exactly
what your relationship was

with Philip Paisley.

Elaine Paisley was lying.

Then you never went out
with her husband?

Well, I...

I want the truth, Bonnie.

All right, I went out
with him once.

Just once.

I thought maybe
I could talk to him--

make him understand--
even-even buy him off.

Well, he was drunk, ugly.

He tried to make love to me.

I-I hit him, and I ran away.

Perry, please believe me.

All right, Bonnie,
I believe you.

Now, will you believe me?

Trust me?

Will you testify
on your own behalf?

Your Honor, it is our desire

to present a defense
in this hearing.

Toward that end, it will be
essential to introduce

an unusual demonstration.

I request,
therefore, that the court

and the necessary parties
to the proceedings

adjourn to the Parapsychology
Laboratory

of Dr. Andrija Puharich.

What's the nature
of this demonstration?

I'm sure the court is aware
that a key issue in this case

is whether or not,
on the night of the m*rder,

the defendant did indeed
enter a genuine state of trance.

Oh, come now, Mr. Mason.

You can't hope to introduce
evidence into a court of law

establishing the validity
of a so-called trance.

No, Your Honor, but I do intend
to demonstrate

scientifically and legally

whether or not the defendant
possesses that capacity

known as extrasensory
perception.

On the basis, I suppose,
of an inferential assumption.

That if she does possess
this extrasensory perception,

that she could have,
without faking,

have gone into this so-called

trance?
That's correct, Your Honor.

No, Mr. Mason, I'm sorry.
I just can't...

Your Honor, please.

Mr. Mason, in order
to make this demonstration,

will you put the defendant
under oath as a witness?

Yes, I will.

And, of course, I'll have the
right to cross-examine her?

Of course.

Your Honor, the prosecution
has absolutely no objection

to this demonstration.

Well, in that case, and since
this is a preliminary hearing,

the court will permit
the demonstration.

Court is adjourned
for the day,

and will reconvene
tomorrow morning at :

at the Parapsychology
Laboratory.

Thomas Leslie Walker was
a perpetual motion Casanova.

He just couldn't leave
a pretty girl alone.

He was always in hot water
and always paying off.

Paying off?

Ah, paternity suits,
settlements, you name it.

A bad, bad boy,
the late Mr. Walker.

What about those
electrical backgrounds?

DRAKE:
Well, we almost
struck out there.

We barely had time to
scratch the surface.

However, Michael Craig was a
former Signal Corps officer

with training in
elemental electricity.

Bonnie's husband?

Why would he want to
k*ll Philip Paisley?

Well, Paisley was supposedly
romancing his wife

and at the same time,
supposedly blackmailing him.

MASON: Did you
investigate that?

Smoke, but not much fire.

The Walker company books
had been juggled,

and there was
a substantial
shortage of cash.

Now...

Mike Craig may not have
pocketed the dough,

but it was his department

and, consequently,
his responsibility.

Michael Craig is the only one
with electrical training?

No. There was somebody else

who could've booby-trapped
that elevator.

Your client,
Bonnie Craig.

It seems that during college,
she spent three summers working

for one of Walker Industries'
many subsidiary companies.

MASON:
Electrical?

Appliance--
and Burger knows it.

If he ever gets her
on the stand, look out.

He'll get that chance
tomorrow, Paul.

Oh, no, you're not gonna
let her testify?

Yes...

(door opens, closes)
I'm going to let her testify.

I must have checked
every bar and roadhouse

within a radius
of miles.

You were
absolutely right--

I got five positive
identifications of
those photographs.

(phone rings)

Perry Mason's office.

Just one moment, please.

Dr. Puharich.

Yes, Doctor?

Is the, uh, faraday cage ready?

Fine, we'll be right over.

What is a faraday cage?

It's...
Uh...

Go ahead, David.

A way of
testing for ESP.

Perry... is it really
that important?

I mean, if your client has ESP
and if the trance was genuine?

Whether or not Bonnie Craig
goes to the gas chamber

for first-degree m*rder
may depend upon the results

of this testing tomorrow.

Particularly on what happens
with the faraday cage.

Uh, extrasensory perception--
ESP-- is the capacity

with which some people
are apparently able to perceive

beyond the range
of the recognized senses.

The tests to be run here are
designed to discover and measure

the degree of such capacity.

The prosecution has already

stipulated as to the
expert qualifications
of Dr. Andrija Puharich,

who has prepared and will
evaluate these tests.

Now, another person is needed
to participate with Mrs. Craig

in the test to be run here.

Uh, Mrs. Paisley,
would you sit down, please?

Now, this computer
is programmed

to make one thousand
random choices

of numerals from one to ten.

As, uh, Dr. Puharich
has constructed the test,

he postulates that, uh...
a person with ESP

should be able to guess
a scientifically predictable

percentage
of those random numbers.

Dr. Puharich?

(low electrical humming)

All right,
Mrs. Craig.

(pressing keys)

(pressing keys)

(pressing keys)

Elaine Paisley scored
correct choices

out of one thousand.

Bonnie Craig

scored correct choices
out of one thousand.

Neither score exceeds
chance expectation.

This means no ESP indicated
for either lady tested.

Mr. Craig, would you help
us with this test, please?

Of course.

Fold your arms, please.

Make no sound, no movement
during the test runs.

