Hometown Killer

by Carol Rothgeb

  Moody: We talked a little bit earlier before and you said that none of them said anything out of the way. But she looked right at him, didn’t she? And told him, “You’re ugly! Leave me alone!” We know that. Who else did she say stuff to? She had a quick mouth, man.

  Graeber: What’d she say to you?

  Sapp: She didn’t say nothing to me. I don’t know if it was John or Dave—one of them—she called a fucking retard.

  Moody: How’d that make you feel when she made the comment about “retards”? I mean, you got Paul that you care a great deal about and you got J.R. that you care a great deal about. You know what I’m saying? And I’m sure they’ve been called names too.

  Graeber: What were you feeling then—when that came out of her mouth? What are you feeling, Bill? Did you feel dislike for her?

  Sapp: Dislike? No.

  Graeber: What were you feeling, Bill?

  Sapp: Hate.

  Graeber: Hate for who?

  Sapp: For them.

  Moody: What’d you feel for her?

  Sapp: Don’t know.

  Graeber: Yeah, you do, Bill. You’re a real precise person. You know what you felt for her.

  Moody: You knew what you felt when Helen slapped you in the face and talked that trash to you. You know what you felt when Ursula Thompson stole your crack from you and kicked you in the balls. Don’t you? You knew how that felt. This is one more incidence of a woman wronging. . . . You guys are sitting up there. You’re enjoying yourselves. You’re having a few beers. There’s no one getting hurt. Everyone’s laughing and carrying on and she’s got to turn her mouth loose on Jamie—tell him he’s ugly and then turn it on John and call him a “fucking retard.” Now she may as well have spit in their faces or slapped them! You probably would have respected that more.

  Graeber: What were you feeling then, Bill? Come on, buddy.

  Sapp: I don’t know. There wasn’t no feeling.

  Graeber: You were pissed at her, weren’t you? Bill? Weren’t you?

  Sapp: I guess.

  Graeber: No. Were you or weren’t you?

  Sapp: Well, I wasn’t happy.

  Moody: What’d she say to you? Bill, she wasn’t just going to save comments for these two guys. We know. She was a smart-mouthed young woman.

  Sapp: She was foul-mouthed. She wasn’t just smart-mouthed. She wasn’t that little innocent thing people thought she was.

  Moody: And she had a good teacher, didn’t she? Right from her mom! So what’s she say to you, man? When she’s passing around all the foul-mouthed comments, what’s she say to you?

  Sapp: Called us all a bunch of little limp-dick mama’s boys and then hit John. He got hit with a rock!

  Moody: So then . . . the shit’s on, isn’t it?

  Sapp: He got hit by the rock and I said, “I’ll show you. . . .” And they just all gathered around them. While they was falling, all they said was “Are you gonna kill us?” “Ain’t nobody gonna kill y’all!” They said, “What are you gonna do? Just gonna fuck us and let us go?”

  Graeber: What else happened? You’re in a rage, Bill. What else happened? She just insulted your buddies. She just insulted your brothers. And you’re pissed. What happened, buddy? Huh?

  (Sapp just stared straight ahead.)

  Graeber: Hey, Bill! What happened?

  Sapp: They were just taking their clothes off of them. Talking about showing them who the hell’s the limp dicks around here.

  Moody: Did any of the other guys have sexual intercourse with those two—with Phree and Martha? We know you did.

  Sapp: Yeah.

  Moody: Okay. Now you said—you told us something earlier about Martha being on top of Phree. What’s the deal there? Is that true or what?

  Sapp: Yeah. The way they set it up was put them on top of that—that way they didn’t have to—I don’t know, something about getting dirt on you or something. I didn’t much pay attention to all the jibber jabber.

  Moody: What’d you have on your mind?

  Sapp (taking a long time to answer): Showing them who the hell was a limp dick. I finally did manage to do something. I went over and got on top of the other one. She had her ass in the air. . . . Then they . . .

  Graeber: Then they what?

  Sapp: This monster fucking rock, or boulder, or whatever the hell it was . . .

  Moody: Did you pick it up?

  Sapp (looking at Moody): I couldn’t pick that damn thing up. I’m not a weakling, but I couldn’t pick that up. Hell, I’m half inebriated as it is. Kind of hard to be able to pick up a rock when you’re up inside someone.

  Moody (incredulous): You’re having sex with one of them when the rock hits her in the head?

  Sapp: Yeah.

  Moody: Is that what you’re telling us?

  (Sapp nodded yes.)

  Moody: Who dropped the rock on the head when you’re having sex?

  Sapp: Dave. I mean, I thought he was just bullshittin’. I guess not.

  Moody: So, you’re having sex with—and this is the one that called you guys names and threw the rock at John?

  Sapp (staring at the picture): Yeah.

  Moody: So what happened then?

