Death by Bactine?

by Diane Dimond

How did 16 year old honor roll student Annie McCann die? Her parents have been agonizing over that heart wrenching question for too long. Definitive answers have been few but these determined parents refuse to give up asking.

On October 31, 2008 Annie left a note in her bedroom which mentioned suicide but she had also added the hope-filled line, “But I realized I can start over instead. . . . If you really love me, you’ll let me go.” Then, she inexplicably ran away, taking $1,000 in cash, jewelry and the family Volvo. It was a shock to Dan and Mary Jane McCann whose daughter was a devout Catholic, quiet and studious – a child who had never given them any trouble.

Two excruciating days later the McCann’s got a phone call informing them Annie’s body had been found at a housing project in Baltimore, Maryland about seventy miles from their home. They were dumbfounded.

The Maryland medical examiner ultimately declared Annie’s death was due to Lidocaine poisoning and concluded she had ingested the bottle of Bactine she carried to treat her newly pierced ears. The company that makes Bactine, along with a well-known medical examiner, Dr. Michael Baden, would both later declare that drinking one bottle would never be fatal.

After reviewing the autopsy and other reports prominent psychiatrist Dr. Keith Ablow concluded, “It strains the imagination … to believe that a person intent on dying would choose this obscure and extremely uncertain method of attempting to take her life.”

While the official cause of Annie’s death is still listed as “undetermined” Baltimore P.D. spokesman Anthony Guglielmi (right) told me this week, “Police believe it was a suicide.” Translated: While the case is listed as “pending” it might as well be closed.

The McCann’s hired a private detective to figure out how Annie – who always had a lousy sense of direction and hadn’t been driving that long – got all the way to Baltimore. P.I. Jimmy Kontsis followed the lead of a fingerprint found on the window of the McCann’s recovered car. That led to a group of local teens who admitted one of their group, a kid named D.J., had stolen the McCann’s car. But each of them insisted Annie was already dead in the back seat so they tossed her body and took a joyride. Police said they could find no evidence to charge them in Annie’s death and auto theft charges were never pursued either.

Noting that Annie’s autopsy remarked on, “fresh injuries to her face and head,” Dr. Baden suggested Annie might have died from homicidal suffocation. Was she victimized for the $1,000 she took with her? Police made note of Annie’s clean white socks but could never find her shoes. Might they have been left at the same place she ingested the Lidocaine?

That’s the mystery!” Kontsis told me. “Even the police were, like, Lidocaine? They didn’t get it either.” Drug addicts have been known to try to smoke Lidocaine but Annie never experimented with drugs. Classmates called her sheltered and naïve.

Kontsis canvassed people at spots where Annie had been – her church, a Virginia Costco, even a pastry shop in the Little Italy section of Baltimore. He discovered a consistent description of an older, apparently homeless Hispanic woman (left) seen speaking with Annie at all three locations. A sketch of the mystery woman (who claimed to be from Honduras and was seeking immigration information) brought in no helpful information.

And then, last November the teenager known as D.J. – real name Darnell Kinlaw, now 21, — was arrested in Baltimore for murdering a woman and stealing her car. It was revealed that Kinlaw’s extensive police record lists eight charges of auto theft. Annie’s parents figured it was the perfect time to get more information from Kinlaw about the day their daughter died.

The McCanns travelled to meet Baltimore police and while they were treated politely they feel they have been lied to and ignored. Police say they are sympathetic but maintain they’ve already conducted a thorough investigation.

Look, maybe Annie McCann did manage to get a stash of Lidocaine and poisoned herself. But, that seems unlikely and after researching this case and counting up the loose ends – the odd trip to Baltimore, the missing money, the mystery woman and Kinlaw’s past – I can’t help but feel that in the absence of concrete evidence Annie’s half-used Bactine bottle gave police a convenient reason for her death. Easier to declare it a suicide and move on.

Left in the wake of that decision are Dan and Mary Jane McCann who cannot find peace. They still wonder why they never got Annie’s clothes back and why no one will tell them whether she had been raped the day she died.

The sad fact is there are countless families mourning the loss of their murdered children every day in America. They are Black, Hispanic, Asian and, in the case of Annie McCann – White. Their tears are all the same color.

In the end, it really isn’t race or ethnic background that matters when a child is murdered. It is the feeling families often get that no one cares enough to find the truth – that there will be no justice – that hurts so much.

Maybe our overburdened, understaffed police departments can find some way to work on making families feel more included in the heart-breaking process of homicide investigation.

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A History of Violence

 by Kathryn Casey

"As a close family member to the killer, in his defense the act he committed was and is not expected. We tried to get him help but as a grown man there is only so much a person can do to help someone. Now he has destroyed so many people’s lives. Our hearts do go out to the other families. We have never been on this side of the law, and we have so much mixed emotions. Ralph has a lot of good in him. It's shocking to many people that knew Ralph that he would do this, but he is sick and he hide it well. And yes, the laws should be different to protect anyone. Ours prayers go to the two young girls now left without a mother."

The above comment was under a March 9th piece on an Albuquerque, N.M., television station Web site. The news article above it was titled: UNM mourns Murder Victims. UNM is the University of New Mexico, and the victims being mourned were long-time English professor Hector Torres (photo above), a popular, soft-spoken educator with a good sense of humor who enjoyed the occasional beer with friends, and Stefania Gray (photo below right), a 43-year-old high school teacher, a graduate student and the mother of two daughters. The author of the comment identified him or herself only as a guest to the site.

