by James Halpin
But by that time, Celeste was already running down the marble stairs of the courthouse, dark streaks of mascara riding down teardrop streams flowing over her flushed cheeks.
* * *
Radcliffe watched her go with a contemptuous sneer on his face that did not go unnoticed by Judge Perry. The judge pounded his gavel on the bench to restore order among the murmuring, gossiping onlookers, until at last the commotion had settled. He laid the gavel down next to the sounding block and turned his attention to Radcliffe.
“Sir, I will not tolerate that kind of behavior in my courtroom,” Judge Perry said.
Radcliffe assumed a clinical air and offered his apologies.
“Your honor, I did not mean to offend anybody …” he began.
“Save it,” Judge Perry interjected. “I’ve been on this bench long enough to know passive-aggressive behavior when I see it. Try a stunt like that once more and I will hold you in contempt of court.”
“Yes, your honor,” Radcliffe said. “I apologize. May I please finish?”
“I think I’ve heard enough,” Judge Perry said, turning to Cooper. “Does the defense have anything else to offer?”
Cooper turned and briefly consulted with Radcliffe, then looked to the gallery. A woman who looked to be in her sixties stood up in the front row and waved. Cooper gestured for her to approach, and the woman walked uncertainly to the front of the courtroom. She had graying brown hair and wore a Navy blue ankle skirt with a light blouse and a pearl necklace. Cooper put a hand on her shoulder and leaned close to one ear. After a moment, the woman nodded and then stepped forward to the bench.
“Can you please identify yourself for the record?” Cooper asked.
“My name is Elizabeth Radcliffe. I’m Dr. Radcliffe’s wife.”
“And do you have a statement you would like to make on his behalf?”
“I do,” she said. “I have known Marvin for thirty-six years. During that time, he has been my partner, my travel companion, and my soulmate. We have visited far-off lands and had our ups and downs, as all couples do. He was always there for me. But not just me. He was also there for his community. Whether it was serving on the board of trustees for the community college or helping troubled youths here at the courthouse, he was always willing to invest his time to better this community. That’s what everybody always thought. That’s what I always thought.”
For a brief instant, she stumbled for words. Radcliffe turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow as if questioning where his wife was going with her statement. She continued on, ignoring her husband’s gaze.
“Then one day, I went into his study looking for him,” Elizabeth said. “He was gone, but his computer was still turned on. I went over to put it on sleep mode when something caught my eye. It was a file called ‘Soma.’ It just seemed unusual and got me thinking that I didn’t really know all that much about what Marvin was working on. I knew he was working on this case or that one, but I didn’t know what exactly he was up to all those long hours at work. So I opened the folder …”
Her voice briefly trailed off and Radcliffe tried cutting her off.
“Not another word,” Judge Perry said, stopping Radcliffe mid-syllable.
“I can’t even describe what I saw,” Elizabeth said. “It was awful. Like something out of a nightmare. The day I found it, I just couldn’t stop thinking about those poor children. I was up all that night, crying and thinking about those poor children. But I’m ashamed to say I never said anything about what I saw. Not even to Marvin. I guess I thought if I just ignored it, things could continue like normal.
“The day Marvin was arrested, he came storming in around lunchtime, asking if a reporter had called the house,” she said. “I told him no and he seemed relieved. He ran into the study and started collecting all of his computer stuff. I remember watching him and knowing right away what was going on. I didn’t even have to ask. He told me to give him a ride, and he guided me to a spot up near Larksville Mountain. He took the stuff into the woods and came back to the car a little while later without it. He didn’t say a word.
“I finally asked him what was going on to see what he would say. He mumbled something about his computer being a piece of you-know-what. He couldn’t even look me in the eye when he said it.”
People in the courtroom gallery sat in stunned silence for a moment as they digested the words. Radcliffe shifted his gaze from his wife to his loafers. His wife — his one remaining ally in life — had defected.
“Mrs. Radcliffe, am I to understand that you were the source of this tip regarding the location of the computer?” Judge Perry asked.
“I was,” Elizabeth said, holding her head high despite her flushing cheeks. “For a long time, I struggled with reconciling the loving husband I knew with the monster who would keep such things on his computer. But sitting in court here today, I know now, for certain, that they are the same person. I have never before seen such a cold heart as the one I witnessed today. So before he is sentenced, I just wanted to let you know what kind of a person you’re dealing with. He fooled me for thirty-six years.”
CHAPTER 29
Monday, September 2, 2019
12:22 p.m.
A light breeze lifted Daly’s sandy brown hair as he squinted in the bright afternoon sunlight radiating from a deep blue sky. In his hands, he carried a bouquet of red roses wrapped in cellophane and a new photo of Lauren.
He gazed across the green cemetery hills and marveled at the neat rows of gravestones protruding from the earth and extending outward in every direction, seeming to go on forever. So much death.
Daly crouched down next to the grave in front of him, a stone placed on a slight downhill slope near a large oak tree that had stood for centuries. The stone read:
Jessica Thompson Daly
Loving Wife and Mother
May 12, 1977 ~ Jan. 23, 2004
Daly placed the roses at the base of the stone, then kissed the tips of his fingers and touched them to it. He stared at the granite slab for a long while in silence before rising to his feet.
