After Etan

by Lisa R. Cohen

  Clemente didn’t have inside info on the new developments, but based on what he’d read, the experienced profiler thought it a sham. If Hernandez had no motive, he reminded Miller, then he was either a psychopath or psychotic, and either way he almost always would repeat-offend. Clemente was even more incredulous of Hernandez’s earlier admissions to his family, critical to the case since they helped corroborate his current confession.

  “ ‘I killed a child back in New York’?” he told Miller. “ ‘Killed’? ‘Child’? ‘New York’? How much more generic could you be? Why wouldn’t he say, ‘I strangled a boy’? Or ‘I strangled Etan Patz—in the basement of the bodega’? Instead it’s vague, could apply to any scenario. Just like John Mark Carr famously did with JonBenet Ramsey in the mid ’90s.”

  “ ‘I was with JonBenet when she died,’ ” Clemente recited Carr’s fabricated guilty plea. “Not that he killed her, or how he did it, but vague. That’s how it’s done. Classic false confession.

  “If Hernandez did this,” Clemente concluded, “as far as we know it was never preceded or superceded by the same kind of violent act. That’s what you’re looking for in the killer.”

  Clemente’s skepticism reflected what Miller had been hearing from other former FBI colleagues. The investigation was a joint FBI–NYPD effort, and both NYPD and FBI had a presence at the Othniel Miller basement dig. But the Bureau hadn’t been out in New Jersey the night Hernandez confessed. No one from the FBI had made a public appearance at Ray Kelly’s Thursday night press conference. The relationship between the NYPD and the FBI was complicated, and at times tense. This was one of those times—in a case where shades of gray were the most prominent colors, the players preferred either black or white.

  Pedro Hernandez was due back in court a month after his May 25 arraignment, to hear the results of his 730 psych exam. If he were found competent to stand trial, the DA would then move to indict. But just days before the deadline, the DA’s office announced they were postponing the next step to conduct a proper investigation in a “measured and fair manner.” Defense attorney Harvey Fishbein agreed, and Hernandez would not be indicted but remain in custody until October 1, which would give the DA and the NYPD a little more than three months to build their case.

  As I write this, with the urge to make sense of such an unexpected new twist, that clock is ticking. By the time you read these words, it may all be over, following any number of scenarios.

  Maybe the time bought for investigators will net them the evidence they need, the evidence they’ve had insufficient time to uncover: at best, Etan’s body—however unlikely that is—but maybe they’ll find Hernandez does have a prior history of violence; that there’s a string of such hidden crimes; that he did sexually assault Etan that day; or that he has a record of child molestation. Maybe others will come forward with compelling testimony that Hernandez told them graphically of his crime. Perhaps he will tell authorities of critical details only the killer could know.

  Or maybe they’ll find nothing. There could be a much murkier outcome. Pedro Hernandez could plead guilty, or he could win on an insanity defense. Either would close the case, and for some, that might be enough. But others would find it less satisfying—if he proved to be severely disturbed, he might merely have imagined he’d done the crime, even if he hadn’t. And if the psychiatric exam showed he wasn’t competent to stand trial at all, the case would remain open but more stalled than it ever had been.

  When the Patz case made news again this year, it captivated the public. Stan and Julie aren’t the only ones who want an answer. We all want the answer to what happened to Etan Patz on May 25, 1979. Unfortunately, the new developments may have left us with even more questions, and only a few things seem certain to me: One is that this story is due for more twists and turns. As my FBI contacts are fond of telling me, the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior, and this case has never behaved as expected. The other thing I know for sure is that on November 7, 2012, a month after Pedro Hernandez is due back in court, a different, long-term suspect in the Patz case will walk free.

  Jose Antonio Ramos has been incarcerated since June 23, 1986, when he was delivered by the Pennsylvania State Police from his colorfully painted schoolbus, stranded midhighway, to the Warren County Jail. Despite his repeated requests for parole—always denied—at age sixty-nine Ramos will have served his maximum sentence, over twenty-six years. He will not have laid eyes on a child in all that time, and he will never have completed a sex offender treatment course.

