“Mr. Carter?” Jim says. “Would you read the highlighted name, please?”
Carter looks back at the printout. “Nathan Moultrie,” he says.
The courtroom erupts. I see two reporters get up to leave. Moultrie furiously turns pages, searching for his own name on the list. The judge is banging her gavel and for the first time she speaks to the packed courtroom:
“If there is another outburst like that, I’ll clear the courtroom. Mr. Aiken, let me see that list.”
Jim takes the list from Carter and hands it to the judge. She looks at the page and then at Moultrie, who is still flipping pages. He stands.
“Your Honor, this is ridiculous. My name is not on this list.”
“I’m looking at it right here, counsellor,” the judge says.
“May I approach?” Moultrie says. She motions for him to come to the bench. Moultrie walks up and hands the judge his list. As discretely as possible I turn to page eleven of the list in front of me. The copy Moultrie gave to Jim. Moultrie’s name is not on it.
What is Jim trying to pull?
“There seems to be some discrepancy here, Mr. Aiken,” the judge says to Jim. “Would you care to explain?”
“It’s simple, really, Your Honor. I believe my list was generated at a later date than Mr. Moultrie’s. If you will note the fax signature at the top of each page, you will see that my list was transmitted to me from the FBI in Washington last week.”
The judge looks. “So noted. Mr. Moultrie, when was your list obtained from the FBI?”
Moultrie looks to Carter. “Last November, Your Honor,” Carter says, “at the start of this investigation.”
“You may resume your cross-examination of this witness, Mr. Aiken. Step back.”
“Your Honor,” Moultrie protests, “this is absurd. I don’t know how my name got on this list—”
“Mr. Moultrie, how or why your name has come to be on the list doesn’t concern me and is not germane to this case. Now step back, sir.”
“But, Your Honor. I think I should be allowed to explain—”
“Explain what?” the judge asks. “You are not on trial here. And you just admitted you don’t know how your name wound up on the list. Now, I am ordering you to step back and allow defense counsel to resume his cross of the witness.” Moultrie starts to speak, but thinks better of it. He returns to the prosecution table. I look over and catch Tommy staring at me. He quickly looks away.
Jim resumes his questioning of Carter. “So, Mr. Carter, would you assume the Charleston County Solicitor is a pedophile because his name appears on this list?”
“OBJECTION!” Moultrie shouts and almost jumps from his seat.
“Overruled. Sit down, Mr. Moultrie. The witness may answer.”
Carter looks at Moultrie and then at Jim. “No, Mr. Aiken, I would not assume the solicitor is a pedophile just because his name is on this list.”
“Neither would I, Mr. Carter,” Jim says. “Neither would I. Let’s talk about where you found these child pornography magazines. Where in the house were they?”
“In the attic.”
“In the attic? Plastered on the walls in the attic, or what?”
“No, in a box.”
Jim walks over to the exhibit table and puts his hand on the cardboard box Moultrie removed the magazines from. “Was it this box?”
“No, it wasn’t that box, Mr. Aiken.”
“Do you see the box anywhere in the courtroom that you took that day from my client’s home?” Jim pans the room with an outstretched arm.
“No, I believe that box was thrown away.”
“Thrown away? Why?”
“The bottom fell out of it.”
“Why did the bottom fall out?”
“Because it was so old. The tape had dry-rotted.”
“The tape had dry-rotted. So the box was sealed? With tape?”
“Yes.”
“And it appeared to have been sealed with tape for quite some time?”
“Yes, years I would say.”
“Was there any writing on the outside of the box?”
“Yes.”
“And what was it?”
Moultrie refers to his notes. “The box had written in black ink, Research materials for dissertation, 1979-81.”
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Carter, that all of the pedophile literature and child pornography you found was in that box, and all these items were from the late 70s and early 80s?”
“Yes.”
“So, given what was written on the box and the nature of Dr. Erskine’s doctorate, did you not conclude that he had these materials for research purposes, a legitimate reason?”
“Mr. Aiken, under the law there is no legitimate reason for the possession of child pornography. I was investigating an alleged case of child abuse and I felt the presence of these materials in the defendant’s home was pertinent.”
“Mr. Carter, who is in possession of the child pornography now?”
“The Charleston County Sheriff’s Department.”
“Is the Sheriff’s Department in violation of the law by possessing child pornography?”
“No, Mr. Aiken.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it is evidence in a criminal case.”
“So then, you do have a legitimate reason, under the law, for possessing child pornography?”
“Yes, we do.”
“So your previous statement that under the law there is no legitimate reason for possessing child pornography was inaccurate, was it not?”
“I suppose so.”
Jim walks over and picks up two of the magazines. “Did you notice these numbers imprinted inside the back cover of each of the magazines containing explicit sex?”
“I noticed them, yes.”
“Were you not curious as to what they were?”
“I assumed I knew what they were, Mr. Aiken.”
“Oh? Tell us, please.”
“Pedophiles like to catalog their collections. Sometimes they have an elaborate classification system—coded, usually, to some fantasy or actual experience. I assumed that’s what those numbers were.”
