Dorothy Allison - A Psychic Story

by A Psychic Story (lit)

  She said he was young and worked alone a great deal. "He has lots of little glass bottles in his basement. It's like a dark workshop." She went on to say that she sensed he had problems with girls: they made him nervous. "In order to get to Kathy's," she told the two men, "he would have to drive a long distance. He doesn't live in New Jersey."

  Serafin felt strongly that the description Dorothy gave was of the Hennessy's friend, Phil. He would have to broach the subject with John Hennessy, who had not known Phil as long as his wife had.

  After the session the group proceeded north to Nutley, and Dorothy's home. She left Serafin and John to be entertained by Bob, and Justine took Spanky in hand, leading him upstairs to play while Dorothy prepared dinner. Serafin, in the meantime, began to ask John specific questions about Phil.

  "Does he have hobbies?" Serafin inquired.

  "He has spent a helluva lot of money on chemistry equipment," John said. "Lots of stuff in his basement that he never touches. He's that type. Starts something and doesn't finish."

  While Serafin became more and more suspicious of Phil, little Spanky was unraveling another fantasy upstairs.

  Justine and Spanky were playing on the CB radio. The boy enjoyed playing with the radio buttons and flashing lights, and he especially liked holding the microphone. As soon as he got hold of it, he began talking about his "friend being hurt" again. Justine, realizing what was spewing forth, clicked on the cassette recorder.

  Justine encouraged the boy to tell her the story as he spoke into the CB radio, pretending to be a policeman at one moment, then a radio announcer, interjecting the story with "beeping" sounds.

  "Spanky, tell me who the man is," Justine coaxed.

  "He's a bad guy. He's Phil. I don't like him," Spanky said with a scowl.

  Justine, slightly jolted by the actual naming of a man, told Spanky to continue playing with the radio while she went to see if her mother needed any help in the kitchen. Justine went downstairs and asked Serafin, in a quiet voice, if she might have a word with him privately. She created as little stir as possible, not wanting to ignite a situation with Spanky's father.

  Justine told Serafin what had occurred upstairs with Spanky. The detective was astonished at the accusation against Phil. He knew, however, that Spanky's mind might have been picking up undercurrents in the adult conversations, as Phil had been mentioned several times during the day. But the incident did add fuel to his growing suspicion.

  After Dorothy's dinner Serafin told John on the drive back to Pemberton that he wanted to have a talk with Phil. John agreed, trying not to question the detective's request, as he knew his wife would.

  John Hennessy had grown up with enough experiences to know that the complexities of the mind and personality were more than deceptive. The mere fact that most of the suspects in his daughter's murder were friends or acquaintances of his made him search far into his conscience and question his view of life. His own daughter killed by a "friend." He would be glad to leave New Jersey and the tragedies of the past thirty days.

  John Hennessy made the arrangements with Phil to come to Pemberton while he and Carol and Spanky would be in Delaware for the day, so the investigation could be conducted without family interference. Carol was not fully appraised of Serafin's intention to interrogate her friend for the second time and this time with a sharper purpose.

  Standing erect and confident, the young man shook hands with Serafin and Detective Mathers, a husky, dark-haired man with a prominent moustache. Before any discussion began, Serafin asked Phil to sit down and he explained that he had some questions he wanted to put to him, and that he should be fully aware of his rights, which the detective then related.

  Phil, crossing one leg over another and fidgeting with his fingers, told the two men he had been reading books about pedophilia and crimes of sexual nature. He conjectured that the person they would be looking for had to have had a grudge against his father. He spoke about the psychology of such criminals, pointing out that most of them keep something that belongs to the victim, like a bracelet or a necklace.

  Serafin remembered Dorothy's mentioning a piece of jewelry near where Kathy was found. She had seen it earlier, during one of their first conversations. He wondered if any of Kathy's jewelry was missing.

  Serafin asked Phil where he had been the day of the murder.

  "Everyone thought you were heading here," he said. "Where did you go?"

  "I stayed home," Phil replied. "I couldn't get it together to drive here and back the same day."

  "Why didn't you let anyone know?" Mather inquired, leaning forward in his seat.

  "I don't have to let anyone know," Phil snapped. "These people are my friends. I don't have to explain myself all the time."

  "Right now we'd like you to explain yourself," Serafin said.

  "I'll bet Carol doesn't even know you're talking to me. That's why she's not here, right?" Phil stared at the two men. "If you think I'd do something to her child, you're out of your mind. I can't believe this crap."

  "We may be out of our minds, but it's our job to check into every possibility. I don't think Carol imagines for a second that you're capable of harming her children, at least not like I do. I think you could do it," Serafin challenged him.

  "Murder a kid? You bastards are too much. She may have been too big for her britches sometimes, but I'm a sane man. I know the difference between an adult and a child. Sure, she might have thought she was an adult sometimes, and she needed a smack once in a while ..."

  "How many times have you smacked her?" Mathers asked.