  Pennsylvania doesn’t have civil commitment for adult offenders—a vehicle some states use to keep sex offenders locked up past their max date for “involuntary treatment.” So the state has no choice but to release him. There will be people tracking him, as much as that is possible. But Ramos was a master at living off the grid; he spent years “in the wild” before Stuart GraBois found him back in 1988. So GraBois has carefully researched how the law in Pennsylvania applies to released sex offenders.

  Even though Ramos was already behind bars for a decade before Megan Kanka’s murder brought Megan’s Law to Pennsylvania in 1996, he remains subject to many of the law’s restrictions. When he leaves the State Correctional Institution at Dallas, Pennsylvania, he will be given the belongings that have survived twenty-six years of prison transfers around the state, a pair of jeans and a T-shirt if he needs them, and bus fare out of town. He’ll also be handed forms to fill out and send to the Pennsylvania State Police that register him as a lifetime Tier 3 sexual offender, because the charges for sodomizing then eight-year-old Joey Taylor were severe enough to meet that threshold. Ramos will give a DNA sample to be placed on file for reference. His name and photo will appear in the state’s online sex offender registry. A new Pennsylvania law, passed this year, will require him to confirm his whereabouts at the nearest State Police barracks four times a year, or if Ramos is homeless, every month. Ignoring these rules, or neglecting to register at all, would be a felony and could put him back in prison.

  If he leaves the state, he has forty-eight hours to tell Pennsylvania where he’s going. Ramos is required to report to his new home state, and is subject to their version of Megan’s Law. If he returns to his old haunts in New York, by Judge Kapnick’s ruling in the civil suit Stan Patz brought against Ramos in 2004, Ramos would automatically be classified a Level 3 offender. As in Pennsylvania, Level 3 means lifetime registry.

  All of this would make it a little easier to know where Ramos is, in the event of a future prosecution. As a former assistant U.S. attorney, GraBois knows how tough it will be to make the case against Pedro Hernandez. Ironically, the first time GraBois’s case against Jose Ramos might make it to court is when Pedro Hernandez’s lawyer uses it as his primary defense—to prove reasonable doubt for his client. GraBois has some concerns—about how the case against Ramos will be affected if this most recent chapter ends with no clear outcome, and how likely that scenario is.

  Since Hernandez’s arrest, GraBois has found himself thinking about all the mentally disturbed people who’ve been so drawn to this case, even now, decades later. He himself saw it recently a few years ago. Summoned one evening to Prince Street by Julie Patz’s terse call, GraBois arrived to find a forty-something man with a wide grin, a duffel bag stuffed full of his belongings, and a fervent belief he’d come home. There have been several false Etans over the years; Stan and Julie are resigned to it. But this was GraBois’s first, and it left an impression, long after the man had finally been convinced to leave, long after he’d been arrested months later, thousands of miles away, and had given the Phoenix police Stan Patz’s phone number as his family contact.

  For whatever reason, perhaps related to the public fascination with this case, it attracts people who have lost their grip on reality. After Pedro Hernandez’s defense attorney raised the prospect that his client was schizophrenic, GraBois had wanted to know more. He asked his social worker wife, Bonnie, about it, and she pointed him toward an Abnormal P
sychology textbook that still sat on her office bookshelf. She scanned the schizophrenia section carefully, stopping on one particular page to call it to his attention.

  “A striking characteristic of schizophrenic thought is the presence of delusions, firmly held beliefs that have no basis in reality,” it read.

  Further down the page was another paragraph that caught GraBois’s eye. “Delusions of sin and guilt: the belief that one has committed the unpardonable sin, or inflicted great harm on others. Patients may claim, for example, that they have killed their children.”

  That passage underlined GraBois’s biggest fear—that the search to bring Etan’s killer to justice after all these years would end with Hernandez found to be mentally incompetent to stand trial, or so crazy he’d take the rap even if he didn’t do it. Hernandez would spend the rest of his life locked away, an easy disposition to the toughest case GraBois has ever known.

  If Pedro Hernandez does prove to be Etan Patz’s killer, Stuart GraBois says he will be grateful it is finally over, satisfied that justice will finally be served. But no matter what, GraBois advises that everyone should continue to be vigilant about Jose Ramos’s whereabouts, and the whereabouts of others like him.

