Crazy for You

by Michael Fleeman

  “It’s a silly thing, actually,” said Hemy. “It’s always the straw that breaks the camel’s back. We went to Lowes and we’re broke. Again, I owe money up the quazoo [sic]. It’s crazy.”

  Hemy, who through most of the interview had sat still in his chair, hands in his lap, became animated. He waved his arms and raised his voice. “I’m in a debt consolidation plan, I have a personal loan of sixty-five thousand dollars.”

  “Then you have the Georgia Tech loans?” asked Barnes.

  “I have the student loans, which is like fifty grand or something,” Hemy said. “So we were way over our means. I mean the mortgage is three thousand dollars. We have all these expenses, and we have no money. I told my wife, I said, ‘We just don’t have any money. We’re broke.’ Not only are we broke, but I think I’m going to maybe have to declare bankruptcy. Or foreclose on the house. I don’t know how we can continue to afford this. And I’m telling her this and we went to Lowes and she says, ‘Oh, you know, there’s patio furniture on sale. Our patio furniture is old.‘”

  Hemy continued, “Say what? I said, ‘You realize that we don’t have a dime. We cannot buy anything.’ But she says, ‘It’s on a sale. A really good price.’ I said, ‘I don’t care if they’re giving it away. We can’t afford it.’ And that’s when I realized, the relationship became destructive. I was trying to please her. She was never happy with what we have. I kept trying to please her with buying things.”

  His wife wasn’t working, he said. She had been trained as a teacher in Israel. “She has a teaching credential, not that she ever worked,” he said, then added, “She knows Hebrew. She’s a good person.” He said she has recently gone back to work “out of need,” as a teacher’s assistant. The Neuman family had amassed a mountain of debt. They owed $450,000 on their house in East Cobb, $77,000 in credit card balances.

  Barnes asked: “What were you using the credit card for?”

  “Trips, just buying things. We were spending sixteen hundred a month on food. My wife loves to cook. You know, Jewish. I mean, we would have twenty-five people in and serve them filet mignon. It was crazy. I mean we have twenty-five people over, dinner would cost six or seven hundred dollars. We were spending four thousand or five thousand a month more than I was making.”

  Cortellino asked, “Sounds like you were spending more on socializing?”

  Hemy paused.

  They had now been in the room for thirty-eight minutes and neither detective had asked about the rental car or Rusty’s murder. With exasperation in his voice, he asked, “Where is all this going?”

  Cortellino answered vaguely, “I’m just trying to get a basis on Rusty. How you and Andrea and Rusty can cross.”

  Although two detectives had him pinned into the corner of a small room, Hemy technically wasn’t in custody or under arrest. He had not been read his rights. He was theoretically completely free to leave at any time. The law covers statements made by custodial and noncustodial people in different ways; Cortellino would need to tread carefully.

  Hemy didn’t press the issue and Cortellino resumed his questions. The detective asked again about the night Hemy had visited the Sneidermans. Hemy explained that he and Andrea were scrambling to finish a project. The late hours became necessary. The project had a year-end deadline.

  Hemy was asked if he noticed whether the long hours had caused issues between Andrea and Rusty. Hemy said he began to sense tension between the two. Before joining GE, Andrea had worked from home. Now going into the office each day, leaving Rusty with the children, created “some conflict between them,” Hemy said. “She’s got a little bit of pressure.”

  Cortellino asked: “Did she share what was going on in her home as you shared with her?”

  “She talked about it,” he said. “She’s not at home with the kids. Rusty is at home. He doesn’t have an office. He’s trying to set up his business. He becomes the dad, has to go take them to school, bring them back, all of that stuff.”

  “So the roles pretty much reverse?”

  “That caused some stress, but you know, again, it’s not anything that you wouldn’t expect,” he said. “She indicated that, yeah, they were having problems over who has what priorities.”

  Casually, Cortellino asked Hemy where he happened to be the morning of the murder.

