I was back at work for the BCA. Maurice still didn’t like that I was so close to everything that happened with Mandy, but accepted that I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was just happy to be back.
Tony met me at the BCA office in St. Paul to discuss Al Bren-nan’s prosecution.
Al was pursuing a not guilty by reason of insanity plea. Apparently, his attorney had found a psychologist who supported this. I never liked this plea. It should be guilty by reason of insanity. If a person was murdered, they were no less dead because the killer was mentally ill. The truth was, people who took the insanity plea generally served more time in a locked facility than people who went the prison route. Still, I wanted to see this case called as it was. Al wasn’t insane. He was vile.
Tony paced back and forth, grumbling, “It pisses me off to see psychologists sell out to defense attorneys. Where are their ethics?” He tossed Al’s psychological assessment on the desk in front of me. “This guy claims Al’s a schizophrenic who has command hallucinations that tell him to harm others. Al Brennan is no more schizophrenic than you or me.” Tony sarcastically added, “You, anyway. It’s all bullshit. Now we need to find a therapist who can see through this crap.”
“I know someone who can. Dr. Nicole Lenz.”
Tony stopped pacing to ask, “How do you know her?”
“She worked with my brother. Dr. Lenz is a psychologist who was able to identify the exact areas of concern for Victor. Not only was she able to see the issue clearly, she was able to explain it to our family in a manner everyone understood. It’ll take someone who can identify a schizophrenic in exact terms to call someone out who’s malingering.”
Tony pondered this. “It’s damn hard to get a psychologist to say someone’s faking it. Making that assertion is just setting yourself up for a lawsuit.”
“I’ll call her.” Fortunately for us, juries were skeptical. If one psychologist out of six said a defendant was faking it, that was usually enough to sway a jury. People liked to see consequences for violent crimes.
MONDAY, JUNE 30
TONY AND I SAT in an observation room behind mirrored glass at the Morrison County jail, watching Dr. Nicole Lenz conduct her second interview with Al Brennan. Dr. Lenz told us she couldn’t give us any hint of her opinion until both interviews were completed. Al and Dr. Lenz were seated across from each other in an interview room with gray cement walls. The psychologist was a thin, fair-skinned woman in her late forties, with light freckles and shoulder-length brunette hair streaked with silver. She sat back in a plastic chair with her legs crossed, looking perfectly at ease. Sitting next to her, Al looked troll-like in his jail orange and his unsightly hair.
Dr. Lenz presented as paradoxical, appearing physically relaxed, while intensely scrutinizing Al’s behaviors. She asked, “Have the visions persisted?”
Al carefully thought out his answer and then replied with a simple, “Yes.”
“What is your emotional reaction to the hallucinations?”
“Scared. It makes me question my sanity, you know.”
I turned to Tony. “He’s faking well. Most people who fake it make the mistake of over-attempting to act crazy. He’s acknowledging an emotional reaction to his hallucinations, which is typical for someone who’s psychotic.”
My comments bothered Tony. He countered, “How is it that you know so much about the insanity plea?”
“I volunteered for a lot of tasks at the BCA before I was promoted,” I said. “One was to help prepare one of the investigators for a case where they felt a perpetrator was malingering. Plus, I also have an insane person in my family.”
Tony chuckled. “That just makes you like everyone else.”
On the other side of the mirrored glass, Al nervously sputtered, “Last time you said that schizophrenics typically hear more than one voice. I didn’t want to admit this, but I do, too. Sometimes it’s my dad. Sometimes it’s scary political figures like Idi Amin.”
Tony spat in annoyance, “Man, is that a line of crap! Do you think Al knew who Idi Amin was before he went to jail and found old magazines and books to read through?”
I put a hand up and whispered, “I think that was a point for us. She’s setting him up.”
Dr. Lenz asked, “Are the voices constant, or are there situations that make them worse?”
Al swallowed hard. “The voices are constant.”
“Is there anything you can do that helps you cope with them?”
