“My name is not Joseph,” Wilson said. “As far as I know it’s Wilson Gentry. Does that ring a bell?”
Haverston stood and slowly moved over to his desk and stood behind it.
“There is no need to be afraid of me,” Wilson said. “I don’t know you. All I can surmise is that you treated me while I was in the Army. I don’t have any recollection of you or the treatment, nothing.”
“Than how did you find me?” Haverston said.
“Your name appeared on a file in a lawyers safe,” Wilson stood and edged closer to Haverston‘s desk. “Never mind how I found out about it. I found out that my memory loss started 30 years ago. I have a friend in law enforcement who directed me to Ft. Benjamin Harrison in Indianapolis. I went there and for the first time in the last few months something seemed familiar, a bar just off post.”
“Yes,” Haverston said. “I remember it.”
“I went inside and never mind all the details, but I found someone who knew me and I mentioned your name to them and they remembered me talking about you,” Wilson said. “And that’s why I’m here. I was under your care, why?”
“You can get the records yourself,” Haverston said. “You don’t need me.”
“You see, Dr. Haverston,” Wilson said. “Your name is in my file and that file is held in a private safe I have tendency to think what is going on is far more than me being under the care of a psychologists and just merely finding out why. There is something more to this and I think you are involved.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Haverston said. “I evaluated you and passed my findings on to the Advocates office and they handled it from there.”
“Was there a trial?” Wilson said.
“Yes,” Haverston said.
“Did you testify?” Wilson said.
“Yes,” Haverston said.
“What did you tell them?” Wilson said.
“I told them you were unfit for military duty,” Haverston said.
“Why?” Wilson said.
“You were mentally unstable,” Haverston said. “You suffered from a psychological defense mechanism called denialism.”
“What was I denying?” Wilson said.
Haverston hesitated and held his tongue between his teeth.
“You shouldn’t be a afraid to tell me,” Wilson said. “I know you have something to say. Just tell me and I’m out of here.”
“My concern is if your amnesia is real it may push you further away from who you really are,” Haverson said.
“How many cases of real amnesia did you ever come across, Dr. Haverston?” Wilson said.
“One,” Haverston said. “Yours, but I was never really sure. I thought you were just clever.”
“I have 30 years of proof,” Wilson said.
“Or 30 years of denial,” Haverston said. “And you have gone to great lengths to preserve the story to hide what you can’t face.”
Wilson shook his head incredulously. “If I’m faking, what’s the harm?”
The room filled with an uncomfortable silence.
Haverston pressed his lips and blurted, “You killed a man.”
Wilson squinted and turned his ear toward Haverston as if he wasn’t sure what he heard. “What?”
(Edit note: I’m writing this story as I go. At times changes have been made. Currently I am near the end of the story. Likely there will be over 100 episodes. I have changed the length of my protagonists’ amnesia from 37 to 30 years. The reason is that it just fits better with the time line in my own mind. My choosing 37 years to begin with was more arbitrary and personal than I care to explain at this point.)