First some background: Torres and Gray were found slain in Torres's Albuquerque apartment a day earlier, March 8th. Accused of the crime is Gray’s former boyfriend, Ralph Montoya (photo below left), 37. According to an Associated Press article, Montoya turned himself into his attorney the day after the murders, confessing to the crimes. He told police where to find the bodies. The kicker is that Montoya has a long history of violence toward women.

For more than a decade, Las Cruces and Rio Rancho women filed complaints against Montoya. In 1995, the charges were stalking, assault, attempted arson, and attempted breaking and entering. The complainant was a student at New Mexico State University, and Montoya pleaded guilty. His punishment: probation. Three years later, another Las Cruces woman swore out a restraining order against Montoya, charging that he had harassed her for months, making up to 20 threatening calls a day. Particularly eerie, there’d been sightings of him at her apartment window.

Then in 2005, another woman charged that Montoya harassed her after they dated only briefly.

 

What seems obvious here is that Montoya didn’t take it well when a woman broke off a relationship. This isn’t a case where his victims didn’t follow through, where they failed to pursue their options. The women did what they could, filing police reports and getting restraining orders. So did Stefania Gray, little more than a month before her murder.

On January 28th, Montoya allegedly followed Gray to Torres’ apartment, pushing his way inside. Gray attempted to flee, but Montoya pushed and kicked her, pulling a knife. It was Torres who talked to Montoya, convincing him to leave. In response, Gray detailed the attack in a restraining order she obtained. She didn’t hold back, admitting she feared her ex-boyfriend, that she worried he could kill her and her children, perhaps also take vengeance against Torres. Days later, Montoya was charged with kidnapping, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, aggravated assault on a household member and aggravated burglary.

Not long ago, I wrote about the Yeardly Love murder, stressing how important it is for women to carry through with filing reports, going to the police, telling others when they've been threatened. This is the opposite circumstance. These women, including Gray, did what they were supposed to do: they identified the danger and alerted authorities. But in this case, like too many others, it didn't save lives. Why? The system let Gray down. The tragedy is that on the string of charges listed above, even with his violent history, Montoya was assessed a $100,000 bond, which meant he needed only $10,000 to be released from jail. Free to carry out his threats, on March 9 Montoya allegedly murdered Torres and Gray.

Does this case change my opinion? Should targets of abuse and/or threats keep quiet rather than alert authorities? No. It's important to form a paper trail. Gray did the right thing. The blame lies with those who released Montoya to walk the streets, and, it appears, made no attempt to protect Gray and Torres. Montoya is now being held on a $2 million bond, but why did it take two murders for this man, who was known to be dangerous, to get law enforcement's full attention?

What also caught my eye about this case was the above comment from one of Montoya’s family members. "It's shocking to many people that knew Ralph that he would do this, but he is sick and he hide it well." The person who wrote the post also says: "We tried to get him help but as a grown man there is only so much a person can do to help someone."

I only know the little bit I’ve read about this case. I don’t know if Montoya is truly mentally ill or simply unable to take no for an answer, to let a girlfriend who rebuffs him walk away. I'm inclined to believe it's the latter, but if Montoya is mentally ill, does his condition fit the legal definition of insanity? Should his mental health mitigate his alleged crimes? Those are questions for a judge and jury to answer.

The facts of this specific case aside, what is indisputable is that it is too hard for families to get help for loved ones suffering from mental illness. Laws intended to help the mentally ill are backfiring, and good people like Stefania Gray and Hector Torres are paying the price.

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Love Letters, Flowers and Bullets

by Diane Fanning

Julie Abbott loved rock music, great novels and her bright red convertible.  It seemed as if everyone loved the 47-year-old physician with an uncommon intensity: the patients as well as the other doctors and staff in her internal medicine practice, the parishioners at Community Bible Church and, most of all, her husband Ben Abbott.

 

Julie and Ben fell in love decades ago, while making angels in the snow on the campus of Texas Tech University.  They'd been happily married for 28 years.

Nearly everyone who met Julie Abbott was enchanted by her.  Unfortunately, one of those people was 52-year-old Tim McCloskey.  His wife, Ellen, had worked for Julie as a receptionist for the past six years. But it wasn't until the holiday season of 2007 that Tim met Julie at a company Christmas party.  At that moment, his obsession with her began.

Tim, with a long, documented history of mental illness, was drawn into a downward spiral by this fixation.  He sent the doctor love letters and flowers.  She did nothing to encourage him, but knowing of his illness, she hesitated to do anything to embarrass him or his wife.

Tim's mental state worsened; he stopped leaving the house and refused to bathe or brush his teeth.  In his mind, he was a spurned lover and Julie his cruel tormentor.

His escalating inappropriate behavior became a source of constant stress in Julie's life.  She and the staff sought a quiet, in-house solution.  When she went to work on April 4, 2008, she was looking forward to leaving early to go on vacation with her husband, Ben.

On that same day, Tim McCloskey emerged from his home for the first time in weeks.  No one is certain how long he waited in the parking lot of Julie's office before the target of his passion and his rage stepped outside.

Tim, with unkempt gray hair and a thick beard, confronted Julie.  Valerie Cantu, a nurse from another office, walked by the volatile pair.  Julie warned her that the large man had a gun.  Valerie looked in Tim's cold, emotionless eyes.  Fearful, she dialed 9-1-1.

Tim pulled the trigger, shooting Julie in the abdomen.  He stood over her fallen body and shot her in the shoulder.  San Antonio Police Officer Michael Blanquiz squealed into the parking lot.  Tim turned, smirked at the officer, and delivered a third bullet straight into Julie's head.

