In November 1920, Dr. R. W. Brown, a well-known African American medical doctor from Washington, D.C., was visited by a patient in his office. The two men conversed briefly, and then, for an unknown reason, the patient drew a .45 caliber revolver and fired at least four times. One round struck Dr. Brown in the temple, causing his death. The revolver was left at the scene with the victim, and the assailant escaped.
In the following months, Brown's family offered a $1,000 reward for the capture of the shooter, but nearly a year later, no arrests had been made.
In August 1921, Mr. James A. Frye was arrested on unrelated theft and fraud charges. During the investigation, law enforcement officials asked Frye about the shooting of Dr. Brown the previous year. In response, Frye confessed to the killing. He claimed that the two men had gotten into a disagreement, that Dr. Brown struck him, and that he shot the doctor in self-defense. The confession was replete with incriminating details.
With the confession in hand, prosecutors filed murder charges against the 25-year-old Black man. Frye later recanted, saying the confession had been coerced by investigators. He claimed a detective convinced him that if he confessed, he would be acquitted and could receive a portion of the $1,000 reward.
During the legal proceedings, two defense attorneys became convinced of police misconduct and were desperate to exonerate Frye despite his confession. They contacted Mr. William Marston, who had invented the systolic blood pressure deception test (a precursor to the modern lie detector) in 1915. Eager to promote his invention, Marston went to the prison, administered the test to Frye, and submitted the results. He stated:
"I gave him [Frye] a deception test in the district jail. No one could have been more surprised than myself to find that Frye’s final story of innocence was entirely truthful! His confession to the Brown murder was a lie from start to finish."
The judge reviewed Marston’s testimony but promptly rejected the lie detector results, stating that the apparatus was not "a matter of common knowledge." He added that when lie detectors become as common as telephones, they might be used to determine facts. Until then, he said, "juries must determine if a witness is truthful."
Frye was convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison.
On appeal, the judge’s ruling was upheld in a terse, direct opinion:
"The thing from which a deduction is made must be sufficiently established to have gained general acceptance in the particular field in which it belongs."
Thus, the exclusion of Marston’s lie detector was affirmed. Because the apparatus had not yet achieved standing, the testimony derived from it was inadmissible.
For over a century since Frye v. United States, the “Frye Test” has governed the admissibility of scientific evidence in court. It is still routinely referenced today. If testimony is based on new science, it may be ruled inadmissible. If it is based on generally accepted science, it might be allowed. Passing the Frye Test means the science is acknowledged as “generally accepted,” in other words, “good enough.”
And where is the line between “new science” and “generally accepted” science? That’s complicated. The law refers to this murky area as a “twilight zone.”
In an interesting twist, Marston remained committed to lie detection and truth-telling throughout his career. Decades after Frye v. United States, he worked for a publishing company that eventually became DC Comics, the publisher of Batman and Superman. In 1941, Marston convinced the publishers to introduce Wonder Woman, the first female superhero, whose only superpower was the Lasso of Truth, a direct reference to Marston’s polygraph technology. Today, Wonder Woman’s lariat forces anyone it captures into submission, compelling them to obey and tell the truth.
More than 100 years later, the admissibility of polygraph results remains controversial. Twenty-nine of the fifty U.S. states exclude polygraph evidence under all circumstances. Fifteen states allow it if both parties stipulate to its use before testing. Only New Mexico routinely admits polygraph results.
Embedded in Frye v. United States is a foundational question for all subject matter experts: When does your audience accept science, and when does it reject it? Which innovations inspire trust, and which provoke suspicion?
In a court of law, the Frye Test determines the admissibility of science, explicitly defined and objectively vetted. In the courtroom of public opinion, however, experts may not know whether their science is perceived as generally acceptable. Laypeople apply their own subjective Frye Test. They draw lines through the twilight zone separating the new from the established. They decide, sometimes ambiguously, whether science and deductive reasoning are “good enough” for general acceptance.
The first time an audience hears a new idea, invention, or technology, they’re inclined to reject it. It won’t pass their internal Frye Test. Just because you’ve studied something for years doesn’t mean others will automatically believe your testimony. Like New Mexico’s acceptance of lie detectors, there may be just one in fifty who accepts your testimony unconditionally. Some will accept it with caveats; others will reject it outright.
Great experts pass the Frye Test. They move their audience from the twilight zone of doubt into the realm of general acceptance.
