by Marcia Clark
“Yes, they can do that. You have no right to privacy in a jail cell. And no, you didn’t say anything bad. You’re okay. But don’t ever forget: you can’t trust anyone. Always remember, you have to act as though someone’s watching.”
We talked for a little while longer, but I had to cut our visit short. I got a text from Emmons. Tiegan had agreed to talk again, and they were going to start the interview in half an hour. I decided not to tell Cassie. I said I had to get to court and that I’d be back to see her tomorrow.
I was alone in the observation room this time. Dale was tied up in a meeting. Tiegan and Fred were already seated at the table; Rusty Templeton sat across from them. A few seconds later, Emmons glided in and took the seat next to him. They read Tiegan her rights again, and she waived them.
Emmons led off by telling her they’d found some new evidence that made things “look pretty bad for her.” He gave her a semisympathetic look. “So we wanted to give you the chance to explain it.”
Fred held up his hand like a stop sign. “Again, I want it clear for the record that my client is doing this against my advice.”
Emmons nodded without looking at him. He held up the photo of Tiegan and her friend standing in front of the bookcase. She glanced at it, then looked back at Emmons. “Do you remember when this photo was taken?”
Tiegan hesitated for a moment. “In February, I believe.”
“Of this year?” Emmons asked. Tiegan nodded. “When, exactly? It’s April third now. Would you say it was around February twentieth?”
Tiegan shook her head. “No, later. Probably toward the end of the month.”
“Who’s the other woman?”
“Shana Pohler. She’s a friend from college.”
He pointed to the knife displayed on the bookshelf behind them. “Where’d you get that?”
Tiegan blanched. After a long pause, she said, “India. I went there after I got my teaching credential, to celebrate. But it’s—”
Emmons pulled out the photograph taken during the search and pointed to the bookshelf where the knife had been—where there were now only books. “So it was there about a week or less before the murders. But it disappeared after the murders. Want to tell us where it went?”
Tiegan’s face got even paler. She stared at the photograph, her expression frozen. “I meant to tell you. I—I just forgot. Cassie took it. She stole it from me.”
The detectives watched her in silence for a few seconds. Then Rusty said, “So you’re saying Cassie planned this in advance? She stole the knife, because she was planning to use it to kill her family?” His tone was even, but there was a hint of incredulousness.
Tiegan raked her free hand through her hair, her expression confused, desperate. “Yes! Or, wait . . . no, maybe not. I don’t know.” Tiegan leaned forward, her elbow on the table, and dropped her head into her hand. “I know I should’ve told you this before. But the thing is, she used to steal things from me all the time. A comb, a pair of earrings. Once, she even took a sweater.” She let her hand fall on the table, palm up. “So I don’t know if she planned it. Maybe she did, but maybe she didn’t. At least not when she took the knife.”
Emmons didn’t try to hide his skepticism. “And that never bothered you? You just let her keep stealing from you?”
Tiegan’s voice was now ragged, bitter. “When I told her I knew that she was taking my things, she said it made her feel closer to me. Like a part of me was always with her.” She shook her head. “And I just thought it was kind of sweet.”
Emmons studied her for a beat. “You thought stealing a knife—a dagger—was sweet?”
“No! I didn’t realize she’d stolen it until that night, when she . . . when she gave it to me.”
“You have her over to your apartment often?” Rusty asked.
Tiegan looked haggard. “A couple of times a week.”
Emmons watched her closely. “What about the week of the murders? Did she come over then, too?” Tiegan nodded. “You got anyone who can verify that?”
Tiegan stared at him, then threw her head back and made a grinding sound that seemed to come from deep in her core. “Oh God!” She shoved her fingers into her hair. “Why can’t you see it? She lied about . . . everything! She set me up. I’ve been thinking all along, why wouldn’t she tell me they were molesting her if it were true? She told me every little thing that happened every single goddamn day. Every ugly thing Abel said, every time Paula stuck up for him. Why would she tell me all that but not that her brother and her father were molesting her? Don’t you see? It’s all a bunch of lies! No one molested her!”