The patrolman squatted behind his car for cover and demanded Tim drop his weapon.  Instead, the killer walked towards him, gun in hand.  As the distance closed, the policeman had a serious decision to make.  "Honestly," he said,  "I wanted to run like everybody else was, but I didn't have anywhere to run. He had to be stopped."  He fired six times, hitting McCloskey with four shots -- two in his legs, one in his hand and a providential hit in Tim's gun hand that sent the weapon clattering to the pavement.

Julie was rushed to University Hospital, where she was pronounced dead at 2:27 that afternoon.  After emergency surgery, McCloskey was in critical condition.  He was charged by proxy with murder and capital murder.  He spent a full year in the hospital recovering, but his injuries left him in a wheelchair, capable of walking short distances only on his tiptoes.

In January 2010, the case went to trial.  The prosecution team asked for life in prison for Timothy McCloskey.  Defense Attorney Tony Cantrell did not argue for the innocence of his client on the homicide charge but claimed he was not guilty by reason of insanity.  Tim McCloskey, he said, had a psychotic break and didn't realize what he was doing.  On the second charge of assault, he called witnesses whose testimony contradicted Officer Blanquiz when they said that McCloskey never pointed the gun in the policeman's direction, and thus, was not guilty of that crime.

On Wednesday, January 13, closing arguments ended and the decision was in the hands of the jury.  The jury deliberated for several hours before going home for the day.  On Thursday, the debate remained contentious.  At one point, the panel sent a note to the District Judge Ron Rangel saying they were hopelessly deadlocked.  The judge ordered them to continue.

After fourteen hours over two days, they reached a verdict: legally sane and guilty of murder and aggravated assault on a police officer.  The punishment phase of the trial began the next day.

Jurors listened to emotional testimony from Julie's husband and Tim's sons.  Several members of the panel wiped away tears throughout the morning.

The jury's ambivalence about the verdict was obvious in their decision on sentencing.  Rather than imposing life in prison, they gave him a thirty-year sentence for Julie's death -- half of which had to be served before he would be eligible for parole.  They also levied ten years probation for the assault on Officer Blanquiz, to be served concurrently with his imprisonment on the homicide charge.

No matter how you view the verdict or the sentence, one thing is indisputable: a wonderful, compassionate woman is dead and nothing can bring her back to the many who loved her.  The big question for me is this: could something have been done before that fatal day to prevent her murder?

When involuntary commitment was too easy, its abuses were plentiful, cruel and unjust.  But now, is it so difficult that the same adjectives apply?  Is there a middle ground where we can protect the rights of the mentally ill -- most of whom will never harm anyone -- and, at the same time, protect society from the violence perpetrated by a few seriously disturbed individuals?

I am convinced that there has to be.  Finding it would require a concerted effort by victims' advocates, mental health professionals and informed legislators.  Are they up to the challenge?  Or are we doomed to see these senseless crimes repeated again and again?

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'A Death in the Desert'

by Cathy Scott 

The Las Vegas homicide investigation into casino heir Ted Binion's death culminated in not just one trial, but two. The case, which attracted a media herd, became known as Las Vegas's biggest trial, surpassing even the storied mob trials from the 1980s. 

The case has also been called a "murder mystery." But Binion's death was hardly a mystery -- a point hammered home in a documentary recently aired on Investigation Discovery Channel's "On the case with Paula Zahn." In "A Death in the Desert," Zahn carefully laid out the discrepancies in the case. 

Binion died sometime in the late morning hours of Sept.17, 1998. It was no secret he'd struggled with drugs for years. The day before his death, Binion bought tar heroin from his drug dealer. His next-door neighbor, a physician, filled a Xanax prescription for him. So Binion's stately home wasn't treated as a crime scene after his body was discovered. The casual police behavior, compounded by people walking in and out removing valuables such as expensive fine art and silver coins, would come back to haunt the prosecution team: There was no smoking gun, and police gathered no hard evidence from the scene.

But in the days following Binion's death, Sandy Murphy, his live-in girlfriend of three years, became a suspect, as did Rick Tabish. Tabish, Binion's friend, would eventually be linked romantically with Sandy. 

Spurred largely by Binion's baby sister, Becky Behnen, the district attorney indicted Murphy and Tabish in Binion's death. Becky had a bitter falling out with her brother before his death. The two hadn't spoken in months, and they were rumored to have taken out contracts on each other's lives. The rumors never substantiated, but to put it mildly, Ted and Becky didn't like each other. 

Many things struck me as odd while I covered the case as a journalist. For one, Las Vegas police allowed private detective Tom Dillard to take over and lead the police investigation. Granted, he was a retired homicide detective from the Las Vegas police department. Still, it was unprecedented. 

Add to that the fact that Dillard was paid a whopping $400,000 by Binion's estate to investigate the case, a point confirmed by Murphy's defense attorney Michael Cristalli in the documentary. Despite the odd involvement of the highly paid outside investigator, the case moved forward through the judicial system. I was fascinated by red flags in the case; I started writing a book about it while covering it for Reuters news service and the now-defunct APBNews.com. It had the makings of a made-for-TV movie (which, ultimately, it became).

The Binion family had a Wild West reputation, starting with Ted's father, Benny, (left) who once served prison time for killing a man in Texas. The younger Binion was also known for wild behavior. He also was accused of killing a man, but, unlike his father, he was never charged. So it came as no surprise when the media covered Ted Binion's death intensely. Court TV aired the first trial gavel-to-gavel. National and international TV and print reporters, along with a courtroom artist, filled the courtroom each day.

At the end of that trial, in 2000, Murphy and Tabish were each convicted of murder and of burglarizing Binion's underground vault to unearth his buried silver, which was worth millions (the Binions were known for burying their fortunes on family owned property). 

