The guards found the Homolkas very strange. They never talked, and the mother and Karla’s sister held hands all the time. When they came to live in the litde house they never brought
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any luggage, even though they were invariably holed up in the tiny tin can for three and four days at a time.
The guards did not know about all the mobile homes m the Homolka’s background.
On March 25, Karla was told that the Crown was planning to lay manslaughter charges against Paul Bernardo for her sister’s murder. At the end of the month, GiUies and Karla talked on the phone again. They had just found out that the Attorney-General was going to “prefer” the charges and send Bernardo directly to trial. The preliminary hearing had been canceled. Karla would not be traveling to St. Catharines after all.
Preferring charges was a controversial move and it was a power that rested solely with the mimster. It w^as seldom invoked. It was viewed as undemocratic and regarded by defense and prosecution attorneys ahke as being highly prejudicial to the interests ot an accused person. Bernardo was scheduled for a preliminary’ hearing on the murders on April 15. In Karla’s datebook it was marked in block letters, “CANCELLED.”
On April 5, it was in the press. The minister said the preferred charges would “speed up the process,” and the pubhc would see justice done sooner.
Dorothy Homolka told her faithflil co-workers at the Shaver Clinic that it was “a big load off our minds.” The Homolkas had been afraid Paul’s lawyers would rip Karla apart and they were very glad that the Attorney-General had stepped in and now there would not be any prehminary^ hearing.
Another visit from Sergeants GiUies and Beauheu was marked in Karla’s datebook on April 6. It was coming up to the second anniversary of Kristen French’s death. Karla painstakingly wTote out all the lyrics to the Guns N’ Roses song, “Used to Love Her”: “Oh, slut, bitchin’, frissin’, cussin’,/I used to love her/But I had to kill her …” and gave it to them.
On the fourth of May, Karla turned tventy-four. She was very upset. None of her “friends” had sent her birthday cards.
At the end of the month. Sergeant Bob came down for another visit and brought another new person for Karla to meet. Sergeant Scott Kenney. This was quite exciting for Karla; not only was Sergeant Kenney short enough to allow Karla to
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look him straight in the eye, but he was also one of the officers who had interviewed her ex-husband on May 12, 1992, a few days after Kristen French’s body had been found. Karla assured Sergeant Kenney that Paul could put a “spell” on anybody.
Houlahan and Barnett were back to do last-minute prepping before Paul’s lawyers, Ken Murray and Carolyn MacDonald, exercised their right to examine Karla on camera. When the Attorney-General preferred an indictment, the defense attorneys were given the option to do voir dires with the Crown’s witnesses.
Barnett and Houlahan explained the rules and procedures in some detail, and Houlahan assured Karla that she did not need George Walker. He, R.J. Houlahan, would be there, looking out for her best interests. Karla was beginning to fully appreciate what it meant to be the Crown’s star witness.
Ken Murray and Carolyn MacDonald had set aside five days in late May and early June to examine Karla Homolka. Carolyn MacDonald knew that Ken Murray had some source of information to which she was not privy. She could even imagine what it was, particularly after their law clerk, Kim Doyle, pointed out Murray’s unexpensed rental of videotape equipment that would copy 8mm-format videotape onto the more popular VHS format.
MacDonald knew for certain that some of Ken Murray’s insights about Karla Homolka were derived from a source other than Paul Bernardo. During their preparation, Murray made it clear he wanted certain questions asked of Karla; unusual questions about the use of underwear—her dead sister’s underwear, in particular—as sexual props and aids, and whether or not Karla had used halothane on anyone else other than Tammy Lyn Homolka.