Emmons did not look impressed. “Maybe she didn’t tell you because she was afraid you wouldn’t believe her. You should know as well as I do that there’re a lot of reasons why victims don’t report.”
Tiegan sat back in her chair, looking broken, defeated. Then, suddenly, she sat up. “Wait! Did she tell you Abel was blackmailing her?”
This was a new wrinkle. I felt my mouth go dry as I leaned forward and studied Tiegan. She was straining toward Emmons, her eyes fixed on his.
Rusty tried to sound casual, but I could feel the intensity in his voice as he spoke. “No. Why don’t you tell us about that?”
Tiegan faced him, her speech rapid and pressured. “She told me she couldn’t take it anymore. That Abel had found out about us, and he was making her do . . . horrible things.”
“When was this?” Emmons asked.
Tiegan paused, stared at the table for a moment, then said, “It was just a few days before the murders.”
Rusty’s eyes hadn’t left her face. “What was he making her do?”
Tiegan swallowed and shook her head. “I don’t know; she wouldn’t tell me.” She rubbed her chained hand with her free hand so hard it left angry red streaks. “She said she couldn’t live there anymore, that we had to run away together.”
I stared through the glass at Tiegan. She was clearly too unhinged to realize that she’d just put the noose around her own neck. Cassie had told Tiegan about getting blackmailed, and a few days later, Abel wound up dead. I’d wondered about Tiegan’s motive from the first moment Cassie told me Tiegan was the killer. It wasn’t that I couldn’t believe she’d get crazed at the thought of what Abel and Cassie’s father were doing to her. But it’d been a stretch. Now I understood.
Rusty tapped a thick finger on the table for a moment. “When she said she wanted to run away with you, what’d you say?”
Tiegan seemed to vibrate with agitation. She looked at him as though he were crazy. “I said no, of course. How could I possibly let her live with me? That’s insane.”
“Did she tell you what Abel had on you?” Emmons asked.
“She said it wasn’t really a big deal, that all he saw was a text she’d sent me, saying that she missed me. I couldn’t tell if that was true or not. But it didn’t matter. I had to put some distance between us, so I told her we had to back off and that she probably shouldn’t contact me for a while.”
Emmons had a skeptical expression. “How’d she take that?”
Tiegan’s knee bounced under the table, making her ankle chains rattle. “Badly. At first, she said to forget about it, that she could handle him. But when I told her I meant it and we couldn’t see each other for a while, she fell apart.”
“Meaning what exactly?” Rusty asked. “What did she do?”
“She cried, then she yelled at me, called me names.”
Rusty raised an eyebrow. “She called you names. That’s it? She didn’t threaten you, get violent with you?”
Tiegan shook her head, then looked from Emmons to Rusty, her expression frantic. “But don’t you get it? That’s why it all happened! She killed Abel because he was the reason we couldn’t be together! She did it to be with me!”
The room was silent for a long moment. When Rusty spoke, his tone was casual, but I could hear the underlying intensity. “You said Cassie used to tell you everything?” Tiegan nodded. “Then I guess you knew
her folks were celebrating their anniversary that night.”
Tiegan looked numb, tired. “I think she may have mentioned that.”
Rusty nodded. “Then you knew her parents were supposed to be staying in a hotel that night.”
Tiegan stared, openmouthed, as the import of what he’d said sank in. She leaned across the table, her face inches from Rusty’s. “No. She never told me that! You’ve got to believe me!” Tiegan turned to Emmons. “Why don’t you get it? It’s so obvious! She had to get rid of Abel so she could come live with me!”
Rusty tilted his head toward her, and his voice was hard. “But you were telling her all along that you couldn’t live together, so why’d she all of a sudden decide she needed to kill that boy? And she wouldn’t be ruined if people found out about you two.” He faced Tiegan and poked a finger at her. “You would. If Abel talked, you wouldn’t just lose your whole career, you’d go to prison. Know what I call that? Motive. One of the best I’ve ever seen.” His eyes bored into hers. “You killed Abel, and then you had to kill the parents. And you left Cassie there to take the fall.”