Al thought long and hard on this question. The tension was palpable. I could sense the wheels spinning in his head. If he answered that he could cope with them, this might suggest that he should have coped with them, instead of attempting to kill Brittany. Al finally said, “There’s nothing that helps.”
Dr. Lenz got up and glanced back at her empty chair as she spoke to Al. “You said the voices are constant. I want you to speak directly to them.”
Looking slightly uncertain, Al stood up and yelled at the empty chair, “Leave me alone! I’m not hurting anyone anymore!” He looked back at Dr. Lenz for approval.
For the first time, Dr. Lenz exhibited the glimpse of a smile. She told him, “I don’t have any other questions,” and dismissed him.
DR. LENZ JOINED US in the observation room a few minutes later bearing a smile of satisfaction. “Well, do you want to know what I think?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
She stood over us like an elementary teacher. “He’s malingering. Let’s see how good you guys are. How do I know he’s malingering?”
I suggested, “The visual hallucinations. Schizophrenics primarily have auditory hallucinations.”
She nodded. “That’s good, but keep going.”
Tony joined in. “His confronting the voice in the chair. I don’t know a lot about malingering, but I do know that real crazy people hear the voices in their heads. They wouldn’t approach a chair to talk to their voices.”
Dr. Lenz smiled with approval. “Very good. I particularly liked the way he followed my suggestion. The first time I met with him he heard one voice. After I suggested that an insane person might hear more than one voice, he made sure to have another voice this time.”
I added, “He claimed the voices are constant. Schizophrenics typically have voices that come and go.”
“Also good,” she said. “Further, he doesn’t have a strategy for dealing with them. Someone who actually hears voices has a strategy. For people with schizophrenia, the voices are always worse in some situations.” She turned to me. “When are the voices worse for your brother?”
“When the radio’s on or when he’s in any building with an intercom system. It seems to trigger them.”
She smiled. “People who truly experience mental illness know this. He also reported two kinds of psychoses which typically don’t co-occur, command hallucinations and visual hallucinations. Plus, he has no prior history of mental illness. As with most malingerers, he isn’t faking the most common characteristic of schizophrenia: a flat affect. When people fake, they focus on what they should do, rather than recognizing the lack of emotionality and avolition of schizophrenics. However, the coup de gras is the crime itself. An insane person would attempt to kill someone for an illogical reason, but then stay at the scene. To an insane person, the murder was justified. There would be no reason to run. A sane person cleans up the scene and takes elaborate steps to avoid being caught, because he knows the consequences. He had a sane motive. Alban attempted to kill his daughter to cover up his crimes.”
Tony smiled. “We look forward to your report.”
Alban Brennan’s effort at an insanity plea had just been destroyed.
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
JON FREDERICK
WEDNESDAY, JULY 2
MORRISON COUNTY JAIL, LITTLE FALLS
JASON BRENNAN AGREED to testify against his father, solidifying the case against Al. Brittany’s therapist reported that she was still too traumatized to testify. Knowing we could get
a conviction without her testimony, we decided to leave her out of it and let her heal.
I could have gone to Little Falls any day this week, but chose this particular day because it was Jeff Lemor’s release day. Jeff had been sentenced to ninety days for violating his probation by using alcohol but was released early due to good behavior.
When I pulled into the jail parking lot, Vicki was anxiously adding to her already ample makeup in the rearview mirror as she sat in Jeff’s blue “FO D” pick-up, waiting for his departure from jail. I quietly approached her and pounded on the window.
Vicki let out a sharp, shrill scream, then jumped out of the truck, laughing. “Jerk! I’ve probably got lipstick all over my cheek.” Vicki was conservatively dressed in a mid-length denim skirt and western-style blouse, with battered brown cowboy boots that had been through some tough days, looking like she was headed to a rodeo. She looked clear-eyed and healthy. I was relieved to see she had put on some weight. After shaking her fist at me, she gave me a big hug.
Vicki softly added, “I never did thank you for coming to my rescue that night.”
“I know. I came back here just for that,” I teased.