MacDonald and the studious law clerk Ms. Doyle were zealous, to the point of fanaticism, about the fact that Karla Homolka was a killer who was lying through her teeth to save her own skin. They fervently believed that the prosecution’s deal with Karla Homolka was a travesty of justice. The women
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had a picture of Karla blown up to poster size. In the middle of her forehead they had marked in red felt pen the scarlet letter A, a salacious homage to Nathaniel Hawthorne. It was posted prominently on the wall of the office, where they burned the midnight oil, piecing together “the real story.” Ken Murray fanned the flames of their fanaticism every chance he got. It meant they did most of the work and he could continue to “dump truck”—dealing out a myriad of lesser, incidental Legal Aid certificates at the Newmarket courthouse.
Karla Homolka and this case would be the pinnacle of Carolyn MacDonald’s short legal career—MacDonald would be doing the lion’s share of the defense examination of Karla Homolka. She was grateful to Ken Murray for the opportunity, but she did not feel she was on terra firma. Nobody who worked with Ken Murray ever did.
“I have a warning I’m going to read to you,” said Karla’s keeper. Sergeant Gillies. Then he advised the prisoner Homolka about the repercussions of perjury and her potential liability for prosecution and further punishment. They were in the boardroom at the Kingston Prison for Women.
“I want to determine first of all that you are comfortable,” Carolyn MacDonald said.
“As can be expected,” Karla replied.
“Are you nervous?” Carolyn asked.
“A httle bit, not much,” Karla offered, but she was not nervous at all.
“I want you to understand that I’m not here to scare you, intimidate you,” MacDonald explained. “I’m not going to yell at you. I’m not going to try and trick you. I’m just trying to get information.”
“Well,” interjected Karla’s prosecutor Houlahan, “I’m here to ensure that you are not going to yell at her or intimidate …”
“As long as you’re here, I’m sure we’ll get the information, Ray,” Ken Murray said sarcastically.
MacDonald started off by asking Karla about her aborted efforts to be transferred to a psychiatric faciUty—efforts thwarted by Dr. Brown—which might have pardy explained
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why Karla expressed such disdain for the kindly, old psychiatrist in her early letters to Dr. Arndt.
MacDonald asked her why she had gone directly into the prison hospital rather than into segregation when she arrived at Kingston.
“They didn’t know what to do with me and I was on massive doses of medication—so they wanted me to be in the hospital,” Karla icily replied.
Finally she admitted that Dr. Brown had told her on the second or third day that he did not feel Karla met the criteria for committal to St. Thomas.
“How did you feel about that?”
“Um, I was a Htde bit upset,” Karla said. “I didn’t feel that this prison could offer me the degree of therapy that was necessary.”
MacDonald told Karla that Dr. Brown’s memo said Karla had spent most of their early time together talking about her fears of prison life, her drugs and the future after she got out of prison. MacDonald told Karla that Dr. Brown indicated in his notes that she was only interested in pursuing regular therapy sessions with a male—he underlined that. “Is that a request that you made to Dr. Brown?” MacDonald asked.
Karla flatly and emphatically denied that she had ever told Dr. Brown such a thing.
Dr. Brown had done a psychiatric report on Karla on March 23, 1994. It was intended for the psychiatrist who was going to be with her at the preliminary—Dr. Peter Collins, who was known as a consultant to police—particularly the Metropohtan Toronto Police, the OPP and the RCMP.
MacDonald made these observations and then asked a question: “Dr. Brown indicates as of March 23, 1994
, ‘At the present time she sleeps well considering her situations.’ Is that true?” Karla answered in the affirmative.
“Okay, Dr. Brown indicates you showed good insight and you are well motivated with regards to dealing with your sentence. Do you think that is a fair comment?”
“Yes, it is.”
Williams
“He also shows no evidence of depression. Do you agree with that?”
“He must mean chnical depression, because I am depressed—not all the time, but I don’t know what the definition of clinical depression is, either.”
MacDonald asked Karla whether she had had anal sex or had penetrated her anus or her vagina with objects between October, 1987 and August, 1988. Karla said she believed the anal sex had started in the summer of 1988, but not the sticking of objects into herself MacDonald asked her about oral sex and called it “oral sex on him,” which somehow confused Karla.