  "Smacked her? Who said I ever hit her?" Phil searched for solid ground.

  "Spanky said you hit them," Serafin said calmly.

  "That little bastard doesn't know what he's talking about How can you listen to a little kid?" Phil asked. "Would you put someone away on a child's testimony? Never. Especially not one who lies all the time." Phil was desperate.

  "If you're so innocent, then go on the box. Let's have an objective look at your reasoning and alibi. That's all I ask," Serafin said.

  Phil thought for a moment, angered and frightened by the accusations. Finally he agreed to the polygraph test, thinking that the Hennessys would make such a fuss when they found out, the test would never be administered.

  When Carol and John heard of the details of the meeting between Phil and Serafin, they were incensed. For days Serafin stayed clear of the Hennessy house, waiting for Carol to cool down before trying to explain his position. In the meantime it was John Hennessy who had to defend his decision to allow the meeting to take place.

  Serafin did meet with Carol and John on the following Wednesday evening. He told the angry woman that he wasn't happy having to pursue channels of thought that placed her friend in an unfavorable light, but he had no choice but to pursue him. He told the parents what Dorothy had seen in her session at Ribner's, describing Phil. But it was when he told the parents that their own son had said that Phil was the "bad man" he had seen with "his friend" that Carol Hennessy broke down in tears.

  The mother was more distraught than she had been at any time since Kathy's burial. That one of her oldest friends was being accused of her child's murder left her speechless. She knew that Phil had psychological problems, but the most she would say to Serafin was that he might need help.

  Serafin then asked if Kathy usually wore any jewelry.

  "Yes. A gold chain," Carol told him. "She always wore the gold chain my parents gave her."

  "Did you find the necklace?" Serafin asked.

  "No, not that I recall." It was John who spoke. "It wasn't on Kathy's body, and when we cleaned out her things, we couldn't find it anywhere. We even checked in Spanky's drawers to see if it had been misplaced, and we found nothing."

  Serafin mentioned that Dorothy had seen a piece of jewelry in her vision of the murder. If the psychic was right, and Serafin's suspicions were accountable, Phil's would be the place to search for the missing necklace.

  Si
nce the meeting with Dorothy and the FBI in the courtroom, the psychic had held to her own belief that the man named David was the murderer. Fitzwilliam agreed with her suspicion. Only Serafin still held to the notion that the family friend might be culpable.

  Phil, clearly agitated and hurt, took the polygraph as planned. But his emotional condition made the entire examination useless. From that point on, Serafin's investigation shifted away from Phil, and there was never any confirmation of Spanky's charge that Phil had beaten Kathy. Nor did Dorothy gather any "psychic evidence" that the accusation was true.

  The day after the exam Spanky appeared holding the gold chain necklace that had belonged to his sister. Where he had found it and how long he had had it, the little boy could not answer. Each imploring question was answered with a frightened shrug. The parents could only hope that he had not found it near his sister's body, as Dorothy had seen.

  At the Hilltop Trailer Park, not a mile from the Hennessy house, David Geary entered the small office of the trailer camp owner, John Waters. Waters, a heavyset, deep-voiced former air force sergeant, had been having problems with the people Geary was living with and had begun the process of eviction. Complaints from neighbors that Geary and his friends were rowdy and noisy till late in the night settled the man's intent to have them off this property. Moreover they owed Waters back rent from several months.

  Waters, bis shirt unbuttoned to the waist, revealing a round bulge of hair, asked the thin-bearded Geary what he wanted.

  "You're going to be getting your money," Geary said. "I'm working now, so cut the eviction crap." Geary had taken a job two weeks before as a cleaning man in a nearby factory.

  "Forget it," Waters huffed. "I'll just keep doing what I was doing. I want you all out of here."

  "I'm gonna punch your fucking face in," Geary moved forward and stopped, just beyond the reach of Waters's heavily muscled arms,

  "You're out of your mind, mister. Get out of my office and off my property. You got no place here," Waters said.

  Geary grabbed his collar. "You son of a bitch, you can't evict us. You got no grounds to complain."

  Waters shoved Geary forward, pinning him against the desk, Geary's back arched like a taut bow.

  "I'm going to cause you a great deal of trouble, Mr. David Geary. You shouldn't have come in here this morning. You will regret it forever," and Waters, letting go of the man, left the office.

  He went directly to the police department, where he was directed to Serafin's office.

  "You know that Geary fellow somebody interviewed me about awhile ago?" Waters stood before Serafin's desk, obviously angry. "Don't you have him as a suspect in that little kid's murder?"

  "Yeah, he's one of the suspects, all right," Serafin leaned back.

  "Well, I want to register a complaint with you. That little bastard tried to attack me this morning," Waters told Serafin. "I think that guy would kill anyone, even a little kid. He told me he'd get me."

  Serafin was excited by the news. Whether or not the man's complaint was totally valid was not important. If they could get Geary behind bars for a couple of days before some judge set a low bail and let him out, they could question him. Serafin told Waters to sit tight for a moment, that he would call the county prosecutor's office and explain the situation.