Tiegan shook her head vigorously. “No! No! You’re wrong!” She yanked the hand that was chained to the table. “She did it! She’s the one!”
The detectives stood up and motioned for the unis to come get her. As they walked out, Tiegan threw her head back and began to scream.
FIFTY-FOUR
Tiegan’s screams were still ringing in the distance as I hurried out to intercept the cops. I caught up with them at the elevator. “You’ve got to cut Cassie loose.”
Rusty gave me a weary look. “No, we don’t.”
“Come on, are you kidding me? You’ve got your killer. You can’t hold Cassie.”
“Sure we can.” Rusty turned to hit the up button. “Far as I’m concerned, those two might’ve cooked it all up together. And even if your girl isn’t the killer, she’s at least an accessory after the fact.”
I folded my arms. “Really? You saw that video of them in jail. Do they seem like they ‘cooked up’ anything together?” Not that crime partners don’t turn on each other. They do. All the time. It’s actually a shocker when they don’t. But there was nothing about either Cassie’s or Tiegan’s behavior that fit the picture of co-conspirators.
They’d never be able to sell that theory, and we both knew it. That meant they had to pick a killer, and they’d need one of them to testify against the other. Tiegan was looking better and better as the perpetrator. But Cassie wasn’t completely in the clear. So I had to strike now, while the tide was turning in my favor, and get them to commit to a deal for Cassie’s testimony.
Rusty leaned back and rubbed his chin. Behind him, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened, but he ignored it. “I take it your client’s been telling you Tiegan did it.” I nodded. “What about that blackmail bit?”
I looked him in the eye and lied my head off. “She confirms that, too.” Or more accurately, she would when I got done with her.
Rusty gave me a narrow-eyed look. “You got any witnesses to back that up?”
Cassie might be able to help us out there. But I had no way of knowing for sure. I was really stepping out on a limb now. What the hell; in for a penny . . . “Yeah, I do.” Rusty started to speak, but I knew what he was about to ask. “And yes, she’ll testify.”
Emmons and Rusty exchanged a look. Rusty hit the up button again. “Tell you what, you put together those witness statements about the blackmail and get me a summary of what Cassie’s gonna say. If I like it, I’ll take it to the DA.”
Shit. I’d have to move fast. “Nothing’s in writing, so I’ll have to go back out and talk to everyone again. Give me a week.”
The elevator dinged, and as the doors opened, Rusty stuck out a hand and grabbed one of them. “You’ve got forty-eight hours.” He and Emmons stepped inside. “If we’ve gotta change horses, we need to do it fast.”
I got it. The longer it took to resolve this, the worse they’d look. But I was really up against it now. I put on a confident smile. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
The moment the doors closed, I took off at a gallop and didn’t stop till I got to the car. I grabbed my cell phone and punched in Alex’s number. I was still winded when he answered. “We’ve got maybe forty-eight hours to dig up some witnesses.” I gave him a brief sketch of Tiegan’s statement and what we needed to do. “I’m going to go see Cassie right now.”
I ended the call and headed to Twin Towers.
“Was Abel blackmailing you?” I leaned across the counter, the phone clutched in my hand so tightly it made my fingers hurt.
Cassie shook her head. “No. She’s lying. And she’s full of shit that I didn’t tell her about them molesting me. I totally told her that!”
Whether she’d told Tiegan about being molested wasn’t our problem. “Cassie, you need to focus. Do you want to get out of here?” She nodded. “Then tell me what was going on with Abel.”
Cassie frowned and stared down at the counter. Her hair had grown out a little. It now reached her chin. She tucked it back behind an ear. I was about to prompt her again when she finally said, “He saw our texts.”
“What did they say?”
“I said that I loved her tattoo. I thought it was so sexy.” Cassie refused to meet my eyes. “And I—I sent her the photo I’d taken of her the weekend before. She was in bed, all wrapped up in a sheet.”
“Did Tiegan text you back?”
Cassie nodded. “She said it was a great night.”
