“No, he did not. I was hired through the HR department.”
“And assigned to Project Clair.”
“Correct.”
“Can you read the paragraph that is highlighted on the printout of the memo?”
“Yes. It says, ‘I feel I am up to speed now on Project Clair, and you asked me to put the concerns I mentioned in our meeting into a memo. My chief concerns are about the biases I believe are being embedded in the training program. Our coders are all male. This creates a bias when training a female AI companion. Perhaps more important, it is my understanding that this model is designed and intended to have a thirteen-plus rating. Frankly, this seems inappropriate. Has the horse left the barn or is this a decision we can reconsider?’”
As Kitchens finished reading the section, Lorna put the full memo on the screen.
“Thank you, Naomi,” I said. “Did you get a response to this memo?”
“Not in written form,” Kitchens said. “Jerry took me to the campus cafeteria for a coffee and we talked. That was his response.”
“Did he say he would act on your concerns?”
“He told me—”
Marcus Mason objected, arguing that anything Kitchens claimed Matthews told her was excluded under hearsay rules. The judge agreed and I had to find another path to the answer I wanted.
“Okay, Naomi,” I said. “Your memo led to a meeting with theboss in the cafeteria. After that meeting, were changes made to the training of Clair, the AI companion that was going to be offered to thirteen-year-old children?”
“No,” Kitchens said. “No changes were made.”
And so it went. We brought up each memo and email, displaying to the jury what I believed was a solid case that Tidalwaiv had run roughshod over the many warnings made by the ethicist assigned to Project Clair. I ended on the email Kitchens had sent to Jerry Matthews on the day she was terminated.
“Can you read what you wrote to Mr. Matthews after learning your employment at Tidalwaiv had been terminated?” I asked.
“Yes,” Kitchens said. “I wrote, ‘Jerry, one last time, I can’t stress enough the liability the company will encounter should Clair say the wrong thing or encourage the wrong behavior or action by a child user. I am glad I won’t be part of the company when that happens.’”
I looked down at my legal pad for a long moment, hoping the fired ethicist’s final words would leave a deep impact on the jury.
“‘Encourage the wrong behavior or action by a child user,’” I repeated. “Naomi, did you ever in your wildest dreams think that the wrong action would be a murder—”
“Objection!” Marcus Mason exclaimed.
“Committed by a child user?” I finished.
“Mr. Haller, you know better,” the judge said. “The jury will disregard the question.”
“Sorry, Your Honor,” I said. “Could I have a moment? I am almost finished with Dr. Kitchens’s testimony.”
“Be quick,” Ruhlin said.
I turned and glanced back at the courtroom clock. It was 4:05 and I believed I had timed things well. My finish would take us to the final bell.
“Naomi, did you quit your job at Tidalwaiv?” I asked.
“No, I was terminated,” Kitchens said.
“Terminated. Were you given a reason?”
“I was called into Mr. Matthews’s office and told I was fired for actions detrimental to the project.”
“Did you ask for a fuller explanation?”
“I did but was not given one. But I had been warned previously that my memos and concerns about the project were viewed as harmful to the project.”