  Jose Antonio Ramos mugshot, May 2010.

  Acknowledgments

  Over the last five years and, really, much earlier than that, a lot of people have given me a hand… or a push… or a boot, advancing me along on my maiden voyage. There are far too many to name here, but I’m going to try.

  First and foremost, my undying gratitude goes to Stuart GraBois; my collaborator, my consultant, my cheerleader, and my inspiration. He always kept going, and he inspired me to do the same.

  And to Stan Patz, invaluable for everything from information and insight, from fact checking to photography, from encouragement to empathy on any given day. To Julie Patz, who is such a hero of mine, and Mary Galligan, who embodies girl power in this story. Thanks to Ari Patz, Lisa Helms, Kitty Brown, Bill Sillery, Denise Cealie, and so many others who lived through this and gave their time and thoughts. As I struggled to sift through thirty years of memories, I want to thank all those who added research and legal background; journalists like John Miller, Joanne Wasserman, Anna Quindlen, Richard Rein, David Blum, and Jerry Schmetterer; legal and investigative experts like Brian O’Dwyer, Jim Nauwens, Frank Carroll, Alicia Tejada, Patrick Eanniello, Owen Carrugher, Ian Weinstein, and Ken Javerbaum. My gratitude to the many folks at the New York FBI public information office who helped facilitate interviews: Jim Margolin, Christine Monaco, and Monica McLean. Thanks to Jack Allar, Paul Ott, Marylou Barton, Joe Massa, Gene Casasanta, Blaine Kuhn, Tim Reitz, Chris Braun, John Bowler, Carla Breen, Amazing Dave, Garrick Beck, and Joanee Freedom for adding to my reporting on events that took place out of New York City. Thanks to Bonnie GraBois for everything.

  I’m grateful to those who put the broadcast stories on the air that led to this book, both at ABC and CBS News. From ABC days, thanks to Rick Kaplan, Betsy West, Jay Schadler, Ray Lambiase, John Landi, Mark French, and Alison Hockenberry. At CBS, thanks to Jeff Fager, Patti Hassler, Mike Whitney, Vicki Mabrey, Rich Koppel, Elizabeth Pearson, and Sean Herbert. Thanks to Carole Cooper for her savvy and support.

  I’m also grateful to those in the publishing world who led me along. At Grand Central Publishing, thanks to publisher Jamie Raab and to Amy Einhorn for having faith in a first-timer, Deb Futter, and my editor, Mitch Hoffman, whose guidance, encouragement, and calm voice were especially appreciated. Thanks to the gracious Jimmy Franco, publicist extraordinaire, to Joe Finnerty, and to the tireless Kim Hoffman. My thanks also to Deborah Brodie, who helped at a critical moment, with some well-placed words of wisdom. Special thanks to my favorite literary midwife, my agent, Alice Martell.

  There were so many who weren’t part of the case but instead part of a circle of unflagging friendship. The producergirrrls: Nicole, Molly, Sarah, Shelagh, and Jeanmarie. Thanks to Marjorie, Trish, Beth, Rita, Terri, Kim, Suzanne, Julie H., Karyn, Rob and Christine, Ben and Antonia, Gwyn and Les, Barbara, Nikki, Deloris, Tom, Debbie H., Ben S., Jillian, and Amanda, who pointed me to the invaluable peer support of a writer’s workshop. With Charles in charge, along with the two other Lisas and the two Sallys; Vivian, Chaya, Ovie, Craig, Betty, Leslie, Paul, Margaret, Sharon, Marilyn, Patty, Kristine, Judy, Julie, Ellen, and Patricia—you gave me safe haven. Thanks to the Humanities Council at Princeton University and the Graduate School of Journalism at Columbia who offered me refuge. Thanks to chemo-babe Dee Dee, who both inspired me and gave extra-special support. Thanks to Gordon and Tania, who got me inside, and to Christine P., who got me online.

  Thanks to my big brother, who’s an expert in compassion. And my deepest gratitude to my parents, who always make me want to act the way I was raised.

  Special thanks to my family, who were there all along the way, even though so much of the time I wasn’t.