I noticed that Cassie had a guilty look on her face. “What’s wrong?”
She hung her head. “I messed up. Tiegan always told me to delete our texts. But I didn’t.” Cassie met my eyes, her expression pleading. “I needed them! They kept me from going crazy.”
“So how did Abel get those texts?”
Cassie hung her head again. “He took screenshots of them on his phone.”
“What happened to the screenshots?”
Cassie swallowed. “I deleted them that night, right after I called the police.” Cassie bit her lip. “I was just trying to protect her!”
“And those texts, that photo of Tiegan? Did you delete those, too?”
Cassie nodded. “The second Abel showed me the screen shots.”
“I don’t suppose you backed up any of the texts or photos—”
She wore a disgusted expression. “No. It was bad enough I didn’t delete them to begin with.”
It figured. Having physical evidence right there at my fingertips would’ve been too easy. Still, I’d check with Alex. Maybe Abel backed up his screenshots in the cloud or . . . something. Tiegan had claimed the text just said that Cassie missed her. Pretty innocuous. I’d wondered why Tiegan would get so worked up about that. What would it prove? But what Cassie had just described was damning evidence. And I definitely believed Cassie’s description. Abel couldn’t have done much with a text that just said Cassie missed Tiegan. No wonder Tiegan had given the cops that watered-down version of the blackmail material. Her motive had just gotten ten times stronger. If only Cassie hadn’t deleted everything . . . I sighed. That brought me to my next point: possible witnesses. “What did Abel make you do?”
She told me. It was much worse than I’d expected. When it came to sheer nastiness, Abel never failed to disappoint. I tried to get details. The cops weren’t going to take Cassie’s word for this. I needed witnesses. But Cassie had almost no memory beyond the general outlines. So we had very little to work with and just forty-eight hours to deliver. Perfect. Just once, I wished something could fall into my lap.
I waited to call Alex until I got into my car. I told him what I’d learned from Cassie. “Can you see if Abel backed up those screenshots to the cloud?”
He gave an impatient huff. “Does Beyoncé rock the casbah? Of course. Piece of cake.”
“That’s only the beginning. How long would it take you to set up interviews with the kids in Cassie’s classes?” We’d already s
poken to her friends and Abel’s friends. None of them had said a word about the incidents Cassie had described. Rain and Tawny in particular surely would’ve said something about it if they’d had solid information. In any case, I could call them and find out pretty quickly. But what would be better than friends—who might lie for Cassie—were witnesses who didn’t know her well. If I wanted this deal to happen, I had to do everything I could to sweeten our side of it.
“I’ve got a bunch of cell phone numbers. I can probably line them up by Friday.”
It was only Wednesday. By Friday, they might decide to pull the deal. “Not good enough. It’s got to be tomorrow. Split it up with Michelle. I’m on my way back. I’ll pitch in when I get there.”
I was going to find platinum backup for Cassie’s story if I had to squeeze every kid in that school.
FIFTY-FIVE
The next day, Alex and I rolled into Glendale at two p.m. With all three of us working the phones, we’d managed to set up thirty-four interviews for today and Friday morning. And Alex had checked the cloud last night: Abel hadn’t backed up anything. So these interviews were a make-or-break situation. If we didn’t score some awesome witnesses, Cassie’s deal would go down the shitter.
Alex had suggested we meet the students at the Starbucks near the school. That way, it’d be convenient for them, and we could bribe them with muffins and Grande lattes. Michelle hadn’t been wild about the idea. “They only get one latte, and no muffins. It’s gonna cost a fortune.”
I’d promised her we’d keep expenses to a minimum. But there was no way I’d cheap out if a couple of muffins bought us a good witness. When we got to the Starbucks, we found it fairly empty, so we were able to commandeer a couple of tables at the back. Shirley, our first interviewee, showed up ten minutes late. She wore black leggings and a knee-length sweatshirt. We had sixteen others stacked up after her, so I introduced myself and got right to it. “Before everything happened, when Abel and Cassie were still in school, did you hear any rumors or gossip about either of them?”