  Geary was locked up the following day for "threat to kill and assault and battery." The bail was set at $5,000, just high enough to keep him incarcerated for a while.

  Fitzwilliam was glad to hear Geary was in jail. Twice before the suspect had failed the polygraph and had eluded two intense interrogations by his men. This time the FBI man didn't want to lose an opportunity. He called Neil Forte in the county prosecutor's office and asked him to interrogate Geary.

  The following day Neil Forte and his partner, Ed East-wood, spent two hours in the prosecutor's office trying to break Geary's defenses. The suspect fidgeted like a rat in a closed maze. He checked the closet to see if anyone was hiding there, he refused to allow note-taking, he refused to answer questions he didn't want to answer.

  Forte decided after a long round of questioning to let the man return to bis cell for a couple of hours to think over the interrogation. They would meet again that afternoon.

  On the walk back to his cell, Eastwood asked Geary a direct question.

  "Why did you kill the kid?" the detective asked, hoping against hope that an answer would come.

  "I didn't mean to kill her," Geary whispered, looking at the floor, walking down the corridor as if discussing his health.

  Eastwood stopped. "You didn't mean to kill her ...?"

  "I got into her," Geary said. "I didn't want her to die."

  David Geary was sentenced to two life terms on March 7, 1978, what would have been Kathy Hennessy's ninth birthday.

  Dorothy was relieved to hear of Geary's sentence. The Pemberton Police Department awarded her with a badge and made her an official member of the department. Dorothy had been awarded badges from many departments across the country, and she showed visitors her trophies with extreme pride. Serafin had a case made of oak with velvet backing for her badges, which she proudly displayed in her home and on television. The recognition and respect of the police was payment enough for her.

  With another success tucked under her arm, she focused on several other cases she had been working on in Staten Island, Washington State, Minneapolis, and Baltimore.

  It was in July when Dorothy began to get a clearer picture of the surroundings of the missing teen-ager, Gus Karavasalis. She had long ago decided that Gus had been moving around. She came to Baltimore more to be with the parents, who grew to depend on her and her husband for emotional support, than to find their son whom she knew was nowhere in the Baltimore area.

  Under hypnosis she saw twin peaks and a lot of water. She felt that Gus was somewhere in the West. There was a large bridge near him. As she could not discern distances, she could not place how far away the bridge or water were,

  Dorothy told them that the name Paul would play an important role in the case. She reported that Gus was close to fire, was with other Greeks, and was living in an area with hills all around and many bridges. She also saw him in a uniform.

  It was not until November 2 that the family received word that Gus might indeed be alive. One of his former teachers, Paul Radecke, who had moved to California, recognized the teen-ager in a San Francisco coffee shop. Having heard of his disappearance, he wrote to a Baltimore teacher who passed the information along to Gus's parents.

  Alex Karavasalis flew with his mother to San Francisco in search of Gus. Detective Bendetto, who had stayed close to the case for eight months, accompanied them to the West Coast.

  By that time the former teacher had seen Gus a second time and relayed the information to them that he was in Berkeley. Dorothy's clues - that he was near fire and with other Greeks - led them to the Greek restaurant where Gus worked.

  Gus had run away fearing he had dishonored his family and would be sent back to Greece by his father. He had left Baltimore with $40 in his pocket and a bus ticket to Miami. He had found Miami difficult, so he pawned his watch and ring and hitchhiked across the country to San Francisco.

  He was hired as a cook in the Greek restaurant by a man who believed Gus was nineteen. He earned enough money to pay his share of rent where the Greek landlord also believed the fourteen-year-old boy was considerably older.

  His uniform was as Dorothy had described, and the fire was the hot stove over which Gus worked every day. Most importantly Gus was alive and well, and greatly relieved to be returning to his family.

  A joyous celebration was held, which Dorothy and Bob attended as special guests of honor.

  "This was the happiest Thanksgiving of our lives," Gus's mother beamed. "Two hundred fifty-five days his bed was empty. Now it's finally full."

  ~~~~~~~

  Chapter 7

  Memorial Day, 1976

  Dorothy banded the phone to her husband, cupping the receiver.
"Take down the information from this woman," Dorothy whispered. "We're going to her house right now. She lives on Staten Island, wherever in God's territory that is. I'm getting strong feelings from this woman."

  Ellen Jacobson, usually a lively woman, was practically inaudible on the phone. Calling Dorothy Allison had not been her idea, nor did she have any idea what a psychic could do to find her missing fourteen-year-old daughter, Susan.

  But Ellen's sister, June, had heard about the Nutley psychic from a friend and had pressed her to call; in addition, a reporter from the Staten Island Advance had called, giving Ellen Dorothy's phone number through a mother Dorothy had worked with the previous year. The message included the information that "Dorothy was at home" that Memorial Day afternoon.