  Sapp: Body tightened up.

  Moody: Whose body?

  Sapp: Hers.

  Graeber: What’d the other girl say when this happened?

  Sapp: I don’t think she was even alive.

  Moody: What were you thinking? Weren’t you worried about being caught? I mean, you took a chance here. What’s going on here? What are you thinking? When this is going on? I mean, is anybody helping you carry those pallets across?

  Sapp: No.

  Graeber: We know someone did.

  Sapp: He’s a good kid. He don’t need to . . . I did it.

  Moody: No. You need to tell us who helped you.

  Sapp: Jimmy Boy.

  Moody: Who?

  Sapp: John.

  Moody: Your ol’ buddy John? John Balser?

  Sapp: Yeah.

  Graeber: Who had the knife, Bill?

  (Sapp didn’t answer. Graeber looked at Moody and gestured toward the cabinet behind Sapp.)

  Graeber: We got some scientific evidence over there?

  Moody: Uh-huh.

  Graeber: Show him that.

  (Moody went over to the cabinet and took out a large paper bag.)

  Sapp: John . . . John had a knife and so did . . .

  (Moody removed an article of clothing from the paper bag and laid it on the table in front of Sapp.)

  Moody: You’ve seen these before, haven’t you?

  (Sapp looked stunned and nodded yes.)

  Graeber: Would that be your name there? Bill? Is that your signature there, buddy?

  Moody: That’s what you called it earlier.

  Lieutenant Moody went over and got Helen’s pants off the top of the cabinet and held them alongside the clothing on the table—the flowered shorts that had been cut almost identically.

  He put Helen’s pants back on the cabinet, and when he returned to the table, he put his hand on the shorts: “That was cut off, Bill,” he said.

  Sapp just stared at the shorts.

  Graeber: What is this? Did you sign this, Bill? Bill? Talk to me, buddy.

  Sapp: I guess.

  Moody and Graeber (simultaneously): No. Don’t guess it!

  Moody: Listen to me here. Let’s talk about this.

  (Sapp leaned forward and touched the shorts.)

  Moody: When this is going on . . . what’s she doing?

  Sapp: Nothing.

  Moody: Why?

  Sapp: Terrified, I guess.

  Moody: Terrified?

  (Sapp shrugged.)

  Moody: Or is she not able to do anything?

  Sapp: No.

  Moody: Were her eyes open? How was she laying?

  Sapp: Yeah, her eyes was open.

  Moody: Well, I’m going to tell you something. She was either unconscious or something—because there’s not a mark on her. You
didn’t even scratch her. When you made this cut here and on down the leg—no scratches—nothing; you did a good job. You’re good with that knife, man.

  (Sapp laughed.)

  Moody: So what’s the deal here? What’s her state?

  Sapp (looking down): Terrified.

  Moody: Is she still alive? What are you saying to her when you’re doing this?

  Sapp (whispering): I didn’t really say nothing.

  Moody: Why? What did the talking for you?

  Sapp (staring at the shorts): The knife.

  Moody (leaning closer to Sapp and lowering his voice): You told me before when we were looking at Helen’s pants, you never did this before. You did this—before you met up with Helen. This happened with Martha and Phree before Helen. This was in August of ’92. Helen was in December of ’93—a year and four months later. What’s going on, man? What are you thinking? What’s this doing for you?

  (Sapp continued to stare at the flowered material.)

  Graeber: Who you getting even with, Bill? Hey, Bill! Who you getting even with, buddy?

  Sapp (whispering): Nobody.

  Moody: This is your thing, isn’t it? This is part of what gets you off.

  (Sapp looked up at Moody.)

  Moody: This is part of the excitement, isn’t it? Right here.

  Sapp: No, not really. . . .

  Moody: Well, let me ask you something: How’d you feel when you were making these cuts and she’s lying there and, in your words, she was terrified? How’d that make you feel?

  Graeber: What’d it do to you, Bill? She’s laying there . . .

  Moody: Terrified! You know, you’ve been called a limp-dick motherfucker.

  Sapp: I guess we all were.

  Moody: Yep. You’re thrown right in there with them. And you showed them that you weren’t a limp-dick motherfucker. And that’s what you said. What’s going on here, man?

  Sapp (whispering): Revenge.

  Graeber: Revenge? Revenge on who?

  Sapp (tormented): The bitch who took my soul—took my life. I never got to be a kid. Hey, they were right—I’d never amount to anything.

  Moody: These are Martha’s shorts, man. Or was Phree wearing them? Or do you know? Who was wearing these—the virgin or the nonvirgin?

  Sapp: Non. (Sapp meant Phree.)

  Moody: Yeah . . . this is where you got your juice. This is what it’s about! She’s lying there terrified and you made these cuts careful enough that you didn’t hurt her. After you cut this away, what’d you do?