Murphy and Tabish appealed their convictions and, on a technicality, were granted a new trial by the Nevada Supreme Court. Once again, they were tried together. It was during the second trial, with Tabish represented by radical civil rights attorney J. Tony Serra, that the prosecution's case against the pair unraveled. 

During the first trial, circumstantial evidence presented by star expert witness Michael Baden all but sealed Murphy and Tabish's fate--that is, until Serra came along for the second trial. Serra questioned Baden at length about a so-called button mark left on Binion's chest. Baden testified during the first trial that the mark was made by someone sitting on Binion, compressing his chest, while simultaneously holding a hand over Binion's nose and mouth to suffocate him. In May 2000, Murphy and Tabish were each convicted of murder and of burglary of Binion's buried silver cache. Jurors interviewed afterward said Baden's testimony swayed them toward guilty verdicts.

During the second trial, however, attorneys Serra and Cristalli used enlarged photos to prove that the button mark on Binion's chest was actually a blister. In November 2004, the jury returned not-guilty verdicts on the murder charges but let stand the burglary convictions.

Today, Sandy Murphy lives in Southern California. After the second trial, she was granted time served for the burglary charge and released. Rick Tabish remains in a Nevada prison and is expected to be released sometime in 2010. Sandy continues, through the court system, to clear her name in the burglary case.

As I said during my interview with the Investigation Discovery Channel, I'm certain there was no murder, that Ted Binion instead died from a self-induced drug overdose. It was, as Tony Serra observed, "casino royalty" and the "Binion money machine" who convicted the pair.

The second edition of my book, Death in the Desert: The Ted Binion Homicide Case, will be released in the spring of 2010. 

Photos of the Binions courtesy of the Binion Collection.

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Did She "Ask for It"? Does it Matter?

By Pat Brown

A victim is a housewife, college student, go-go dancer, model, teacher, nun, virgin, slut, whore, churchgoer, caretaker, drug user, pervert, cop, criminal, social worker, thief.

She may be sweet. She may be a bitch. She may not have deserved it. Then, again, maybe she sorta did.

What a victim is, and what a victim does, doesn't matter. Or, what a victim is, and what a victim does, makes all the difference.

Over and over, we hear that the behavior of the victim is not the issue. No one deserves to be murdered. No one deserves to be raped. Even the suggestion that the victim might have in some way contributed to her unfortunate demise is considered blasphemy. When pushed, it might be admitted, in a politically correct manner, that the victim "may have lived a high-risk life-style that increased her chance of becoming a victim." This is a nice way of saying the victim's personal decisions and behavior got her in trouble. Her unfortunate choices range from opening the door without knowing who is on the other side, jogging at dusk, or working the streets as a prostitute.

The continued white-washing of the victim's character, and the refusal to examine her actions, can make it harder to find, profile and try attackers. We think we are doing women a favor when we refuse to acknowledge that their behavior helped make them victims. We are, in fact, clouding the thinking of investigators and jurors in their abilities to identify and convict the perpetrators of rape and sexual homicide.

Let's examine how this political viewpoint of women's responsibility has affected these areas.

The investigation of a sexual homicide depends heavily on accurate information about the victim. Victimology includes the past history of the victim, the personality and habits of the victim in the recent months prior to the crime, and the activities and relationships the victim was involved with in the minutes, hours, and days before the murder.

The desire to believe that a totally crazy bogeyman appeared out of nowhere and, for no reason, murdered this totally innocent person, keeps many relatives and friends from informing the police investigators of dangerous activities and habits that could have set up the victim as the target in the killer's crime. Since the victim didn't deserve to be killed, then nothing she could have done should be relevant to her death.

This belief wastes valuable time and leads that could have led them rapidly to the perpetrator. The longer it takes for truthful information to reach the police, the more time the offender has to move or eliminate evidence, create alibis and generally disappear under the radar. When investigators accept this bogeyman theory, they too can overlook important information.

Still, investigators mustn't carelessly attribute risky behaviors as factors leading to a rape or murder. A prostitute is not necessarily murdered by a john, nor is a drug dealer always killed over drugs. Hitchhikers aren't necessarily murdered by the people who pick them up. It's entirely possible that none of the victim's less-than-desirable behaviors contributed in any way to her death. A drug-using prostitute with a real mean streak could be hit over the head and dragged into the bushes on her way home from church. The perpetrator may have no clue to her personality or lifestyle. She was just there; a victim of opportunity.

Wonderful traits can make someone a target as well. Take the horrific case of Annie Le (left with her fiancé), Yale student killed by a worker in the lab. She was beautiful, brilliant, sweet and friendly ... maybe too sweet and too friendly. Maybe she was overly polite to someone she should have avoided or maybe she was just so perfect and successful that her killer resented her existence. Good traits can get you killed, too.

Investigators must analyze all elements of victimology before making any conclusions. Even after a theory is developed, room must be left for the other possibilities, regardless of how unlikely. Paying close attention to all aspects of the victim's life as quickly as possible increases investigative leads and brings to police attention suspects who might  otherwise have gone undiscovered. 

In the courtroom, the defense often focuses on the victim's character. In a strange twist of reasoning, the politically correct refusal to make the victim responsible in any way for her fate allows the defense to assassinate her character.  

Because no one deserves to be killed, and no one contributes to the killer's choice of victim or decision to kill, then the victim must be totally innocent and the perpetrator must be totally guilty -- a hard case to prove. 