  And finally, to Jeca Taudte, my reader, researcher, organizer, editor, muse, sympathetic ear, cajoler and caregiver, midnight oil-burner and shrink. Thank goodness. Thank you.

  ACCLAIM FOR AFTER ETAN

  “In the first-ever book on this celebrated case, Lisa Cohen finally gives us the answers behind the most vexing child kidnapping since the Lindbergh Baby. It’s a harrowing portrait of a family’s grief and an engrossing, detective story. A powerful lesson in humanity tested and triumphant.”

  —Nicholas Pileggi

  “Heart-wrenching… As true crime, this tragic tale is a standout.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Remarkable reporting… After Etan has the gripping realism of Law & Order, intensified by the knowledge that this harrowing case study is true.”

  —Julie Salamon, author of Facing the Wind and Hospital

  “[A] gripping account.”

  —People

  “This powerful work plunged me back in time to a moment that haunts me to this day. The book left me, in the present, cheering on its heroes. An ongoing page-turner so full of plot twists, it often reads like a fictional thriller. Except it’s all true.”

  —Liz Smith

  “Fascinating, engaging, and well-written.”

  —Paul Haggis, Academy Award–winning director/screenwriter of Million Dollar Baby, Crash, and Flags of Our Fathers

  “An engrossing account of a watershed missing-child case… Cohen covers the story from all angles and keeps the main thread of the investigation clear, even while sharing some of its most intriguing left turns and red herrings… A masterful combination of deep human interest and detailed criminal investigation.”

  —Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

  “When our son, Adam, was abducted in 1981, my wife, Revé, and I felt no one could really understand what we were going through. Then we met Julie and Stan Patz and found that we were members of a horrible but exclusive club. Their courage inspired us then and inspires us now. Every American needs to know Etan’s story.”

  —John Walsh

  “An outstanding writer with a compelling story… The book gives a better understanding of how the Patz case resulted in the creation of many law enforcement child safety programs.”

  —Joe Occhipinti, founder & executive director, National Police Defense Foundation

  “A powerful, extraordinary, true story about Etan, his courageous family, the drifter who changed their lives forever, and one tireless, tenacious prosecutor.”

  —Ernie Allen, president & CEO, National Center for Missing & Exploited Children

  “Lisa Cohen finally unravels a complex and tangled mystery… The vivid descriptions and the incredible detail make you feel like you are there every step of the way. The book pulls you in. It can be painful at times and still, you can’t put the book down.”

  —John Miller, CBS News Senior Correspondent; former Assistant Director, FBI

  “Lisa R. Cohen has written an unqualified masterpiece. She tells the tale of Etan Patz with such heart and soul that you have no doubt this is
a story she was destined to tell… You don’t want to miss AFTER ETAN.”

  —Gregg Olsen, author

  Etan with Julie Patz in their home, at his sixth birthday party, October 29, 1978. (©PATZ IMAGING)

  Etan perches on a ladder to approximate the proper height as he sits in for a professional model yet to arrive at his father’s photography studio. Stan Patz is later horrified to learn some found the photo salacious and suspicious.(©PATZ IMAGING)

  In the days immediately following Etan’s disappearance, volunteers post makeshift fliers on every available surface in downtown Manhattan. (ABC NEWS/PRIMETIME)

  On Memorial Day weekend 1979, the NYPD turn the Patz loft into a command post. (ABC NEWS/PRIMETIME)

  Four months into the case, Stan Patz’s camera catches Julie in a rare joyful moment with her three-year-old son Ari on their SoHo fire escape. Strangers would approach her when she smiled in public and accuse her of not being appropriately mournful. (©PATZ IMAGING)

  Stan Patz constantly uses his home darkroom to print Etan’s image for the police, press, and searchers. April 1980. (CBS NEWS ARCHIVES)

  In the first year of his search, NYPD detective Bill Butler walks the SoHo streets most mornings, like this one in April 1980, retracing Etan’s path in hopes of new witnesses or clues. (CBS NEWS ARCHIVES)

  On the one-year anniversary of Etan’s disappearance, Stan Patz came across this tribute around the corner from the Patzes’ SoHo loft. (©PATZ IMAGING)