  (Sapp didn’t answer.)

  Moody: Bill! Bill! After you got done with this—after you did your thing here . . . what happened then?

  Sapp: I don’t understand what you’re trying to . . .

  Moody: Well, after you got done with all this—what happened then? Pants come off of her?

  Sapp: Yeah.

  Moody: What else came off of her?

  Sapp: Panties.

  Moody: You ain’t kidding! Where’d you cut them?

  Sapp: I cut them?

  Moody (pointing to a place on the shorts): You cut right through here to cut them. So after you got her underwear off of her, what’d you do?

  Sapp: I guess we had—I guess she was raped.

  Graeber: Did you rape her at this time?

  Sapp: All of us did.

  Moody: Did you look in her eyes?

  Sapp: Yeah.

  Moody: What’d that do for you?

  Sapp: I don’t know. It wasn’t terror—it was a lost feeling. It’s the only way you could describe what was in the eyes. Just lost.

  Moody: What’s going on with you when you’re doing this? You’re right back into this meticulous—just taking your time—getting the juice, man.

  Sapp: There is no juice.

  Moody: Aw, man, we’re talking about the vicious assault that you described—just like with Helen—remember that? That anger? You know that anger jumps out there, man. And then it goes from that extreme to . . . (touching the shorts) this extreme—to the slow cutting—cutting down the threads. You know, these shorts are up—cutting across—cutting on down—until it’s wide open. From that explosive anger to this meticulous—controlled—taking care of business. What’s going on?

  (Sapp stared at the shorts with the loose flaps lying open.)

  Moody: You’ve got to help me with this, man. What’s going on with you when you’re doing this? Change chairs with me. Do something! Put me there! What’s going on in your head? What’s this doing for you? Is it a fantasy?

  Sapp (laughing): Yeah, right.

  Moody: Well, what is it? Help me understand.

  Sapp: There is no understanding.

  Moody: There is an understanding and I’ll tell you why: Because there’s been two times I’ve seen this and you’re responsible for both of them! There is understanding, Bill! What’s it about this time? This is the first time you did it! That I know of—I know of at least twice. You told me before you didn’t do it but the one time.

  Graeber (tapping his fingers on the shorts): What is this, Bill? What is it? What do you get out of this? Spit it out, man. What’d you get out of this? Bill?

  (Sapp did not answer.)

  Moody: Let it go, Bill.

  Sapp (finally speaks, agonized): I lost so much. My hopes—my dreams—security—childhood—my children—all that’s sacred—over and over. How’d I lose it? Nobody gave a shit. Something to look forward to when you come home from school . . . How do you tell the man you love (his father) that the woman he married . . . ? It’s not important.

  Graeber: It’s important to us.

  (Once again Sapp removed his glasses and wiped his face.)

  Moody: Where else have you done this?

  (Sapp shook his head no.)

  Moody: Have you done this in Florida? Am I going to have to call Rob down there and them guys down in Jacksonville and say, “Hey!” Am I going to have to look down there?

  (Sapp sat back and put his hands behind his head and shrugged.)

  Sapp: Probably.

  Moody: Where else? Where else here am I going to have to look for things? Maybe not only this (pointing to the shorts), but other things that we’ve got to clean up.

  Sapp: There ain’t nothing else to clean up.

  Moody: See, that’s what you told me earlier.

  Sapp: Well, I knew this was coming around.

  Moody: How’d you know it?

  Sapp: I can see it in the eyes.

  Moody: Well . . . you also know in your heart you can look right in my eyes and know that we’ve still got some unfinished business.

  It was almost midnight on April 2, 1997. They had been talking for over nine hours.

  21

  He sat there with Phree’s shorts . . . with Helen’s pants . . . (rubbing the material) between his index finger and thumb. . . . He was living it again. . . .

  —Captain Steve Moody

  About 9:30 the next morning, Lieutenant Moody brought Sapp a cup of coffee. He was still in the same room where he had been questioned the day before. A bed had been brought in for him to sleep on instead of taking him over to the jail. All of the evidence and pictures had been put away the night before.

  Lieutenant Moody said, “I’ll be right with you”; then he left the room.

  Alone in the room, Sapp laughed hard: “I’m not going anywhere!”

  A few minutes later, Lieutenant Moody and Sergeant Graeber came in and Moody read him his rights again because “there was a break in the action.” Sapp acknowledged that he understood his rights and signed the paper.

  Moody: I guess what’s hard for me to understand is . . . you know that we’ve talked with them. You know that we’ve talked with John. We’ve talked with David. We’ve talked with Jamie. We talked with Alex—the biracial guy. You’re trying to tell us that—and you need to think about this—the first time you ever had any dealings with Jimmy Boy, as you call him, or David, or Jamie, was at that pond that day.