All the Dying Children

by James Halpin

  “So instead you’re going to hear from people who spoke to Mr. Gillespie. You’re going to see a note Mr. Gillespie allegedly wrote. But we’re not going to have the ability to question Mr. Gillespie’s statement. And that’s very important in this case. Because I urge you to think about the final days of Mr. Gillespie’s life. Think about his situation.

  “When the police first showed up at his house, Mr. Gillespie was their prime suspect. They searched his house and seized his computer, camera equipment, and external hard drives. We now know that those items contained irrefutable evidence that Mr. Gillespie molested the children in this case.”

  Here Cooper paused, letting the jury think on that and hopefully begin seeing Gillespie as the real villain.

  “He was a child pornographer who was caught. He knew he was going down. So he did what criminals do when they get caught: he tried to cut a deal. He gave police information about a legitimate business partner he had — Dr. Marvin Radcliffe — in a desperate attempt to shave some time off the decades-long prison sentence he knew he was facing.

  “Well, the police swallowed the story hook, line, and sinker. But I’m hoping you’ll be smarter than that. I’d urge you to use your common sense and to look at the evidence. Because what you don’t hear is just as important as what you do. You are not going to see any recordings of Dr. Radcliffe molesting children. You are not going to hear anyone accusing him of committing such vile acts. In fact, Dr. Radcliffe is not even charged with sexually abusing the children or with anything related to child pornography. He’s not charged with that because the Commonwealth knows it doesn’t have the evidence to prove it.

  “They found his computer. They searched his computer. They didn’t find anything on it.

  “And if he wasn’t involved in Mr. Gillespie’s child pornography operation, I would ask you to consider why Dr. Radcliffe would work with him to hurt these children. He had no dog in this fight. Of course he wanted to help his patient, Mr. Gillespie, but he wasn’t going to kill for him.

  “Now, we don’t dispute that Dr. Radcliffe was a business partner with Mr. Gillespie. Mr. Gillespie was a troubled man and had been seeing Dr. Radcliffe for years. When Mr. Gillespie needed some help creating a white-noise app he wanted to market, Dr. Radcliffe offered to help him get the business started. He was trying to help Mr. Gillespie, who he knew was a troubled soul. But Dr. Radcliffe had no knowledge of any subliminal messages that Mr. Gillespie put in the app, and he certainly never counseled these kids to harm themselves.

  “Dr. Radcliffe is a respected member of this community who has spent a lifetime helping people. Now the Commonwealth is asking you to throw all his good work away solely on the word of a caught pedophile. I urge you to use your common sense and ask yourselves who is more believable. Ask yourselves if the Commonwealth has proved Dr. Radcliffe guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. I think when you do that, the only logical answer is that he is not guilty.”

  Cooper’s heels clicked across the tile floor as she made her way back to the defense table. Judge Perry nodded.

  “Thank you, Ms. Cooper,” he said, using an index finger to push up his glasses. “The prosecution may call its first witness.”

  * * *

  The prosecution’s case was entirely circumstantial. A forensic analysis of Dr. Radcliffe’s computer and drives determined they were so mangled the data was unrecoverable. There was no evidence of him possessing child pornography, so Phillips’ hope of re-filing that charge was dashed. But the police had gotten to Gillespie first, and they still had his computer. It contained numerous emails exchanges between Dr. Radcliffe and Gillespie. The tone of the messages was cryptic, but to Phillips that was almost as good as an outright admission. This way he could argue they were intentionally being vague in their discussions to avoid creating a paper trail documenting the conspiracy.

  Phillips also had the paper records from Dr. Radcliffe’s office, which he had not had time to destroy. The records proved Dr. Radcliffe had been treating all four of the victims. Even better, they also showed he had instructed every one of them to use Soma. But to Phillips, the fatal blow was brief annotations in the records Dr. Radcliffe had scribbled as reminders. In Justin Gonzalez’s file, there was a handwritten note in the margin saying, “JG in good spirits. Bring up secret.” The page containing the note was dated two weeks before his death. Emma Nguyen’s file contained a similar note, showing Dr. Radcliffe planned to talk to her about what would happen if her father found out about the baby.

  After running through his police and forensic expert witnesses, Phillips called Daly to the stand, hoping the jury would see his encounter with Dr. Radcliffe as a tacit admission of guilt.

  Hearing his name, Daly slowly began walking to the witness stand, aware that the creaking of his leather shoes was now the focus of everyone in the courtroom. He reached the stand and turned to the clerk, raising his right hand to be sworn in before taking the witness chair.

  “Good morning,” Phillips began. “Can you state your name for the record?”

  “I’m Erik Daly.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m forty-four.”

  “How are you employed?”

  “I’m a reporter for the Wilkes-Barre Observer.”

  “Were you involved in the Observer’s coverage of the deaths of Justin Gonzalez, Kimberly Foster, Emma Nguyen, and David Kowalski?” Phillips asked.

  “I was. It was my story for the first few weeks,” Daly said.

  “Why were you removed from the story?”