Now, as your wife
tries to match the

correct symbols, concentrate
just as hard as you

can on the
correct symbols

as your wife's
hand comes near them.

Doctor?

PUHARICH:
This, closest to you
on the bottom,

is the match row with
your left hand on it.

This, on top, with
your right hand on it,

is the target row.

Choose any one of
the top ten boxes

you think matches the box you
are touching in the bottom row

and take that box
out of the top row

and place it in the
middle matching row

above the one
on the bottom.

All right, Mrs. Craig?

(box clacks into place)

(box clacks into place)

(box clacks into place)

(box clacks into place)

In this test,
as in the first test,

no extrasensory
perception.

Well, Your Honor, I think
this has gone far enough.

Mr. Mason has made-- or, rather,
failed to make-- his point.

Yes, I'm inclined
to agree.

Well, Mr. Mason?

One more test,
Your Honor.

Even where minimal, normally
nonmeasurable ESP exists, uh,

Dr. Puharich's scientifically
experienced contention is

that the charged
faraday cage technique

will indicate it.

This will be
our last test.

JUDGE: All right, Mr. Mason,
you may go on with your test.

Very well, Your Honor.

Uh, Miss Garden,
would you help us
with this one, please?

Um, just sit over
there at the table.

Now, this time we
will use two trays,

one outside the cage.

Inside the cage, Mrs. Craig
will attempt, on signal,

to duplicate the sequential
arrangement on her tray.

Oh, yes, we'll need,
uh, one other person

inside the cage
with Mrs. Craig.

Uh, Dr. Younger,
would you, please?

Oh, one moment, Doctor.

I'd better caution
everyone in this room,

but most particularly
the two people

who will be inside the cage,

that once the cage
is in operation

there are , volts
of electricity

on the copper surface.

Don't touch it.

And you're sending us inside?

The chairs and the tables
on the inside of the cage

are mounted on glass insulators.

Keep your hands either on
the tables or in your laps.

Now, all of you, either
inside or outside the cage...

, volts.

Do not touch the cage.

Isn't this
unnecessarily dangerous?

You're not worried,
are you, Dr. Younger?

(sighs) If I knew enough
about electricity

really to be worried, I should
then have been expert enough

to have tampered
with the elevator motor

that k*lled Philip Paisley--
is that what you mean?

That's right, Doctor.

The m*rder*r was expert
in the knowledge of electricity.

But my warning was intended...

merely as a safety measure.

MASON:
Ready with
the signal

to the inside
of the cage, David?

GIDEON:
Yes, sir.

MASON:
Now, Miss Garden,

completely at random,
take any box

from the bottom of the row
and place it to your left

at the top
of the row.

Signal, David.

(clicks)

All right, Miss Garden,
another box.

Signal.

(clicks)

Another box.

Signal.

(electrical crackling,
clamoring shouts)

(electrical crackling stops)

Miss Garden...

your back was
to that switchboard

when the electricity
was turned on.

How did you know exactly

which was the right
switch to pull?

Why, I-I just...
I just...

Just guessed?

Oh, no, Miss Garden,
you didn't guess,

any more than you had to guess
how to open the shunt fields

on an elevator motor.

Now, if we check
back far enough,

before you went to work
for Sylvia Walker, we'll find

an electrical background,
won't we, Miss Garden?

Please, please, no.

Bonnie Craig wasn't
Philip's girlfriend.

It wasn't Bonnie
he dropped; it was you.

And it was you, as well
as the Walker family,

he was blackmailing,
was it not?

Yes.

Yes, Philip found out.

What was it he found?

That you had been in love
with Thomas Leslie Walker?

That you'd committed
a crime for him?

Yes.

Tom and I were...

were in love.

MASON:
Tom was in trouble.

He was being sued
by another woman.

You didn't know
that, did you?

All you knew was
that he needed money,

money you helped him get,
isn't that right?

I had... access to the books.

Books juggled
not by Michael Craig;

books juggled by you

to raise cash for Tom.

When the shortage
was discovered,

Tom was safe, but not you.

He laughed at me!

He fooled me!

He... used me to steal for him,
and then he laughed at me!

I wasn't going to jail for him!

I...

I fixed the elevator.

Tom was k*lled, and...

it looked like an accident.

I thought I was safe.

MASON:
Safe, until Philip
Paisley came along

and started digging--

digging for blackmail
information.

He found out e...

enough to guess what I had done
in juggling the books, and...

sooner or later,
he'd find out I k*lled Tom.

And you were trapped.

Now there would
be no safe job

with your future
well provided for.

Now there would only be a trial
for the m*rder of Thomas Walker.

So you figured...

there was just one thing to do.

I did it before.

I did it again.

I fixed the elevator.

I k*lled Philip Paisley!

Even though Paul hadn't
uncovered the history

of her electrical training
before the hearing,

we were sure
there had to be one.

Under pressure, and believing
her own life in danger,

she, uh, gave herself away.

And once the dam broke,
everything poured out.

A confession
to two murders.

But what about that
trance of mine?

Oh, I spoke
to Dr. Puharich.

Uh, that partial test you
took in the faraday cage,

well, it seems you do have
extrasensory perception.

Very latent, very
mild, but present.

Well now, what in the
world do I do with it?

Uh, call yourself
Countess Bonnie

and give readings
with an accent.

(laughter)
Oh, Mike!

(theme music plays)