When the issue is seen so black and white, the jury is emotionally prepared to love the victim and hate the perpetrator. Then the defense presents their well-dressed, humble, intelligent, well -loved family man defendant. And then it proceeds to chip away at the victim's character (Jasmine Fiore, right, the model killed by her quickie-Las Vegas-marriage hubby) by, say, noting that she had numerous sexual relationships over the recent months (one of the other boyfriends could have done it), she frequented bars (oh, yeah, she could have picked up a freak), she did drugs (a low-life drug dealer probably offed her), she was a real flirt and wore provocative clothing (she asked for it ... oops ... not politically correct, but, hey, maybe she was into freaky sex and s/m), and she was not very nice sometimes (geez, maybe she really upset this guy and he lost it). 

Now that the victim has been so degraded in the eyes of the jury, they feel guilty if they put Mr. Nice Guy Defendant away for a crime, well, gee, for a crime that seems like any of the victim's acquaintances could have committed or that the victim herself encouraged. 

The truth gets lost in the jury's emotional response -- disappointment that the victim wasn't perfect. Oddly enough, it is easier to convict a murderer who killed during a drug deal, because character isn't an issue for either the prosecution or defense. The killer and the victim are both criminals. The only issue is the fact that the victim was killed. The trial then focuses on the evidence, not personality. (I am not saying this is cut and dried. Certainly defense attorneys still play the-defendant-is-a-nice-guy game, but the jury is not so conflicted over what to focus on to reach its verdict.) 

The issue in court should not be whether the girl was "easy," but whether she was easy prey, a vulnerable target for the offender. It should be stressed to the courts that these easy catches are often practice runs an offender uses to hone his skills before he goes after more difficult game --people with less risky behavior. When the concept of "good versus evil" raises its head in a court of law, the jury loses the gray area in between. If the defendant is "evil," then the victim must be "good." If the victim is not "good," then the defendant is not "evil" -- and neither gets justice.

A good example of this was the OJ Simpson case. When Nicole Simpson's character was raked over the coals, she went from being the innocent party to being the guilty party. This in turn made OJ the innocent party, unjustly accused. Anyone less than totally evil could not have committed such a heinous act; therefore, OJ couldn't have done it because he is no longer totally evil (as Nicole Simpson is no longer totally innocent). 

The focus of the argument in court is skewed. We should not be concerned about innocence or guilt of the perpetrator in relation to the victim. Nor should we focus on the innocence or guilt of the victim in relation to the perpetrator. We should simply be convicting the defendant if he has committed the crime, regardless of the relationship between them, and in spite of any behavior of the victim that rendered her the status of victim.

Did he commit the crime?

 

Let's take two examples of rape occurring at the same location. Both victims claim they were raped at a party. Both victims are college students. Both victims are deaf. Everyone at the party was deaf (Gallaudet University, the only university for the deaf in the world, pictured left). The perpetrators were both deaf. Both victims and both perpetrators were drinking. Victim One said she entered a back bedroom willingly with the suspect. The suspect started kissing her, which she allowed. The suspect pulled her onto a bed and started removing her underpants from under her skirt. The room was dark, and though she signed "no" to him repeatedly, he continued and then attempted sexual intercourse. She tried to push him off, but as she was drunk, she had little success. The suspect ejaculated quickly, got up, pulled on his pants and staggered out of the room. Did he commit a rape? 

Victim Two was on her way to the bathroom when the suspect came up behind her and shoved her into a back room. He pushed her to the floor and started pulling off her clothes. She struggled, but as she was very inebriated had little strength. Each time she tried to push him off, he shoved her back on the floor. He had sexual intercourse with her, ejaculated, got up, spit on her and left the room. Did he rape her?

Both victims came to the hospital. Both had semen evidence in the vagina. Neither showed any other injuries. The district attorney refuses to take either case to court because he claims to have no proof of rape. While both cases fit the societal definition of rape (the male is supposed to have asked and received permission for the sexual act in question), the legal definition of rape is another matter, and proving it is another matter still. 

The offender must have committed an act in which the victim is forced or coerced into participating. Victim One entered the room willingly with the suspect. She made no effort to turn on the light which would have enhanced her ability to communicate with the male. The male pulled (not pushed) her onto the bed and although she claims she pushed on his chest to get him off, she did so ineffectively; the suspect did not receive a clear indication of her refusal to have intercourse. During intercourse she did not attempt to cause him any kind of pain such as biting or stabbing him with her fingernails. She says she did not want to hurt him. She claims she was not particularly scared. His actions, although not welcomed, were not threatening. 

Because she could have taken precautions upon entering the room to ensure communication and she could have inflicted some sort of pain as an indication of objection, this victim clearly did not take action to prevent the event from occurring. The suspect may well have had no clue he was committing a sexual act against her will.

Victim Two did not enter into the back room of her own free will. She gave no indication of a desire to have sexual relations with the suspect. By shoving her into the room and pushing her to the floor, his aggression put the victim in a state of fear. When she tried to push him off, she made it clear she didn't want to have sex with him. She said she was afraid to try to hurt him because he might react violently. At a party with no hearing guests, screaming would have brought no help. At the end of the sexual activity, the perpetrator spit on her, clearly indicating his contempt for her and his awareness that she had not been a willing partner. 

There is sufficient circumstantial evidence here to prove a forcible sexual act.

Suppose both these cases actual were tried in a court of law. The jury learns that Victim One is a virgin and rarely drinks. Victim Two is rather promiscuous and is on the pill. Victim Two also hits up a party every week. In this profiler's opinion, both of victims' characters and behaviors could have led the perpetrators to the choices they made. The victims' choices of response to each suspect's acts established or negated the legal definition of forcible sexual activity. 

When Victim One went willingly into the room, virgin or not, she negated that she was being forced. By not attempting to turn on the light, she negated her desire for clear communication. By not attempting to inflict any kind of injury to the suspect that would make him question her desire for the sexual act, she negated that he was forcing her.