“Why don’t you say fellatio or cunnilingus? Use the words,” Ray Houlahan said curtly.
“The problem is I can’t say them,” Ms. MacDonald admitted. “I can’t pronounce them. Yes. Okay. Fellation, we’ll start with that … and I can’t say it—cunnilungus. Is that how you say it?”
“Cunnilingus,” said Mr. Houlahan.
“Yes, I enjoyed that,” said Karla.
I ‘ H A P f f-K thirty-one
‘ aria was an enigma to her handlers, more so for the riddle of Jane Doe than for all her other bizarre, criminal, deviant behavior. As far as the police and prosecutors could tell, it was not from Karla’s dreams or the depth of her subconscious that Karla “recovered” her memory of the incident with Jane Doe. It was “recovered” by dogged poHce work and videotapes. The poHce had finally pieced together the fact that the girl in the innocuous video with the towel cake and the dog was one and the
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same as the comatose girl in edited clips from “Karla’s Sex Video.”
Through details garnered from that seemingly innocent video, such as the sight of the Oxfr)rd Hall sweatshirt, the presence of a videocassette copy of the movie Ghost for which they had found a receipt in the house dated June 6, 1991, the towel cake and the size and age of the dog, they had been able to date the attack on Jane Doe as having occurred late in the evening of June 6 or early on the morning of June 7. This fact they had not yet shared with the defense, partly because they remained confused about Karla’s 911 call, which she had Hnked to Jane Doe. It had been made two months later on August 11.
Paul Bernardo’s defense counsel, Ken Murray, was not confused. He had “studied greatly” the aberrant behavior of Inspector Bevan’s “comphant victim” on the videotapes. Since he had watched the entire twenty-minute “trophy” videotape of Paul and Karla’s attack on Jane Doe and had spoken to his client, he knew that Paul Bernardo did not know Jane Doe and had been out of the house when Karla “put her down” with the same mixture of Halcion and halothane that had killed Tammy Lyn Homolka six months earlier.
Murray also knew, as Karla did, that she had done this to Jane Doe twice. It was on the second occasion, in the wee small hours of August 11, 1991, that Jane had apparently stopped breathing and Karla, in a panic, called 911 only to cancel the call a few minutes later when Jane came around.
Murray was confused about what to do about his knowledge. Everything was infuriatingly gray; there was no clear black or white. Until Murray understood his client’s position more clearly, he was not about to tip his hand.
When iMacDonald asked Karla about the number of sleeping pills she had given Jane, Karla was definite that she had only given Jane one pill. How could Karla be so definite about something like that, and so vague about everything else?
Karla also categorically denied, time and again, ever administering halothane to anyone but her sister. As the days went by. Ken Murray noticed a remarkable quality in Karla. With each passing hour, with each passing day, like a vampire, Karla
seemed to sap energy from her interlocutors. For Karla, her lies were true, and out of her conviction, she took courage and became even more convincing. Carolyn MacDonald was no match for Karla. Then again, neither was Ken Murray.
During the interminable days of questioning, a beleaguered Carolyn MacDonald brought up the fact that Karla had called the Niagara Regional Police at 9:30 on Tuesday morning, February 22, 1993. She had made this call from the Segers’ residence. This was significant to Murray and MacDonald because “Karla’s Sex Video” had been found and viewed by the police the previous day.
Karla had been sternly warned by George Walker to stay strictly away from the police. The call from the Segers’ residence marked the only time Karla disobeyed Walker’s expHcit instructions. MacDonald suspected Karla’s motivation. Somehow, both she and Walker knew that the police had screened the one-minute, fifty-eight-second “sex video,” at 5:21 p.m., Sunday evening, February 21.
The defense suspected that Karla was so vexed, she had decided to try and take matters into her own hands and determine exactly what it was the police had found. The defense team had not been able to get any cogent information out of the pohce or the prosecution about this call, so they decided to pursue it with Karla.