Vicki furrowed her eyebrows and asked, “You didn’t really, did you?”
I couldn’t help it, I ruffled her hair. “No, I’ve got some papers to deliver to the county attorney.”
“Ugh. You’re so mean!” She set about fixing her hair in her reflection in the truck’s window.
“You’re looking good, Vicki. Big day today.”
“Yeah. I’m so excited I could piss my pants. You should read the letters I’ve gotten from Jeff. So nice . . .” There was a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
“Vicki, promise me you’ll take care of yourself and your daughter, all right?”
“Oh, you can bet on it. It’s going to be so fun having Hannah outside this summer,” she beamed. Vicki caught herself. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about Hannah. Thanks for caring, and thank your dad again from me, for fixing my car.”
I pulled a manila envelope out of the stack of papers I held and handed it to Vicki. “Would you mind giving these to Jeff?”
Vicki peered into the envelope. “They’re his pictures of his mom. I thought they burned up.”
“Before Sean left the trailer that day, he took the pictures to the lab and asked the CSI crew to go through them for any possible prints of Brittany. Of course there weren’t any, so the pictures ended up being filed away with the rest of the evidence used in the investigation. I wanted to make sure Jeff got them back.”
“Thank you.” Vicki gave me another quick hug, and I headed into the jail.
I STOPPED TO SPEAK BRIEFLY to Jeff before he was released. I wanted to give him some information that would help him let go of resentments. If you want to move forward, you need to let go of the past. I explained to Jeff that he had been headed to prison on a probation violation for possession of a weapon, until his trailer burned down. I also wanted him to know that Vicki was the one person who stood by him when everyone else wanted him lynched. He was lucky to have someone who loved him so much. If he honestly wanted to make amends for his past sins, he could do so by treating Vicki and Hannah honorably.
A Christian ministry group that assisted inmates adjust to life in the community had helped Jeff find a home and employment while he was in jail. Now it was up to Jeff.
WHEN I RETURNED HOME, Serena was in bed, napping. Today was a day of resolution for me, so I couldn’t let her sleep. I gave her a nice, long backrub, and then kissed the back of her neck and whispered, “I need to ask you something.”
Serena acknowledged that she’d been extremely tired lately, and apologized for it. She sat up and stretched as she told me, “I think I know what this is about.”
I interrupted her. “You’ve been through so much, it’s no wonder you’re tired,” I said. “Besides, it has to annoy you that I fall asleep every time we lay on the couch together to watch a show. I’ve always had difficulty falling asleep, but when I’m next to you, this soothing, cathartic tranquility overtakes me, and I just give into it. It’s like lying on the porch of heaven.”
Serena laughed in confusion. “It doesn’t annoy me. I think it’s sweet, because I know you’ve always had a troubled soul. It comforts me.”
“Please bear with me a little longer,” I said. “I think I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve been capable of love, and I love you more than ever right now. I need you.” I sighed, “I’ve always taken pride in being independent, but I can’t get around it. I need you. You make me feel like I’m giving you the world when I really haven’t given you much of anything.”
I dropped to my knee. “Serena Bell, will you marry me?” I slowly opened my hand, revealing a small, black velvet ring box.
Serena’s emerald eyes glistened as she responded, “Yes . . .” She took the ring box from my hand and opened it. She studied it and, with genuine pleasure, told me, “It’s beautiful. I love it. I love you.”
“I thought about proposing to you by the curve of the river at my parents’ farm, where we used to sit by the fire on summer nights. It’s where I first realized I’d be the luckiest guy in the world if you would marry me. But I couldn’t wait. I didn’t want to go another minute without knowing.” After giving it significant thought, I didn’t want the proposal process to overshadow the proposal. Big, dramatic marriage proposals make it hard for those on the receiving end to say no, even if they want to. It needed to be discreet enough to allow her to decline without pressure. I wanted Serena to be focused on the merits of sharing her life with me, with no pressure to accept. It had to be what she wanted.