  “I was at work,” he said.

  “And Andrea?”

  “Andrea was at work.”

  “And Rusty? You don’t know what Rusty was doing?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Cortellino then asked: “What time did Andrea get into work because I thought she was able to work out of the home and come to the office?’

  “When she joined the agreement was that a couple of days of the week she would work from home, which she didn’t do, which was part of the stress between Rusty and Andrea. When you’re training and you’re learning and you’re trying to develop your relationships and all that it’s hard if you’re not in the office.”

  Cortellino paused before asking his next question. In a more serious tone, he said, “Listen, I’m going to talk to you about the day of the shooting, but I’m going to read you your rights on it, your Miranda rights.”

  Hemy was taken aback. “Why, am I—?” he asked, not finishing the thought.

  “Well, you never know,” said Cortellino. “I mean, I just want to talk to everybody about that day and I’m asking everybody to be honest and truthful with me and just recall the day as you remember it.”

  “Do I have to worry?”

  “I don’t think so,” said the detective. “Okay. I’m not worried. I’m not going to worry. You’re fine.”

  Cortellino’s voice dripped with a just-between-us-guys sincerity. “Listen, you’re helping. You got the information. You’re flowing with it. For a guy that says, ‘What do I know?’ you’re giving me a lot.”

  Cortellino gestured to Barnes, who had resumed silence but busily took notes. “He’s up to five pages already, he’s writing.”

  Hemy lifted his palms in a what’s-going-on-here pose: “You asked me about a car and you’re asking all these questions?”

  “I’m asking you questions about Rusty and Andrea. I’m trying to get into their lives,” said Cortellino. “Andrea’s not at a point right now, I’ll be honest, she’s not at a point where I can sit down and talk to her. You know, she’s got so many emotions going on and let’s face it. You probably could tell we’re not the most congenial guys. That’s the nature of the beast. I can’t sit there and console her. I’m not a rabbi, I’m not a therapist. I’m just somebody looking into why this happened to her family. She wants to know why her family is destroyed, why her kids don’t have a father, why she don’t have a husband. That’s all she keeps asking. And I’m hunting around asking all these people that they know and they want to know.”

  Hemy dropped down his head, shaking, hands in his lap. “Am I suspect?”

  Before Cortellino answered, Hemy asked if the detective had read Miranda rights to everybody else he had interviewed.

  “If I have to, yeah,” the detective said, not letting on that so far nobody had been read their rights in the case. “I mean, do what I got to do. I mean talk to everybody I have to and it is.”

  Cortellino slid a piece of paper to Hemy.

  “You can read English pretty well, right? These are the statement of Miranda. I’m going to read them.”

  He cited the familiar refrain from countless TV shows: the right to remain silent, the warning that everything he said could be used against him in a court of law, the right to an attorney.

  “Do you understand?” asked Cortellino.

  “Am I going to need a lawyer?” asked Hemy.

  The detective evaded. “Do you need a lawyer?” said Cortellino.

  “I don’t know,” said Hemy. “I’m asking you.”

  “This is what you need to ask yourself,” said Cortellino. “These questions. Do you feel like being asked questions about Rusty?”


  “You’re reading me—I’ve never been in a situation like this.”

  “This is plain English. You’re an intelligent guy. You’re college-educated. You’ve been around the world more times than I have. You’re more attuned to what’s going on than I am.”

  Cortellino read Hemy his rights again.

  “Do you understand those that I’ve just read you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You need to sign right over here.”

  Hemy signed, though the process didn’t end there. The detective had a second piece of paper for Hemy. Now that Hemy acknowledged understanding his rights, would he waive those rights?

  “Are you willing to talk to me right now to help me find the person who did this to Andrea and her family?” asked Cortellino.

  “Yeah,” Hemy said, “but I’m not going to waive rights. I’m not—I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

  “We’re looking into what’s happened on that day.”

  “I mean, I have these rights, and now you’re saying that I’m waiving them? What does that mean?”