Victim Two, however, was forced into the room. That clearly establishes that the activity was forced. If Victim Two at that point turned and signed "Hey, Big Boy, let's do it!" she would have established consent and negated any forcible issue. Instead, his actions showed he was forcing sexual activity on her. If, in court, the jury feels sorry for the virginal Victim One and doesn't think one more round of sex is a big deal to the more sexually experienced Victim Two, then no one receives justice. 

All victims of crime are indeed victims, but we mustn't ignore victim behaviors that can help us identify the offender; we mustn't over-focus on their behaviors and characters in court, and we should learn from those victims just how certain behaviors can make us victims as well.

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Murder in Oklahoma

by Cathy Scott

With this week's release of my latest book, The Rough Guide to True Crime, it seems only appropriate to present on Women in Crime Ink an excerpt about Bertha Pippin, an elderly woman who was murdered by neighborhood teenagers for no apparent motive.

I know Bertha's son, Jerry Pippin, a veteran radio broadcaster who has had me on his show several times. The story of his mother's murder was barely touched on by local media, then forgotten. So I decided to give Bertha a voice and include her story in my homicide chapter in The Rough Guide to True Crime. Here it is, in part.

BERTHA LEE PIPPIN

On a rainy day in November 2000, Bertha Pippin, 85, was fatally beaten with a baseball bat inside the Muskogee, Oklahoma, home where she lived alone. Frail Bertha was utterly incapable of defending herself against her teenage attackers, one of whom was a local girl, Amanda K. Lane. Bertha paid an appalling price for taking an interest in the welfare of this troubled teen.

Bertha was a mother and grandmother. Bertha talked about Amanda and how she regularly called her the “old lady.” Despite that, Bertha expressed high hopes that by being kind to the teen, she could reform her. Bertha empathized with Amanda, because Bertha too had gone through a lot when she was young. She understood.

Her mother had died giving birth to Bertha. Her sharecropper father told her she wasn’t wanted. He shipped her off to her grandparents, simple farmers who had little money.

A few years later, Bertha went to live with an uncle she had never met. She attended a small protestant church and met her future husband, the son of a Baptist preacher. They married and had four children. They lived a quiet life while her husband made a meager living.

Bertha felt Amanda deserved a chance, but she didn’t like the boys Amanda hung out with. She thought they were a bad influence, especially after Bertha learned they abused a pit bull that lived across the street. But Bertha insisted her son Jerry not report the abuse to authorities. Bertha was afraid the boys would find out and retaliate against her. She had a good sense about people, and it turned out her feeling about the boys was right.

Bertha was comfortable living alone; only a narrow alleyway separated her from her daughter Beverly Robertson’s home. Bertha was involved in her neighborhood. Between 9 and 10 p.m. on Nov. 3, Amanda and two of her friends – Gary Rightsell and Travis Phillips – carried a baseball bat to Bertha’s house. Amanda knocked on the door, telling Bertha she was locked out of her house and needed to use a phone.

While Amanda pretended to call someone on the phone, Bertha went into the kitchen to get a glass of water for one of the boys. As Bertha walked back to her living room, Gary hit her over the head with the bat. Bertha reeled and landed on the sofa. They asked her for money. She told them to hang on because her head hurt, that she would get the money for them and she wouldn’t tell anyone. That’s when Gary began hitting her repeatedly.

Then the other teen took the bat and continued. Amanda later testified that she was ordered to hit Bertha too. Otherwise, the boys might kill Amanda’s three-year-old daughter. So Amanda too took her turn. Bertha’s body was discovered after Beverly sounded the alarm and called her husband and brother. There was blood everywhere. In Bertha’s wallet, untouched, was $300 in cash.

One of the teens, Gary Rightsell, who weighed 200 pounds, admitted to helping kill Bertha using a baseball bat they had gotten from a friend’s house. He pleaded guilty in Muskogee District Court to two counts of accessory after the fact. Rightsell cooperated with prosecutors as part of a plea bargain, and he helped in the arrest of Amanda Lane. She was convicted of first-degree murder and robbery by force or fear. She is incarcerated at the Mabel Bassett Correctional Center in McLoud, Oklahoma, where is she serving out her life sentence.

Two months later, Judge James E. Edmondson sentenced Rightsell to 30 years in prison on both counts, 10 of which were suspended. Rightsell could have gotten 45 years of hard time in a maximum-security prison instead. He is serving time at the Howard McLeod Correctional Center in Atoka, Oklahoma.

According to the prison’s website, Rightsell is eligible for parole and scheduled to appear before the prison board in March 2009. If he's not paroled, his release date is June 2016.

Travis Phillips, owner of the baseball bat used to bludgeon Bertha, received a year’s probation after pleading guilty to a charge of obstructing a police officer in the investigation. He has been in and out of jail and prison ever since, mostly for substance abuse charges, according to the Department of Corrections in Okalahoma. Today, Travis is a free man.

A subpoena to testify was about to be served on the fourth suspect, Randy Hughart, when he was killed in 2001 during a street fight with a drug dealer. Hughart died from blunt trauma to his head, the same fate suffered by Bertha Pippin.

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Anatomy of a Cold Case Murder

by Donna Pendergast

The subject of cold case squads is a hot topic in the criminal justice world. With the popularity of television shows such as Cold Case and other shows of that ilk, the emphasis on solving old cases has taken on new importance in police departments across the country.

Many obstacles hamper homicide cases in the early stages of an investigation. Overworked investigators often have sparse resources, nonexistent support staff and never-ending case loads. This frequently results in circumstances where investigators are forced to move on to another case if a crime is not solved quickly.