  “My editor, John Richardson, became concerned that I could have a conflict of interest.”

  “And why was that?”

  Daly shifted his weight in the chair, taking a moment to think about where to begin.

  “Through my reporting, I discovered that the victims were all using an app called Soma,” Daly said. “It was a white-noise app that was supposed to help people sleep. At first, when I listened to it, I just heard static. But one day I got distracted with work and left it running for a while. When I came back to it, I could hear something in the background. Something other than static.

  “I called a friend, George Timmons, who has some high-tech stereo equipment. He was able to isolate the sound, and we discovered it was a voice,” Daly said.

  “What was it saying?”

  “They’re watching me always. Nothing can make it stop. End it now. Before they find out,” Daly said.

  “So why was that a conflict for you?” Phillips asked.

  “Well, that alone wasn’t,” Daly said. “But through my reporting, I also discovered that the app was being sold by a company called Sleep Song, LLC, which lists Dr. Radcliffe as the president and Mr. Gillespie as the vice president. When I discovered that, I brought it to the attention of the police. John Richardson felt that at that point I could potentially be called as a prosecution witness, so he wanted to ensure the Observer’s coverage could not be perceived as biased.”

  “I see,” Phillips said, putting on a thoughtful expression. “During the course of this reporting, did anything unusual happen? Did anyone contact you about the story?”

  “Probably about a week after I started researching the story I got an anonymous note,” Daly said.

  Phillips gestured to an assistant to flip on a projector to display the note for the jury to see: “MR. DALY: YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO THE CURIOUS CAT, DON’T YOU? BE VERY CAREFUL.”

  “Is this the note?” he asked.

  “It is.”

  “Did anything about this message stick out to you at the time?”

  “At the time, no,” Daly said. “But about a week and a half after I got the note, I went to Dr. Radcliffe’s office to ask him about Soma. That’s when he threatened me.”

  Cooper leaped from her seat like she’d been stung by a hornet.

  “Objection to the character
ization, your honor,” she said.

  “Sustained,” Perry said, turning to Daly. “Please just describe specifically what happened, Mr. Daly.”

  “Yes, your honor,” Daly said.

  “What did Dr. Radcliffe say to you?” Phillips asked.

  “He reminded me that I have a daughter and said I should be more careful,” Daly said. “He warned — said — that I could never know when someone might throw a firebomb through our window. He said, ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’”

  “And did the mention of a firebomb have any special significance to you?”

  “About a week and a half before that conversation, my house was destroyed in a fire. Someone threw a Molotov cocktail through the front window,” Daly said.

  Phillips nodded his head and turned to his notes, pausing for a moment to let the jury absorb the testimony.

  “I see. And were you still working on the story on April 9, 2018?” Phillips asked presently.

  “That was after I was taken off it,” Daly said.

  “But you were involved in an incident on that date, correct?”

  “I was,” Daly said.

  “What happened on that day?”

  “I received a tip that Dr. Radcliffe and Mr. Gillespie were going to be arrested in connection with the cluster of teen suicides,” Daly said.

  “And what did you do?” Phillips asked.

  “Well, since I was off the story, another reporter, Joe Reed, was assigned to go to Magistrate Brian Holland’s office to cover the perp walk,” Daly said. “I decided to go and watch simply because I had been on the story so long I wanted to see it through.”

  “Did you go to the arraignment?” Phillips asked.

  “No. As I was leaving, I realized I might be able to get video of Mr. Gillespie’s arrest because I already knew where he lived,” Daly said. “So I headed up to his house in Pittston.”

  “What happened there?”

  “Well, apparently Mr. Gillespie knew something was going down, and he spotted me out on the street in my car. He pulled a gun on me and forced me into his house,” Daly said.

  “Was anyone else there?”

  “Not inside the house. But as he was forcing me inside the police showed up to make the arrest. They saw I was being held hostage and surrounded the house.”

  “What happened during the standoff?”

  “Mr. Gillespie was panicking and volatile. Like a trapped animal. At first, he didn’t say much. But I was able to get him talking and he eventually told me about the operation he and Dr. Radcliffe were running.”

  “Objection, your honor,” Cooper shot out of her seat. “Mr. Gillespie never testified about this alleged conspiracy. Allowing someone else to provide hearsay testimony without the defense having the ability to cross-examine Mr. Gillespie violates the Confrontation Clause.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Perry said.

  Phillips skimmed his notes for a moment and then picked them up, tapping the edge of the papers on the lectern.

  “Thank you. No further questions,” he said.

  The district attorney marched back to the prosecution table. Cooper was already rising from her seat when Judge Perry turned the cross-examination over to her.

  “Good morning,” she smiled at Daly. To the jury, her face was the picture of cordiality. It bore no hint of malice. Nothing about her pleasant smile belied what was really happening in the courtroom at that moment.

  “Good morning,” Daly replied.

  “Do we know each other?”

  “Yes, we do,” Daly said.

  “How is that?”

  “I’ve interviewed you in the past. For the Observer.”

  “So just so the jury understands, how would you characterize our relationship?” Cooper asked.

