Fat Face started to rise, but the “Bring it!” look from Swift slammed him back down.
“Not one of those charges was ever prosecuted,” the detective continued.
“Do you know why?” Swift asked.
“I don’t know as in ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’ know, but it’s common knowledge in the department that the DA’s Office won’t take a case unless we bring in a notarized confession, or such a mountain of evidence that they know they can’t possibly lose.”
“I have to object, Your Honor,” Fat Face said. “This man is in no position to state what is ‘common knowledge’—he’s hardly a Gallup Poll.”
Swift responded with a simple “My apologies to the court. May I rephrase?”
Another nod from the bench.
“Detective Lancer, in case it is not clear to all, when you say ‘common knowledge,’ are you speaking of what is common knowledge in this whole community … or are you referring to what is common knowledge within the police department?”
“The department.”
Swift made a “Well?” gesture … and got no takers, not Fat Face, not the judge, either.
“Now, Detective, you can only make an arrest when a crime is committed in your presence or when there’s been a complaint, isn’t that correct? So, if, say, this Cameron Taft raped a hundred minors, and only seven of them came forward, you would only be able to arrest him on those seven complaints?”
“That’s right.”
“Your Honor, I must object. Cameron Taft is not here to defend himself against such accusations.”
“I believe counsel has confused a hypothetical question—one which the witness is eminently qualified to answer in his capacity as a veteran police officer—with an accusation,” Swift answered.
Once again, the judge endangered his comb-over.
“Did you question Cameron Taft, or did he request an attorney?”
“He never asked for a lawyer, not once. I think he liked playing the game.”
“The game?” Swift asked innocently.
“Sociopaths love to taunt, and Taft was a real beauty at it. He actually confessed more than once, but he made sure he only did it with little hints. Gestures, smirks. He’d make sure I knew he’d done the rapes, and that I couldn’t do a damn thing about them.”
“Your Honor, Detective Lancer may be an expert in police work, but he’s hardly qualified to make a psychiatric diagnosis.”
“May I inquire further?” Swift asked, politely.
Getting the nod again, he asked, “Detective, if you were to remove the word ‘sociopath’ from what you just said, is there another word you would substitute?”
“Sure,” Lancer said.
“And that word would be?”
“ ‘Dirtbag,’ ” Lancer answered, without changing expression.
Fat Face started to rise, then sat down quick, as if the twittering of the jury was a flock of crows headed for his eyes.
“So would it be a fair statement that a local school student familiar with the reputation of Tiger Ko Khai might believe that going to the police would be a futile act?”
“Yes.”
For those girls, I thought, the whole town was nothing but a collection of “les collaborateurs,” the kind that Luc had hated with such fierceness. And now my sacred duty is to hate them, too. But, like so many of my thoughts over so many years, none of that reached my face, or my eyes.
Fat Face was on his feet before Swift sat down.
“Officer, you understand you’re under oath?”
“Yes,” Lancer said, just short of rolling his eyes.
“Is it your statement, under oath, that this office—that is, the Office of the District Attorney—will not prosecute a case unless assured of a guilty verdict?”
“It’s my belief, based on my experience on the force. I’ve been a cop probably ten times longer than you’ve been a deputy DA, so I’ve had plenty of time to develop that belief.”
“Ah. So you admit that you can’t prove a single word you said during your testimony?”
“Prove? I guess I’ll never know, will I? If I make an arrest, and your office doesn’t prosecute, I don’t have a crystal ball—I can’t ‘prove’ what the outcome of any prosecution would be. But I remember a book we all had to read when we first came on the job. Sex Crimes, it was called. About the original Special Victims Bureau in New York. Anyway, one line I remember was something like this: ‘Show me a DA with a perfect conviction record, and I’ll show you a DA who cherry-picked his cases.’ ”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Fat Face demanded, determined as always to make things worse for his side.
“To me, it meant that if you want a perfect conviction record you only prosecute the cases you can’t lose. Your office must certainly believe that itself. I’ve testified in God knows how many cases, and the only time I’ve ever been briefed was in the elevator on the way up to the courtroom.”
“Your Honor!”
“What?” the judge snapped.
“I … Withdrawn. Officer, do you know anything about this case? The one we are trying right here?”
“No.”
“Your Honor, I move to strike the witness’s entire testimony on the grounds that it is totally irrelevant to the case at bar.”
“Mr. Swift?” the judge said.
“Your Honor, I believe the relevancy of Detective Lancer’s testimony is already proven and clearly apparent. However, if the defense fails to show the relevance of Detective Lancer’s testimony before we rest our case, I will not oppose the prosecutor’s motion. I ask only that this court accept Detective Lancer’s testimony on a ‘subject to connection’ basis. We called him out of order because he has to leave tomorrow for special FBI training in complex sex-crimes investigation. The training will be in Quantico, Virginia, literally on the other side of the country.