“It’s over, babe,” Daly said. “Judge Perry gave Dr. Radcliffe the max, up to twenty years. He’ll be in prison for most or all of the rest of his life.”
He took a long pause, scanning the cemetery before continuing.
“I took a lot of shit over this case,” he said. “The DA blamed me for tipping Dr. Radcliffe off. I didn’t mean to, but I guess I did. I mean, I was just trying to report the story. I needed to learn the truth. I needed to find out what was happening to those kids. I needed … redemption, I guess. I needed to make amends for what I’ve done. I know I can never make it up to you. I’m going to have to live with it for the rest of my life. But I just wanted you to know that I’m trying. I’m trying my best to live a good life.”
Daly dropped his gaze to his hands. He clutched his knuckles with white-tipped fingers, unsure how to say what he had come to say. Instead, he changed directions.
“Lauren’s doing really well. She finished her freshman year at Stanford, and I practically had to drag her back for a visit. She loves it out there, and she’s met a guy she really likes. Josh. He writes for the school paper, but apparently, he’s going to be an English teacher. Which is good news because I told Lauren she was forbidden to marry a journalist,” Daly said, his somber expression giving way to a brief smile.
“She wants me to meet him. I told her maybe I would go out for a visit in the fall. Thanksgiving, maybe. Then I could meet this guy and see what all the fuss is about.”
Daly again crouched down and reached out to touch the tombstone, feeling the cold, hard granite and getting no solace. For a moment he looked down and then looked back at the stone.
“I needed to tell you … I …” his voice trailed off. He slightly chuckled before continuing. “I don’t know why this is so hard. It’s been fiftee
n years. You’d think by now I would be able to get my shit together. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve met someone. A woman. Her name is Emily, and I like her. It’s not too serious yet, but I felt like I needed to tell you before it got serious. I just felt … weird, like I was cheating or something. I know you’d want me to be happy, but I just feel kind of guilty when I’m with her. So I felt like I needed to come clean and be honest with you. So there. The secret’s out.
“Anyway,” Daly continued, “I think you’d like her. She really reminds me of you, which is why I like her. And actually, Lauren’s meeting her today. So I guess that will be the real test.”
Daly reached for the bouquet of roses and pulled a single rose from the dozen, pricking his thumb on a thorn as he did so. He cursed and sucked at the pinhead-sized drop of blood on the tip of his thumb as he stood back up, feeling the blood rush through his numbing legs.
“I know you would understand,” he said. “Lauren’s been telling me for years that I need to get back in the game. I’m sure you would say the same thing. I just want to make sure you know it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I will always love you.”
Daly wiped the hint of a tear from the corner of his eye and began walking. The breeze felt good in the warm afternoon, and he found himself enjoying the walk across the cemetery. He made his way up a path lined with mausoleums and oversize family tombstones, then continued through a sea of uniform rows of granite and marble markers. Midway through one of the rows, near the base of an old maple tree, Daly stopped. For a long minute, he stared at a white marble tombstone. It was his first time seeing it, and it was a hard sight for him to behold. His wary eyes welled up as he took a step forward and laid the single rose at the base of the grave:
Kelly Duncan
Beloved Daughter
Taken Too Soon
Oct. 17, 1991 ~ Jan. 23, 2004
“I’m so sorry. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to hurt you,” Daly said, beginning to sob. “I have never stopped thinking about how one stupid decision changed so many lives. It keeps me up nights, thinking about how things could have been different. If I had just not been drinking … if I’d been a little more patient … you would still be here. Jessica would still be here. Your father wouldn’t be in prison. Both our families would still be families.”
Daly took a step back, suddenly conscious of how he looked. He glanced around but saw no one. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat before continuing.
“I don’t know what I expected here,” he said, suddenly feeling foolish. “I guess I just wanted to say sorry. I wanted to say I’m sorry for tearing your family apart. I’m sorry for being such a fuck up. I know your father never will, but I hope that wherever you are, you have been able to forgive me for what I did.”
* * *
Smoke from the barbecue rose into the sky in white curling spirals. The smell of grilling chicken filled the warm summer air. Daly stood at the grill, tending the chicken with oversize tongs as Robert Johnson’s “Me and the Devil Blues” riffed on the Amazon Echo.
He took a sip from a sweaty glass of iced tea and realized that for the first time in a long while, he felt truly contented. With the trial over, he felt like he could finally move forward and put a dark chapter of his life behind him. Nobody was ever charged with setting the fire, but Daly knew the person to blame was behind bars — at least for the time being. And the insurance money had finally come through, so he’d been able to buy a new house not too far from where he lived before. The house wasn’t as big as the one that burned, but with Lauren out of the house, Daly figured he could downsize a little.
Now, he looked across his yellow pine deck and was happy to see Lauren reclining on a lawn chair, engrossed in a conversation with Emily.
Daly had been nervous about their meeting. Lauren had been pushing for him to start dating again, but inside Daly always feared she would resent him for trying to replace her mother. That was a big part of why he never brought anyone else home, and it had taken a lot for him to get past his fear with Emily. But Daly could see that his fear had been misplaced. The two most important women in his life were becoming fast friends.