  “Having these rights, what I’ve just read to you, are you wiling to give up these rights and willingly talk to me, to make a statement? Are you willing to talk to me?”

  “Okay, so, why didn’t you give this to me an hour ago?”

  “Because I wanted to see what you knew,” said Cortellino. “Did you know Andrea? Did you know Rusty? How well do you know him? See where we’re going with it?”

  “I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

  “It’s just a conversation. This is a conversation. You have information. You know Andrea. You know Rusty better than I do,” the detective said. “And I’ve got a task ahead of me to find out who did this. And all I’m doing to is talking to all their friends, all their business associates, anybody that knows—neighbors, friends, I don’t care if it’s a waiter or waiters, I’m going to talk to everybody that knows them. Everybody. And God only knows how long it’s going to take me to do that. When I say me, I’m talking to all of us.”

  “I don’t know again, my comfort—I’m in this setting.”

  Cortellino spread out his arms. “This is a comfortable setting.”

  Hemy said, “You call me in about a car—”

  “I want to talk to you about a car. I want to,” said Cortellino. “Maybe you got something that can help me. You worked in the same environment with Andrea. That’s as close as I’ve gotten to her so far. I’m not going to get any closer to her working over there than you. You work there. I’m looking into the family. I’ve got to get insight on the family.”

  The more they talked, the more agitated Hemy became. Cortellino said he just wanted a simple conversation, talk about Andrea’s family, Rusty’s family, their friends—“A simple thing,” the detective said.

  “I am talking to you,” said Hemy. “I’m talking to you right here.”

  “Hemy, this is not rocket science. You are a smart guy. You’re not signing away your mortgage.”

  “No, I’m not signing away my mortgage but this is very uncomfortable.”

  “Well, I’ll make it comfortable again. Why is it uncomfortable? You were doing so well up until now. I put a piece of paper in front of you—you say it’s uncomfortable. That concerns me, to be honest.”

  “No.”

  “That concerns me,” said Cortellino, his voice rising.

  “I know, but you read Miranda rights and it seems like as if I’m a suspect.”

  Cortinellino locked eyes with Hemy: “Are you a suspect?”

  Hemy looked away. “I don’t think I need to be a suspect. I shouldn’t be a suspect. There’s no reason why I should be a suspect. But you’re reading me my rights.”

  Hemy shook his head back and forth as if trying to get a crick out of his neck.

  “I mean, you’re shaking like a leaf,” Cortellino said. “I got to wonder about that.”

  “Again, I told you everything. Last night, I wasn’t feeling well. My head is about to explode.”

  “Maybe it’s the conscience,” suggested Cortellino. “You got a lot on your mind.”

  “It was a crappy day the last couple of days with my twins,” said Hemy. His two daughters had blamed him for the breakup of the marriage, he said.

  Cortellino said ominously: “Every day could be crappy for the rest of your life.”

  Hemy didn’t seem to hear him. “It’s not great if your daughter is telling you that you’re an asshole.”

  Cortellino told Hemy a story about a friend who lost a daughter to a drug overdose and now wishes every day the daughter was still alive if only to call her an asshole. He urged Hemy to stop thinking about himself, to think about his family. “Think about Andrea,” the detective said.

  “Yeah,” said Hemy.

  “Think about what she’s going through.”

  “Right.”

  “And help them, help them all. Help them all in any way you can, whatever way you can,” said Cortellino.

  Hemy then mentioned his doctor’s appointment.

  “You’re fine, just make it tomorrow,” said Cortellino. “I’m trying to bring these people peace in 2011. I’m trying to bring Andrea closure in 2011. I failed in 2010. I’m trying to bring some peace, some resolution, let this family know what happened. They deserve it. They need to know what happened that day.”

  Hemy took a long sip of water from a foam cup.

  Then Barnes spoke quietly in his southern accent. “This is going to be the last chance to help yourself.”

  “And if we stop now,” asked Hemy, “what happens?”