Conventional wisdom has always been that the first 48 hours after a crime is the most critical period and that the likelihood of solving a case drops dramatically after 72 hours. While undoubtedly that statement remains true, cold case squads across the county are learning that the passage of time can sometimes benefit their investigations as well.

Cold case units attempt to breathe new life into old cases using all the technology and resources currently available. Cold case units scrutinize their cases, going over each one with a fine-tooth comb in an effort to determine if something was overlooked or if circumstances have changed.

Investigators in a cold case unit are usually relieved of other investigative duties so that they are freed up to pursue leads that have long laid dormant. Fundamental to the success of a cold case unit is investigators who have the ability to give the case the intense sort of scrutiny which is only possible when they are freed up from the rigors of running from case to case.

Over the course of my career I've worked with several different types of cold case units. The type of cold case squad operating in any specific jurisdiction varies based on need and available resources. Cold case units can take a number of forms from a single investigator who investigates a single case to dedicated teams who do nothing but look at a number of older cases from start to finish. I've also worked with a dedicated task force team who did nothing but focus on a single case for nearly for two and a half years. The efforts of that team resulted in the murder convictions of six individuals after nearly three decades.

The teams that I have worked with as well as other cold case teams from across the country have found that while the passage of time usually hurts an investigation in some cases it can be be to their advantage. As a case sits dormant on a shelf a number of things can happen. Relationships, friendships, and alliances can change and formerly uncooperative witnesses may become more willing to speak or provide information that they have not provided in the past.

On the other side of the equation the passage of time allows for perpetrators to become cocky or complacent. After a period of time perpetrators may, and often do, speak or brag about their crimes confident that they have gotten away with their misdeeds. Booze and drugs can fuel statements about a perpetrator's past criminal activity.

Other factors can change with the passage of time as well. Witnesses may have matured or may now need help with the criminal justice system making them more approachable and more likely to speak to investigators. Advances in technology and changes in the law can also benefit investigators working on cold case squads.

But all the time and technology in the world won't solve a cold case without the right personnel behind it. This isn't a squad for rookies. In most jurisdictions only the most talented and experienced investigators and prosecutors work cold cases.

Investigators need experience on the streets.They need to know how to locate witnesses and then gain their trust. They also have to understand the nuances of difficult litigation and be prepared to overcome the practical difficulties of bringing a case to trial.

Prosecutors need to be involved with the investigations from the start of the investigation and have the opportunity to attempt to flesh out areas of potential jury concern. They need to understand that the age of the case alone is going to subject the case to more rigorous scrutiny than a current case. Prosecutors need to interact with, direct, and scrutinize the investigations to make sure that potential jury questions and considerations are addressed as well as is possible. Prosecutors also need to be very experienced, trial savvy, and prepared to try the most difficult of cases.

The reality of a cold case squad is not nearly as glamorous as what people watch on TV, and unlike TV, these cases are not solved in an hour. However, cold case squads across the country are proving every day that what might have once appeared to be the perfect crime can now be successfully investigated and prosecuted as well. For that we all can be grateful.

Statements made in this post are my own and are not intended to reflect the views, opinions, or position of the Michigan Attorney General or the Michigan Department of Attorney General.

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Blood In, Blood Out

by Connie Park

On June 8, 2006, 49-year-old Robert McCartney arrived at a Walmart in Baytown, Texas, to buy fishing tackle in anticipation of an upcoming fishing trip with an old friend. Three other thugs, Randall Wayne Carter (age 32), Larry Ray Welch (age 20), and Michael Brandon Faught (age 22), unbeknownst to McCartney, were there in the parking lot, waiting for him. To Carter and Faught, McCartney was an unsuspecting victim they could rob and terrorize. All three were there to execute an order they received from the “Captain” of the local Texas Aryan Brotherhood. They were ordered to steal a truck in order to sell the parts.

The surveillance camera shows that the three abduct McCartney, push him into the truck, and drive off from the parking lot. They drove out to the country, and crossed the county line into Liberty County to a desolate soybean field.

On the way to the scene, Carter ordered the victim at gunpoint to take off his clothes. McCartney begged for his life. He was crying and very, very scared.

McCartney was taken away from the Walmart in his own truck, to a place he hadn’t ever seen before. When Carter drove McCartney into this field, he ordered him to get out of his own truck. McCartney stared at Carter, Welch, and Faught (who had followed Carter to the field) in disbelief. He begged them for his life. But to Randall Wayne Carter, that didn’t matter a bit.

Carter first stabbed McCartney in the neck and left him in the dirt field. Carter was not finished. He then got behind the defenseless McCartney, and sliced his neck with a force so great that it severed the man’s jugular veins.

He and the others then left McCartney’s nude body in the field, where it was found by a farm worker the following morning. Carter had followed orders all right, he got the victim’s truck.

And it cost that victim, a guy minding his own business and getting ready for a fishing trip, his life. The graphic details are important, not to sensationalize the story, but rather to show how heartless and brutal the murder was and how they terrorized and killed this man simply because they wanted his truck. Simply because they could.

The following day, Baytown police were notified of a missing persons report made by the victim’s sister. It matched information that had been broadcast by the Liberty County Sheriff’s Office about a man that an unsuspecting farm worker found in a soybean field.

Ironically, Baytown police were also investigating an unrelated burglary of a local department store where thousands of dollars worth of merchandise was stolen. Acting on a tip on the burglary, the police found themselves at a residence on Morrell Street in Baytown, where they saw several suspects attempting to leave with the stolen merchandise.

The police quickly learned the suspects were also involved in McCartney’s murder when they saw Michael Faught burning McCartney’s wallet in the backyard. McCartney’s truck was also recovered at a nearby street.