Karla admitted she had made the call, but she said she did not remember why. Shortly after she had made the call, Karla went to Walker’s offices with her parents. Karla conveniently had no recollection about the details of that day’s discussions. In fact, she testified that she did not even remember meeting with her lawyer on that day.
MacDonald moved on to questions about Karla’s contact with Jane Doe. Yes, Karla had contacted her once after Paul’s arrest, but she did not remember anything about that either.
MacDonald pursued the short videotape and Karla’s selective memory.
“The police officers seized a videotape that I understand you
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have since viewed,” she began. “I beheve the videotape is a htde bit less than two minutes in length and it has three episodes where you are involved in sexual acts with someone?”
“Yes.”
“Were you aware on February 22 that the police had located this video?” MacDonald inquired.
Ray Houlahan interrupted: “If this is something that you became aware of as a result of speaking to your lawyer, it may be privileged.”
Karla turned to MacDonald and said, “I can’t answer that.”
MacDonald pressed on, asking Karla whether she had seen the tape before the police screened it for her and whether or not her lawyer had a copy of it. Karla started to flounder and went into an unconvincing, rhetorical flourish of denial. Houlahan stepped in to save her again.
“If you’re asserting privilege,” he advised, “say you are, so it shows on the record. If you don’t, you are just refusing for no reason that way.”
“Okay, I’m asserting privilege,” Karla said.
That hne of questioning clamped, MacDonald turned to Dr. Arndt’s notes from a session in early March, 1993 during which Karla discussed a videotape showing someone else’s hand, which she had placed in her vagina. To her psychiatrist, Karla had disclosed the fact that the comatose girl to whom the hand belonged was stiU alive.
“Do you remember discussing that with Dr. Arndt?” MacDonald demanded.
“I don’t remember that,” Karla said, gently explaining, as though to a shghtly retarded child, that her lack of specific memory was not really surprising since she had been under so much stress and she was still in shock.
“I fmd your memory selective, because you are able to give …” said MacDonald, starting to cite an example.
“It is not—selective,” Karla hastily interrupted. “I wouldn’t call it selective.”
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The defense knew about Karla’s activities in February from the statements of Krist>’ Maan. Ms. Maan had visited Karla in Brampton and had been surprised to find her positively ebul-hent. There were also the statements of Karla’s
erstwhile Sugar Shack boyfriend, Jim Hutton. MacDonald asked Karla why all the days she had been seeing Jim Hutton were marked with litde “x’s” in the bottom right-hand corner of her so-called diars’.
“Can you tell me what those are for?”
“Yes,” said Karla defiantly. “Menstrual cycle.”
Then MacDonald asked Karla about her state of mind prior to her hospitalization at Northw^estern General—throughout the month of February, while she was staying at the Segers’ and after she had returned home tow^ard the end of the month. Ever)‘one w^as surprised when Karla said: “I felt like killing myself all the time, I was severely depressed.”
“What do you mean by depressed?” MacDonald asked sohc-itously.
“I couldn’t eat. 1 couldn’t sleep. 1 felt hke my world was coming to an end. I felt hopeless.”
“So before you got admitted to the hospital, describe for me your behavior,” IVlacDonald requested.
“I was just hanging around the house all day, just moping around. 1 was tired all the time.”
“Did you associate with friends?”
“Yes. I was seeing my friends. I was trying to reestablish friendships with my friends. I didn’t see them very often.”
“Were you drinking alcohol?”
“Not a lot, no.”
MacDonald established that Karla had learned a good deal about drugs and their administration during her employment as a veterinarian’s assistant. Karla knew how to give injections and had been exposed to narcotics. They had Demerol at the vet cHnic and Karla was primarily responsible for the drug register.
MacDonald asked questions about Somnotol. Karla had run afoul of the vets at Martindale when she allegedly poured a
Invisible darkness : the strange case of Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka Page 45