“But the numbers are not in any of the non-pornographic magazines. How did you account for that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he just catalogued the pornography.”
“So only the items that have these numbers stamped inside the back cover contain depictions of explicit sex, and these were found in the box in the attic. Is that correct?”
“Yes. So?”
“So the items with numbers that were in the box in the attic are the illegal items, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing illegal was found in Dr. Erskine’s study, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you read Dr. Erskine’s Ph.D. dissertation, Mr. Carter?”
“I skimmed it.”
“What was its subject matter?”
“Teenage prostitution, boy prostitution to be specific. And sexual relationships between men and boys.”
“You skimmed his dissertation, no doubt, because it is quite lengthy, no?”
“It’s long.”
Jim walks over and picks up the bound copy of my dissertation—all 533 pages—from the exhibit table. He hands it to Carter. “Would you read the title page, please?”
Carter opens the book and reads: “Eros Defiled: An investigation into male intergenerational intimacy, focusing on the psycho-sexual aspects of consenting boys.” Carter looks up. “I guess that’s the title,” he says.
“It is, but please read the rest of the page.”
“By Glen Michael Erskine, B.A., M.S., Psy.D. A dissertation submitted to the Faculty of Psychology at the University of Stellenbosch in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. May 5, 1981.”
“Fifteen years ago?” Jim says.
“Almost,” Carter replies.
“Please turn to the last two pages of the appe
ndix, all the way in the back, pages five-sixteen and five-seventeen,” Jim says.
Carter opens the book to the back. He scans the page—the letter—even before Jim tells him to do so. He looks up at Moultrie with a perfect “we’ve blown it” expression on his face.
“Are you looking at page five-sixteen, Mr. Carter?”
“Yes.”
“And what is that page of Dr. Erskine’s dissertation?”
“It appears to be a letter from the police department of the City of Philadelphia...dated April 4, 1980.”
“Would you like to summarize the letter for us, please?”
Carter looks down at the page. “It basically says that Dr. Glen Erskine notified the Philadelphia police of the nature of his investigation into...let’s see...sexual relationships between men and boys...and boy prostitution in the inner city. It states that Dr. Erskine informed the police department that in the course of his research for his doctorate he had accumulated explicit child pornography and asked that said materials be registered with the police department...”
Carter stops and looks up at Moultrie.
“Go on,” Jim says, “what does the letter state as the reason for Dr. Erskine’s request?”
Carter clears his throat and looks back at the page. “...that said materials be registered with the police department should any question ever be raised concerning the reason for his possession of such materials. The letter states that the materials were registered and marked by the Philadelphia police department and a list of the registered materials is attached and is on record with the City of Philadelphia.” Carter turns the page. “It appears that page five-seventeen is a list of the registered materials.” He turns back to the letter. “The letter is signed by the Chief of Police.”
“And what does the CC notation say under his signature?”
Moultrie looks down at the letter. He clears his throat. “It indicates a copy of the letter was sent to the federal attorney’s office in Philadelphia.”
“Thank you,” Jim says and takes my dissertation back over to the exhibit table. “Now that we’ve taken care of that,” he says, brushing his hands together, “let’s talk about the real evidence that you found at the scene of the alleged crime in my client’s home.”
“Alright,” Carter says.
Jim moves over to the jury. “Earlier, Tommy testified that he spat semen onto the floor of the guestroom in which my client allegedly abused him. In your search of my client’s home, did you find any semen stains on the carpeting in that room?”
“No.”
“How well did you look?”
“We didn’t just look, Mr. Aiken. We went over that room with high intensity ultraviolet light. There were no semen stains on the carpet.”
“Was there any evidence that the carpet had been shampooed since the night of the alleged incident?”
“No.”
“What direct evidence—other than Tommy’s accusation—does the sheriff’s office have to implicate my client in this crime?”
Carter looks clearly uncomfortable at the position he is in. He looks to Moultrie, hoping for an objection, no doubt. But the solicitor is silent.
“Mr. Carter?” Jim says. “Do you need me to repeat the question?”
“No, Mr. Aiken. We didn’t recover any evidence at the defendant’s home that would directly tie him to the crime.”
“None?”
“Nothing. All we have is the boy’s accusation.”
“How many of the other residents at New Horizons did you question about Dr. Erskine?”
“All of them.”
“And what was the nature of the questions you asked?”
“Objection, Your Honor. This is irrelevant,” Moultrie says.
“I disagree,” Jim says. “The solicitor opened this door, Your Honor. He hasn’t mentioned what the other residents of the group home had to say about my client because it doesn’t fit his case. We can clear this up now,” Jim turns to Moultrie, “or I’ll bring every single one of those boys into this courtroom to testify as character witnesses for my client.”
“Your objection is overruled, Mr. Moultrie. Proceed, Mr. Aiken.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. Carter, what was the nature of the questions you asked the boys at New Horizons?”