Carter, Welch, and Faught were arrested and charged with capital murder. They had been awaiting trial in Houston in the Harris County Jail. Welch and Faught confessed to the crime and implicated Carter as the one who stabbed and killed McCartney.

The capital murder trial was set originally for early part of 2009. However, Carter pled guilty and agreed to life in prison without parole, thus avoiding the death penalty. He was a known member of the Aryan Brotherhood. He had been to prison before. He threatened to kill anyone who mentioned a word. And he is—and will remain—alive.

The Aryan Brotherhood, known as AB, was formed in the 1960s by a group of bikers in San Quentin State Prison in California when desegregation took place in prisons. Racial violence broke out and gangs were formed along racial lines. AB members identified themselves with symbols and tattoos of swastikas and Nazi SS lightning bolts.

During the 1980s, the AB divided into two factions: gang members in federal custody and gang members in state prison. AB became the most feared and violent prison gang involved in organized crime, drug trafficking, extortion, inmate prostitution, and murder-for-hire.

AB members have a lifetime allegiance to the gang and take the same blood oath:

“An Aryan brother is without a care. He walks where the weak and the heartless don’t dare. For an Aryan brother, death holds no fear. Vengeance will be his, though his brother’s still here”

AB members live by these words:

“We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children. Any true soldier not only lives by these words, but they would be embedded in his heart and soul. Rahowa!” (Racial Holy War)

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Learning from Caylee?

by Kathryn Casey

Lately, I find myself wondering about two-year-old Caylee Anthony. I ponder what her final moments were like, what she thought when the duct tape was fastened across her mouth. Was she still conscious? Did she understand what was happening to her? Did she wonder why anyone, perhaps her own mother, would hurt her? Or was her child's mind so crowded with fear, she could do nothing but cry?

Thinking about those final moments is horrifying. Put in a larger context, it's even more unsettling. The truth is that the toddler's death has led me to reconsider one of society's great quandaries. Since Caylee's body was discovered last month (photo of scene below left), I've chewed on a single question: What could have been done to save her?

To be clear: We don't yet know all the evidence in the case. No jury has announced a verdict. Perhaps it will turn out that there are other explanations for Caylee's death. Perhaps another suspect will emerge or prosecutors will fail to present strong evidence to wipe out reasonable doubt, the standard that requires a jury return a verdict of not guilty. That acknowledged, for the duration of this post, I'm going to take a leap and assume prosecutors are correct, that Casey is responsible for Caylee's death and that her actions fit the legal definition of murder.

Assuming that's the case, let's look at this in the larger context and ask: What could society have been done to save Caylee's life?

First, we have to look at the situation as part of the whole. We need to remember that within our culture, parental rights, at least in theory, are nearly absolute. Authorities aren't supposed to interfere in families or take children away from a parent without evidence of neglect or abuse. I'm not claiming or even implying that there aren't mistakes made, that good parents don't through misjudgements lose their children. Sadly, I'm sure that happens. But our society places a high value on the sanctity of family. Our laws are intended to protect children but also the rights of parents.

In our democracy, families aren't supposed to be interfered with without cause. When it comes to the Anthony case, prior to Cindy Anthony's 911 call ("It smells like there's been a dead body in the damn car"), we've been told of no prior evidence of anything amiss in the Anthony household.

In fact, those who have come forward to describe Casey's relationship with Caylee include friends who refer to Casey as "an amazing mom," "a great mom," and someone who was "really into her child." Over the past six months, Casey's parents have both repeatedly described their daughter as "a great mother." If I'm wrong about this, and there were reports of neglect or abuse prior to Caylee's disappearance, please feel free to correct me, but I haven't read anywhere that Casey was, at any time, the target of any official reports or investigations.

So, what could government have done to save the toddler? Sadly, without evidence of some kind of abuse, the truth is probably nothing.

I know that's not what many of you want to believe. It's so much more satisfying to think that some vast organization manned by faceless bureaucrats should have saved that precious toddler. But that's not true. Not under these circumstances.

For the protection of our society, we don't want CPS or any branch of law enforcement insinuating itself into our families without ample cause. Any policy that would allow government to enter our homes on a fishing expedition, looking for neglect or abuse without prior evidence, is terrifying. The simple truth is that in this case, and in many others where a child dies, no investigation was justified.

Still, as I'm writing this, I have to admit that doubt nags at me. Not about the big picture but the small one. If Casey Anthony murdered her daughter, she didn't just snap, not when she researched neck-breaking and chloroform on the Internet. Certainly this case appears to smack of considerable premeditation. So, shouldn't someone have witnessed something? Shouldn't those close to Casey have seen something foreboding in Casey's relationship with little Caylee? I mean, could that young mother really have fooled everyone?

I don't believe it.

At the very least, we know that some who knew the family are saying Casey didn't want Caylee. There are reports that Casey wanted to put her daughter up for adoption. If that's true, Casey had options. Many states, including Florida, have laws that allow parents unwilling or unable to care for a child the right to take the child to a "safe harbor." A mother and/or father can drop off a child at a designated place, including fire stations and hospitals, and, without explanation, walk away. It's difficult not to look at the photos of Caylee and think about how many families would have loved to offer her a home and a future. But someone, perhaps her own mother, apparently decided the toddler didn't deserve that chance.

Unfortunately, as a society, we can't do a lot to protect the Caylees of our world, children at risk who appear outwardly to be well cared for in good homes. The protections available only kick in when those close to a child—family, neighbors, friends—watch, notice, and speak out. Perhaps some of Casey's family and friends now, in hindsight, recognize danger signs. But, of course, now is too late.

What can we learn from Caylee's death? Maybe that if we're all more aware, we'll be forewarned. And perhaps then there will be at least hope that some will be saved.

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