He turned back to the grill and used a brush to mop the chicken with thick, red barbecue sauce.
“Lauren, could you please grab me a plate?” Daly called out. “This is almost done.”
“Sure,” she said.
She got off the lounge chair, stepped inside for a minute and emerged with a large platter for the chicken. She carried it over to where Daly stood by the grill while Emily checked her phone.
“Not having a beer?” Lauren asked, handing Daly the platter.
“No. I’m giving it up,” Daly said.
“Really?” Lauren said with surprise. “What happened?”
“I just realized I don’t need it,” he said. “Besides, I need to save the money to pay for your college.”
“Ha ha. Well, I’m glad. I think it will be good for you,” Lauren said.
“So what do you think about Emily?” Daly asked, his tone growing conspiratorial.
“She’s really nice. She seems funny and smart. I like her a lot.”
“I’m glad. You know I want you to be comfortable. I don’t want you to think …”
“That you’re replacing Mom?” Lauren cut in.
“Something like that.”
“Dad, it’s been fifteen years. I’m not a child anymore and I don’t think you’re trying to replace Mom. I think you’re doing what you should be doing — and I know Mom would feel the same,” Lauren said.
“Thank you. I’m glad to hear you say that,” Daly said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a kiss on the forehead.
“Erik?” Emily called from the other side of the deck. She sat forward in her chair and lifted her sunglasses as she squinted to get a better look at her cellphone screen. “You’re going to want to see this. Apparently Marvin Radcliffe is dead.”
“What?” Daly put the tongs down next to his tea and walked with Lauren over to Emily.
“Jennifer Talmadge just posted a story to the Observer’s website,” Emily said, handing Daly her phone.
Daly put an arm around Lauren and held the phone between them so they could read the article.
WILKES-BARRE — The Kingston psychiatrist billed as the “suicide doctor” after being convicted of pressuring four teens to kill themselves was found dead at the Luzerne County Correctional Facility on Monday morning.
Marvin G. Radcliffe, 57, was found hanging in his cell around 4:30 a.m., Warden Tim Watson said.
“Correctional officers cut him down and attempted to perform life-saving measures,” Watson said. “Unfortunately, they were unable to revive him.”
Radcliffe was pronounced dead at Wilkes-Barre General Hospital at 5:23 a.m., he said.
The psychiatrist had been alone in his cell at the time of his death and no foul play is suspected, Watson said.
Radcliffe was convicted at trial last month of involuntary manslaughter over the deaths of four teens who killed themselves last year. On Friday, he was sentenced to serve up to 20 years in prison for the crimes.
Prosecutors say he and substitute teacher Vincent P. Gillespie, 28, were using the teens to produce child pornography and that they then convinced them to commit suicide to avoid detection.
That effort involved counseling sessions by Radcliffe as well as the creation of a white-noise app called Soma that contained subliminal messages, prosecutors say.
Gillespie was killed in a shootout with police in April 2018.
The case came to light in part because of the high-profile death of 15-year-old cheerleader Kimberly Foster, who shot herself in a live web video that went viral.
Reached for comment Monday morning, her father, Hanover Twp. resident Jack Foster, noted the irony of Radcliffe taking his o
wn life.
“I hope that at the end he was going through as much pain and suffering as he put my daughter through,” Foster said. “He’s a monster, in my book. Anyone who could do what he did to those children deserves a terrible death. I hope it hurt a lot, and now he can rot in hell.”
— 30 —
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As I came to find out, writing a novel in between working and taking care of the kids and walking the dogs and maintaining a house can be a daunting task. This novel took me countless hours spread out over a year and a half, and without my loving wife Jamie I never would have been able to finish it. So I have to express my profound thanks to her for distracting our sons at intervals and helping me find the time to make this happen. Being an author has been a dream of mine forever, and I absolutely could not have done it without her.
Throughout this process, I learned that writing a work of fiction is fraught with pitfalls. Without having reality as a guide, it’s all too easy to muddle the story. So I would also like to thank all the people who helped me find and fix issues ranging from plot inconsistencies and story organization to word choice and minor typos.
My mother and father, Janette and James P. Halpin Jr., were instrumental in helping with the formidable task of editing my manuscript. Of course, their help goes back a few decades and I would be remiss not to say how appreciative of all the love and support they’ve given me over the years, despite me often being a major pain in the ass.
I’d also like to thank my Gram, otherwise known as Roberta Holmes, for her support through the years and for helping me polish up this book. I’m so grateful she was able to give this novel a read and help to catch my many typos — especially knowing it was a bit gruesome for her tastes.
My wife’s good friend Kendra Diehl Koontz was also an enormous help and provided many valuable insights during the editing process. She helped me realize that even the slightest roll of the eyes can make a difference.
Finally, I’d like to thank veteran homicide prosecutor Jarrett J. Ferentino, a man who knows something about putting away real-life bad guys. Over the years, he’s worked to put away some of Luzerne County’s most notorious killers, so I feel extremely grateful that he was able to take the time to help me with the legal details in this book. Any errors in the legal aspects of this story are mine and mine alone.