  “I would say we are professionally acquainted,” Daly said. “We know each other through work.”

  “So we’re not friends?” she asked, flashing a feigned look of hurt at the jury.

  “Well, I think we are on Facebook,” Daly smiled back.

  “Fair enough. So now, Mr. Daly, if we could back up a bit to your earlier testimony, did you say that you learned about the arrests of Dr. Radcliffe and Mr. Gillespie from a tip?” Cooper asked.

  “That’s correct,” Daly said.

  “And what was the source of this tip?”

  “I’m afraid that’s confidential,” Daly said, adjusting in his seat.

  “It was a confidential source who provided you with this information?” Cooper asked.

  “It was,” Daly said.

  “Well, let’s try it this way then. Was it a representative of the Luzerne County District Attorney’s Office?”

  “Objection, your honor,” Phillips shot out of his seat, trying his best to wear a look of indignation on his face. “There has been no testimony to suggest there was a leak from my office, and I think the implication is inappropriate. It’s an obvious ploy to garner sympathy from the jury. Furthermore, I’m sure Ms. Cooper is well aware that journalists cannot be compelled to reveal confidential sources under the Pennsylvania shield law.”

  Judge Perry gave both attorneys a look that warned them to cut back on the theatrics.

  “Sustained,” he said. “Move along, counselor.”

  “Yes, your honor,” Cooper said.

  She’d lost the argument, but she knew she would. More important to her was the jury hearing that the prosecution could be up to some underhanded tactics.

  “Okay, Mr. Daly. So you began reporting on this case after Kimberly Foster’s death on March 22, 2018, is that correct?” Cooper asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “But you said you were removed after making the discovery about Soma?”

  “Yes. John Richardson wanted to make sure there wasn’t the appearance of a conflict of interest,” Daly said.

  “But isn’t it true that you were aware of a potential conflict of interest even before learning about the message in Soma?”

  “Well, there was some concern about that because of an earlier incident. But that was never definitively linked to this case, so I was able to stay on the story.”

  “That ‘incident’ as you describe it was actually the fire you previously testified took place at your house, isn’t that correct?” Cooper asked.

  “That’s right,” Daly said. “Someone firebombed my house.”

  “Objection,” Cooper turned to the judge. “I ask that answer be stricken as unresponsive.”

  “You asked the question, Ms. Cooper,” Judge Perry said, his mouth curling into a wry smile.

  “Yes, your honor,” she said, facing back to Daly. “In fact, you and your daughter barely escaped with your lives, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And isn’t it true that was because you were too drunk to hear the smoke alarm?” Cooper asked, her soft voice not betraying the slightest hint of animosity.

  “What? No. I … uh … I mean, I had a few drinks that night. But I heard the … whatever you want to call it — the device — come through the window. I heard the smoke alarm going off,” Daly stammered out his answer, caught off guard by the shift in questioning.

  “Were you aware the fire department recovered at least ten opened beer bottles from the area of your kitchen table?” Cooper asked.

  “I … no, I wasn’t.”

  “Did you drink all those beers by yourself?”

  “I guess I must have.”

  “Now, March 29, 2018, was a Thursday, was it not?”

  “I believe it was,” Daly said, trying to contain his growing anger.

  “Is it commonplace for you to drink nearly a twelve pack of beer on a weeknight?” Cooper asked.

  “I don’t know if I would say it’s ‘commonplace,’ but I guess it does happen,” Daly said. “Penn State w
as playing Utah that night in the NIT Championship.”

  “Fair to say you’re a heavy drinker, are you not?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “The kind of guy who throws back at least ten beers and then has no trouble waking up at 1:30 a.m.?”

  “It would seem so,” Daly said.

  “So let me ask you, Mr. Daly, do you ever drink at work?” Cooper asked.

  “Never. What I do on my personal time is my business. But when I’m at work, I am fully at work,” Daly said.

  “I see. And what about the afternoon of April 9, 2018 — the day of the arrests. Had you been drinking that day?” Cooper asked.

  “No. I was at work all day before going to Mr. Gillespie’s house. I remember what he said.”

  “Is that right?” she said, eyes narrowing. “You were admitted to Geisinger Wyoming Valley Medical Center to be treated for a gunshot wound after this incident, correct?”

  “Yes. I was shot in the stomach during the police raid.”

  “And isn’t it true that you were diagnosed at the hospital with transient global amnesia?”

  “That’s right,” Daly said. He was finding it harder with each question to conceal his rage.

  “In fact, you told Dr. Maria Torres that you couldn’t remember how you came to be in the hospital, right?” Cooper asked.

  “At the time, I could not. But my memory came back. Quickly,” Daly added, sheepishly.

  “But you admit that you didn’t record this interview you supposedly conducted with Dr. Radcliffe, correct?”

  “I wouldn’t describe it as an interview so much as a brief conversation, but no, I didn’t record it,” Daly said.

  “And you didn’t take any notes?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then I guess we’ll just have to take your word for what happened,” Cooper said. “No further questions.”