  “Then we’ll have to make a decision,” said Barnes, “decide how to proceed without you. It’s that simple.”

  Hemy asked: “Can I go to the bathroom?”

  “Absolutely,” said Barnes.

  “I can try and absorb everything.”

  Two minutes later, Hemy returned. Barnes handed him another cup of water. Hemy picked up a pen and signed the rights waiver. Cortellino added his signature. Barnes sat back, quiet again.

  Cortellino then asked again where Hemy was and exactly what he was doing on the morning of November 18, 2010.

  CHAPTER 7

  “We’ve got four buildings and she’s in a different building, employees spread all over.” Hemy Neuman was explaining the layout at GE Energy in Marietta.

  “You were at work?” asked Sergeant Gary Cortellino.

  Hemy nodded yes.

  Cortellino asked: “If she was there she would be at her own desk in her own building?”

  “If she was there?” Hemy asked, stressing if.

  “Right. Is there any way we can verify that? Knowing what you know about GE, is there any way we can verify she is sitting at her desk on November 18.”

  “We have badges with electronic—”

  Cortellino cut off his answer. “Who can we contact to check?”

  Hemy reminded silent.

  “Hemy, am I talking too fast for you?”

  “No.”

  “Simple question.”

  The interview, going on for an hour, had taken a more confrontational tone, Hemy’s evasive answers met with ever-sharper questions from Cortellino.

  “There’s a facilities manager,” Hemy said. “I guess with reports, I don’t know.”

  “What time did you get there on the eighteenth?”

  “Around five thirty. I got in early.”

  “Is that a normal hour to get in there?”

  “No. I’ve done it in the past, not normal, but we had, I had several—not the project with Andrea, but another big project I’m working on.”

  “So on the eighteenth, five thirty you get there, six thirty you’re working, seven thirty you’re working, people starting to come in? People seeing you, saying hello?”

  “Yeah, normal day.”

  “So Rusty gets shot sometime in the morning. How does the news hit?”

  “Again, the first thing I knew was when Andrea c
ontacted me.”

  “How did she do that?”

  “She sent me a text and called me.”

  Barnes asked, “What did she say in the text?”

  “It was—there was an accident.”

  The text actually went to another employee named Alan who worked in the office next to hers, said Hemy. Alan then texted Hemy saying, “I need to make contact with you. Andrea has a family emergency.”

  It was later in the morning, Hemy said, when he heard directly from Andrea. She had tried calling him on his cell phone, but he hadn’t picked it up. When he saw the missed call he dialed her back, reaching her in a car as she was going to the hospital with her parents.

  “When you talked to her on the phone, how did she sound?” asked Cortellino, resuming the questioning.

  “Very distressed.”

  “Have you ever heard her in a distressed moment before?” the detective asked.

  “Not really. She was sort of shaky.”

  “Did you say: Let me talk to your parents to find out what’s going on?”

  “She didn’t give me much of an opportunity to say anything,” said Hemy. “Again she said, ‘There’s been a serious accident with Rusty’ or something like that. ‘I need for you to handle the office. I ran out.’”

  “And later on in the day you learned that Rusty had died?”

  “Yeah, somewhere around twelve thirty.”

  “And how did you learn that?”

  “Again, Alan came to me,” said Hemy. “He was in our building and he came up to me and said Andrea had called him and said Rusty died. Now, we didn’t know how or what.”

  Hemy said he went to the human resources manager with the news that Andrea Sneiderman’s husband had died. An hour later, Alan called to say that another employee had seen an online news report that Rusty had been shot.

  “What were you guys thinking at that point that he’s been shot?” asked Cortellino.

  “What we were trying to do is keep the information to what we know,” said Hemy. He sent around an email saying that Andrea had to leave the office due to personal reasons. “I didn’t even say that her husband had died.”

  He said he left the office at about 6 p.m. and went to Ruthy’s apartment. He returned to work the next day, Friday.