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By Root 838 0

visitors of the law firm’s good judgment and prestige, Ruffled me to the conference room. There I met Paul Minor, the polygraph expert. After introductions, Mr. Minor explained to me his background and experience with the examination. Mr. Minor, too, was a man of few words, except to recite his credentials. He’d begun with the army and then with the FBI as polygraph program coordinator, revamping the agency’s use of the examination in investigations. Throughout his career the FBI had ranked his work as “exceptional.” Letters from William Webster himself attested to the agency’s confidence in him. Finally, he started his own private investigation firm. All told, Minor had about twenty years of training and experience using the polygraph. Clearly, he had explained the process many times before. But his stern face and tone indicated that he was not particularly interested in responding to questions about his expertise. All of which indicated a hostility—at the least a criticism—as though he were on the verge of chastising me. “So what,” I sighed to myself with a sense of resignation. After all, his demeanor was no worse than what I had experienced from the Senate Judiciary Committee members just two days prior. I had come to expect no better. At least no one could accuse Minor of being biased in my favor. It occurred to me that whether I reported the results of the examination or not, the information would surely get out. The press, I was certain, would somehow learn of the examination and the matter would be disclosed whatever the result.

The conference room itself had a strangely calming effect. It was small, with no windows, and neutral-colored, textured walls on which hung few embellishments of any sort. The drone of the fluorescent lights and the walls themselves muted any outside noises, a welcomed break from my hotel room, where the unavoidable television set served as a constant reminder of the hearing. From Friday to Sunday morning my scenery had not changed, as I had holed up in the room listening to the testimony of Thomas and his witnesses well into the night.

Paul Minor’s explanation of how the examination process worked made me realize its importance. As he ran through the questions he would ask, ensuring that I understood them, I thought of all the different ways I’d been asked the same questions over the past week. At one point he asked me if I had ever done anything to encourage Clarence Thomas’ behavior or to give the impression that his conduct was invited. It was like FBI investigator Luton’s question about whether I dressed provocatively at work. And not unlike so many other questions which amounted to a familiar accusation, “You must have done something to deserve this.” But here, rather than anger, the question stirred self-doubt. Minor, Luton, and now even I couldn’t help but reflect society’s training to question the behavior of the accuser, rather than the behavior of the accused.

“Sometimes,” I tried to explain, returning to the period ten years prior, “when these things happen, you wonder whether you have done or said something that might be misinterpreted. But I had done nothing purposely to give Thomas the impression that I was interested in him other than as his assistant.” Once more I searched my mind for something that Thomas might have misconstrued and found nothing.

The pre-test interview completed, Minor began the test. Through a system of wires and suction cups and Velcro as I recall, he hooked me to the polygraph machine—which began to measure my blood pressure, heart rate, and respiration. I sat facing the wall and with my back to Mr. Minor and his polygraph machine. Over the drone of the lights, I could hear the graphs of my responses to his questions being drawn onto white paper as it fed through the machine.

Paul Minor: “Have you deliberately lied to me about Clarence Thomas?”

Anita Hill: “No.” The machine scratched out a graph of my response.

Paul Minor: “Are you fabricating the allegation that Clarence Thomas discussed pornographic material with you?”

Anita Hill: “No.” Again,