Carter clears his throat. “Basically...if Dr. Erskine had ever behaved in an inappropriate manner with any of them.”
“And by ‘inappropriate,’ you meant ‘sexual,’ correct?”
“Yes.”
“You asked them all specifically and in detail about any sexual advances or contacts by Dr. Erskine?”
“That is correct.”
“And what did they say?
“That Dr. Erskine had never done anything of the kind.”
“Every boy at New Horizons told you the same thing, did they not?”
“They did.”
“You contacted former residents of the home as well, did you not?”
“We did.”
“Asked them the same questions?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“We got the same answers.”
“So you couldn’t find a single current or former resident of New Horizons who said that Dr. Erskine had ever touched them in an inappropriate manner, correct?”
“That is correct.”
“Thank you, Mr. Carter. I have no further questions, Your Honor.”
The judge looks to Moultrie. “Re-direct, Mr. Moultrie?”
“Yes, Your Honor, thank you.” He walks to the dock. “Mr. Carter, in your years of investigating child abuse cases have you not had victims—even very young victims—who were reluctant to tell what happened? Who denied that anything had happened? Even when the accused had already admitted to the crime?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it possible then, that even though all the boys at New Horizons denied any sexual contact with the defendant, some may have had sex with him, and because of trust or loyalty or fear, denied it?”
“Objection, Your Honor.” Jim stands. “This entire line of questioning is outrageous. The solicitor is impugning the character and credibility of every resident of that group home and none of them are here to refute his insinuation.”
“I agree, Mr. Aiken.” The judge turns to Moultrie. “You are really pushing the limit, counsellor.”
“I withdraw the question, Your Honor, and have nothing further.”
“Not so fast, Mr. Moultrie,” the judge says.
“Your Honor?”
“I want you to make a public apology to the boys you just insulted.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Mr. Aiken was right. Your own witness testified that every one of those boys out at New Horizons said Dr. Erskine had never done anything inappropriate to them. Now with these questions to Mr. Carter, you imply that some—maybe all—of them were not truthful. Now maybe we just misunderstood you. Maybe you didn’t really mean that at all. Is that correct? Do you catch my drift, Mr. Moultrie?”
“Uh...yes, Your Honor, I think I do. I apologize to the court and to the residents of New Horizons. It was not my intention to imply that any of those boys were less than honest in their statements. If they say Dr. Erskine never did anything inappropriate, we accept that, Your Honor.”
“Thank you, Mr. Moultrie...a very gracious retreat, sir. Mr. Carter, thank you for your testimony, you are excused. Mr. Moultrie, I believe you have one more witnesses for the prosecution, is that correct?”
“Yes, Your Honor. But I must inform the court that he is quite ill and is not up to testifying today.”
“Well, I was going to suggest that we adjourn for the day, anyway,” the judge says. “You can start off with your final witness in the morning.” Judge Booker raises her gavel. “We are adjourned until 9 A.M. tomorrow.”
Chapter 18
The Ghost of Christmas Past
“The State calls William Tyne,” Moultrie says. I turn to look
for my former research assistant. The shadow I see enter the courtroom looks nothing like him. With the aid of a cane, he walks slowly down the aisle. Moultrie opens the gate and Bill steps through and then over to the witness stand. It is painful to watch him struggle up the single step. He looks a hundred years old.
“Please raise your right hand,” the clerk says. Bill leans his cane against the rail and complies. “Do you swear or affirm the testimony you are about to give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do,” Bill says, with a thin, dry voice. He almost falls into the seat. Moultrie approaches his witness.
“Please state your name for the record and spell your last name.”
“William Tyne, T-Y-N-E.”
“Where do you live, Mr. Tyne?”
Bill coughs. “I live in Providence, Rhode Island.”
“And do you know the defendant,” Moultrie points to me, “Dr. Glen Erskine?”
“I know him. He was my professor at the University of Pennsylvania.”
“When was that?”
“Almost sixteen years ago...when I did my master’s.”
“But you were more than Dr. Erskine’s student, were you not?”
“I was his research assistant for two years...while he was working on his Ph.D from Stellenbosch University in South Africa.” Bill lapses into a protracted coughing spell. He removes a handkerchief from his coat pocket to catch the phlegm. “I’m sorry,” he says and wipes his mouth, “I’ve been sick.”
“That’s quite alright, Mr. Tyne.”
I nudge Jim. “What do you think is wrong with him?” I whisper.
Jim picks up the pencil in front of me and writes four letters on his legal pad: AIDS.
“Would you like to tell us a little about yourself, Mr. Tyne?” Moultrie says next.
Bill’s movements are in slow motion as he replaces the handkerchief in his pocket. “I’m thirty-seven years old. I’m gay. And I’m dying.” There is some stirring in the courtroom.
“Tell us why you have come all the way from Rhode Island in your condition to testify at this trial.”
“Because I don’t want Glen Erskine to get away with this again.”
“You have information you feel is pertinent to this trial?” Moultrie asks.
“I do. I know for a fact Glen Erskine is a pedophile and has had sex with boys.”
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