“If Your Honor wishes, I can put on a string of witnesses, all of whom will testify that this training is highly coveted, and if a police officer is invited and does not show up, his slot will be filled by an alternate. And that it might be another ten years before this opportunity comes around to our police department again. Furthermore—”
“The testimony of this witness is deemed admissible,” the judge cut him off. “But only subject to connection.”
Fat Face sat down like he’d just won a major victory. His enthusiasm didn’t seem contagious—none of the other three prosecutors even acknowledged his existence.
T.D.’s credentials were not challenged—even Fat Face realized how he’d look walking into the same trap twice. But T.D. spun Swift’s opening question into a kidney punch Fat Face never saw coming.
“Doctor, have you ever been consulted on a so-called school-shooting case?”
“Yes, I have.”
“More than once?”
“Yes.”
“Can you give the jury an example?”
“Columbine,” T.D. said. The audience suddenly went as quiet as an empty church.
“What was your role in the aftermath of that horror?”
“I was asked to perform what is called a ‘psychological autopsy’ of the shooters, and to advise on how further such events could be prevented.”
“Do you see any similarities between Columbine and the acts we have already conceded that MaryLou McCoy committed?”
“None,” Dr. Joel said, absolutely flat.
“Could you elaborate, please?”
“In brief, Columbine was a classic example of folie à deux. A kind of negative gestalt.”
“Doctor, with all due respect, I’m having a little difficulty following you. I’m not familiar with the terminology of your profession.”
None of us are, Swift was saying, “us” meaning him and the jurors.
“Columbine was launched by two deeply disaffected and disturbed individuals, who spent endless hours planning and plotting what they intended to do. They sent all kinds of messages, all of which were ignored. They
even made videos of what they planned … as a school project.
“The killers were marginalized, bullied, and looked upon as freaks by the other students. Each slight, each slur, each humiliation only fueled the fire inside the two of them, two fires which eventually merged into one.
“They entered that school with the sole intent of killing as many people as possible. They never intended to escape; they intended to die. And they wanted to write their suicide note in the blood of those they believed had been their tormentors.
“Compare that fact pattern to MaryLou McCoy, and nothing matches up. MaryLou was never bullied. In fact, she was not only well known throughout her school, but treated as one of its crown jewels. Her athletic achievements were known throughout the state. And beyond. The school was proud of her; the town was proud of her—and they had every reason to be.
“MaryLou had no ‘plan’ of any kind. She not only acted alone, she acted with the impulsiveness of a very young and immature person who perceived she had no other choice. She did not intend to commit suicide. She did not attempt either concealment or escape. In fact, she literally had no idea of what would happen next. This was no ‘school shooting,’ as the term is generally used; it was a shooting which took place within a school. That is the extent of any ‘similarity.’ ”
“Your Honor.” Fat Face jumped up. “Move to strike all the testimony on Columbine as beyond the scope of this case.”
“What?” the judge said, incredulously. “Dr. Joel has been qualified as an expert. His comparison of the events in question to Columbine is certainly not only relevant, not only within the scope of his expertise, but also based on actual, personal knowledge. And, counsel, remember, it was your office that introduced the topic of so-called school shootings.”
Swift didn’t wait for Fat Face to sit down. “Dr. Joel, did you have occasion to speak personally with any of the witnesses who’ve already testified here?”
“I did more than that. I did a full assessment of Danielle McCoy, including an interview.”
“Can you summarize that for us?”
“Danielle is fully as psychopathic as Cameron Taft,” he said, and then slid into the rest of his analysis before Fat Face could open his mouth to object. “She is pathologically self-absorbed, utterly without empathy, and capable of assuming whatever persona she believes will get her what she wants. And, for Danielle, what she wants is all that matters.”
“So that’s what a psychopath is, Doctor?”
“Among other things. Danielle has also mastered the dark arts of deceit and manipulation. She is incapable of feeling remorse, no matter what damage she may have done to others. She is so hyper-focused on herself and her needs that, quite literally, nothing else matters.
“Some believe the diagnosis of ‘psychopath’ cannot be made unless and until the subject is at least eighteen years of age. But, given that Danielle has already skipped two grades, and is highly intelligent, I feel comfortable with that diagnosis in her case.”
“Are you saying Danielle is a pathological liar, Doctor?”
“Absolutely not. She is an expert liar, not a pathological one. That is, Danielle does not feel a compulsion to lie. For her, lying is simply a tool. If the truth would help her achieve any of her desires, she would tell the truth.”
“Well, didn’t she testify that MaryLou shot Cameron Taft because MaryLou was jealous of her?”
“She did.”
“Do you believe she was telling the truth?”
“I do.”
“What?!” Swift stepped back, as if shocked.
“She was telling the truth. But only in the sense that her self-absorption is so overwhelming that she believed what she was saying. Were her statements actual truth? Of course not.”
“Can you … explain that for us, Doctor?”
“Certainly. I have conducted extensive interviewing of MaryLou McCoy as well as reviewed—”
“Why would you do that, Doctor? Interview MaryLou, I mean.”
“Because you hired me to determine if she was insane at the time she shot and killed Cameron Taft.”