Serena smiled. “When people ask how I reacted to the proposal, I can say, ‘I damn near fell out of bed!‘” She laughed, and I joined her.
Serena pulled her shirt up slightly above her waist, baring her midriff. She placed my hand on her stomach and looked at me expectantly. “We’re having a baby.” She beamed. “I absolutely couldn’t tell you until you proposed. I didn’t want you to propose to me just because I was pregnant.”
This time, the adrenaline rush that spiked through me was saturated in the purest form of joy.
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
JON FREDERICK
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 4
AL BRENNAN WAS CONVICTED of attempted first degree murder, and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.
My contentment was short-lived, as Paula contacted me and told me that Jason Brennan had been arrested and was asking to speak to me. The night before Al’s sentencing, Jason sexually abused Brittany. I agonized over this news, and then offered to help. Tony asked if I would travel to Arrowhead Juvenile Center in Duluth to interview Jason—he was unable to, as he would be attending an appeal hearing filed by Al’s attorney. Upon hearing the news about Jason, Al’s attorney had immediately asked for a new trial, suggesting Jason had perjured himself in court when he claimed he didn’t have sex with Brittany. Jason’s testimony that Al had left at ten thirty in the van the morning Brittany was abducted was our strongest testimony. We hadn’t brought the case against Mandy Baker forward yet, or the other assaults, as they would be easier to prosecute with this conviction. Still, Tony wasn’t concerned over our ability to keep Al in custody. He described the court hearing as a formality to appease Al’s attorney.
People wanted to believe everything was wonderful for an unhealthy family after the perpetrator was removed, but that was rarely the case. No family member comes out of a bad situation unscathed and, without proper help and enforced boundaries, bad things happened. I was initially frustrated that Mary had left Jason and Brittany alone at night. Then I discovered Mary was unable to find daytime employment, so she ended up leaving the kids alone while she worked the night shift at a nursing home. Mary was trying to avoid being a welfare mother.
Brittany had unbearable nightmares. The tortured little girl would go into her brother’s room at night and slee
p on the covers of his bed for companionship. Then one night, she crawled under the covers with Jason, and Jason engaged in sexual intercourse with her while she lay there and said nothing. Jason claimed she initiated the contact. Come on, Jason, she’s twelve years old, and she’s your sister, I thought in disgust when I heard this. Mary had brought Jason to therapy a month ago, and even told the therapist she had concerns that Jason struggled with some sexual issues related to his past viewing of pornography. What she didn’t know was that a number of providers, such as Medicare, won’t cover services if concerns were expressed about sexual issues. So, instead of getting badly needed help, Jason was left home alone at night, with his untreated sexual issues, to take care of a twelve-year-old girl who had experienced severe victimization.
Jason still claimed he hadn’t had intercourse with Brittany prior to testifying, so he hadn’t perjured himself. After interviewing Jason and Brittany again, I believed him. But would this new offense be enough to create reasonable doubt in the judge ruling on the matter?
Additional charges could be added against Al Brennan, but as I examined them one by one, I realized they all were problematic. First, the DNA from the assault on Serena had been misfiled, and the BCA lab techs were trying to locate it. It had been delivered to the lab, so it was a matter of tracking it down. This occasionally happened with DNA that wasn’t high priority, and a physical assault without a confirmed rape was not considered a high priority. Second, Al never admitted to the arson of Jeff Lemor’s trailer, and he likely wouldn’t be held in lock-up for being suspected of burning an unoccupied trailer, as he had no prior charges. Third, the prosecutor had been reluctant to add Al’s attempt on my life, as well as the murder of Mandy Baker, to the case of Brittany’s attempted murder, because Mandy’s body was discovered on our farm. The prosecutor had concerns that officers who came to the scene witnessed me holding the rifle on Al, and the defense attorney would use this scenario to create reasonable doubt of Al’s guilt. At the time, I wasn’t even working as an investigator, as I had been suspended. Finally, Vicki had lied to investigators by attempting to provide an alibi for Jeff, making it difficult to prosecute the rapes she suffered through based solely on her word.
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