“And …?”
“And she was not. MaryLou McCoy was not insane before, during, or after the event.”
“Did you learn anything else, Doctor?”
“I did. And all of it was confirmative of my diagnosis of Danielle.”
“How so?”
“MaryLou believed Danielle. She not only believed what Danielle told her, she believed in Danielle as a person. When she found out that Danielle was hanging out with Cameron Taft and his gang—”
“Objection! No evidence has been presented that the victim was a member of any gang.”
“Subject to connection,” the judge said, before Swift could respond.
“The name of the gang to which you refer, Doctor?”
“Tiger Ko Khai.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, sir. Although it’s such a beautiful place I sure wouldn’t mind retiring here.”
“Objection! Where Dr. Joel plans to retire is not—”
“Strike the witness’s last statement,” the judge said, thereby emphasizing it, just as T.D. had told Swift would happen.
“All right, Doctor, if you’re not from around here, how could you know about this gang?”
“Because Danielle told me all about it. She called it a ‘special society’ which had to be secretive about its inner workings because everyone wanted to be a member, and its exclusivity must be maintained. She described the unique jackets that only the gang could wear, even the tattoos they all must have.
“All this information was delivered in a triumphant, boastful manner. Danielle has converted a gang rape into an ‘initiation’ because her core personality could not tolerate the thought of her being a ‘victim.’ In her mind, that was not the role she was born to play.”
“But MaryLou was not aware—?”
“MaryLou had no idea that Danielle had been gang-raped. But when she found out that Danielle was spending time with this gang, she knew what was coming, and reacted the only way she knew how.”
“Which was?”
“She beat up her younger sister. And warned her if she went near Tiger Ko Khai again she’d get it worse.”
“You say ‘the only way she knew how,’ Doctor. Surely, there were other avenues open to MaryLou.”
“Not in her mind. MaryLou is physically gifted, but of only average intelligence. Danielle was much smarter, so it was easy for her to get MaryLou to believe that she was ‘hanging out’ with that gang … instead of being systematically raped by them.
“To MaryLou, hanging out with Tiger Ko Khai meant that gang rape was inevitable. She’d heard the stories, from a great number of sources. So going to social-work agencies, or even to the police, simply never occurred to her. She didn’t want anything more than to prevent that gang from doing what she believed it was sure to do.
“MaryLou was undoubtedly in some sort of fugue state when she went to school that day. She knew what she was going to do, and she knew why, but it would have been as if nothing else existed outside that tiny little tunnel in her mind.”
“But by that time—”
“By that time, Danielle had already been ‘raped into’ Tiger Ko Khai. She presented to MaryLou only as a potential victim, but she actually viewed herself as a special princess.”
“Presented?”
“It’s another way of saying how she would appear. To others, and to herself. Those are not always the same. Danielle wasn’t fooled into believing she had to be gang-raped as an ‘initiation.’ That was a story she made up, composed of half-truths she had previously experienced only as rumors, as well as her own need to be that ‘star’ she was in her own mind.
“To Danielle, being gang-raped was meaningless, just another of a long series of events she had experienced in her life that she had ruthlessly purged from her own mind, or converted into another thing entirely. But being lu
mped in with those ‘ugly’ girls, the undesirable ones—that her personality could not tolerate.”
“Did MaryLou understand this? Any of this?”
“No. No, she did not. She had neither the training nor the experience to even imagine such a thing. In MaryLou’s mind, that fateful Friday was her last chance to protect her baby sister. She—MaryLou, I mean—was leaving the next Monday for summer softball camp.
“She would be gone for a long time, maybe forever. Her home life was a misery, and her only friends were other athletes. She knew she couldn’t count on either her mother or her father to protect Danielle. Her conscience would not allow her to tell Franklin—the young man who testified earlier—because she was certain he would respond in such a way as to guarantee his own imprisonment.
“The same conscience told her that she couldn’t leave town unless she had permanently protected Danielle from being used as a toy by Cameron Taft.”
“Your Honor!”
“Within the province,” Swift cut in. “An expert may give opinion evidence. The doctor can certainly testify to the state of mind of an individual he has intensively interviewed.”
“Overruled,” the judge said, not moving his head.
“Let’s say it in plain English, Doctor. Is it your testimony that Danielle was never really ‘in danger’ from Tiger Ko Khai? Is it your testimony that Cameron Taft was a charming psychopath who thought he had already ‘played’ one of his own kind? Someone just as empty of human emotion, but not as skilled in using that quality to get what they wanted?”
“Yes. In a few more years, he would have been no match for Danielle. But by that time, Danielle wouldn’t have bothered to look in his direction. Cameron Taft may have been a prize for a girl just past puberty, but once she grew to ‘legal’ age, he would have been dumped on the scrapheap of Danielle’s past.”
“So it was all a lie? Cameron was no threat to Danielle at any time?”
“No,” he said sadly. “If there was an apex predator in this whole disgusting chain of exploitation, it was Danielle, not Cameron Taft.”
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