by John Glatt
“You know [there are] people who say you had to know?” observed Savidge.
“For those people out there, I’m going to tell you something,” said Pedro angrily. “I had nothing to do with this and I don’t know how my brother got away with it for so many years.”
“He fooled you?” asked Savidge.
“He fooled me,” Pedro agreed, “because I used to go there … to work on cars, clean the yard, help him out and stuff. But I never went beyond the kitchen.”
Then Savidge asked how they felt about Ariel, now they knew what he had done.
“A monster,” Onil replied. “I hope he rots in that jail. I want him to suffer to the last extent. I don’t care if we even feed him, for what he has done to my life and my family’s.”
“I feel the same way,” said Pedro.
“To the both of you now,” asked Savidge, “he no longer exists?”
“Yeah,” replied Onil. “The monster’s a goner. I’m glad that he left the door unlocked. Maybe he did it on purpose … and wanted to get caught. Maybe [his] time was up. But if he did it that way he shouldn’t have went to Mamma’s house and picked me up and put me in a car, if he knows that was going to happen.”
Finally, Savidge asked the brothers what they would have done, if they had known Ariel had three kidnapped women and a child under his roof.
“I would call the cops because that ain’t right,” said Pedro. “If I knew I would have reported it, brother or no brother.”
* * *
Gina DeJesus celebrated Mother’s Day with her family for the first time in nine years. After having her hair done in a local beauty salon, Gina came home to her favorite home-cooked meal of corn beef empanadas and potato balls (ground beef and potatoes rolled into balls and fried).
“It was the best Mother’s Day I could ever have,” said a beaming Nancy Ruiz. “I still feel it is a dream.”
Felix was so delighted to have his family together again, he was already planning the next celebration.
“We want to have a block party and close the streets down,” he told a reporter. “That’s the best Mother’s Day present any mother can have.”
As part of her healing process, Gina had now adopted Lola, one of the three dogs living at 2207 Seymour Avenue. Gina had bonded with the small terrier mix while she was a prisoner and wanted to keep her.
After the escape, Ariel Castro’s dogs, a Chihuahua named Dina, a shih tzu called Drake, and Lola, had been housed by an animal rescue group. Now Lola would move in with Gina, while the two other dogs would be put up for adoption.
Amanda Berry celebrated Mother’s Day with her visiting family from Elizabethton, who had decided to stay an extra day in Cleveland. But it was a bittersweet occasion without her late mother there.
Troy Berry said he had really bonded with his new great-granddaughter, Jocelyn.
“She jumped on my lap and said, ‘Papaw, give me a hug,’” he told a TV reporter. “She’s so smart. [Amanda] said she taught her a lot at home when [Castro] wasn’t around.”
Berry said the family took photographs of the reunion but were told by the FBI not to have them developed until after the trial.
On Monday morning, Amanda visited her mother’s grave. It was a moving occasion as Amanda was finally reunited with her beloved mother, who had died seven years earlier of what many believed to have been a broken heart.
“[Amanda] went to the cemetery this morning,” her uncle Curtis Berry told the New York Daily News.
He also revealed that Amanda was now considering moving to Elizabethton, Tennessee, with Jocelyn, to get away from Cleveland.
“She has more kin here than anywhere else,” he said. “This is her home.”
* * *
As Amanda Berry visited her mother’s grave, private investigator Chris Giannini interviewed Emily Castro at the Rockville Correctional Facility in Rockville, Indiana, where she was serving twenty-five years for attempting to kill her infant daughter. Giannini, who audio-recorded the interview, was seeking evidence to appeal Fernando Colon’s 2005 conviction for sexually molesting Emily and her younger sister, Arlene.
He first asked Emily what she now thought of her father.
“He’s a monster,” she replied, “and then actually seeing the guy that hugged us and smiled with us and took us to eat and cared about us supposedly, is the guy who’s in handcuffs.”
A tearful Emily, now twenty-five, said she now felt her father had used her in the kidnappings of Amanda Berry and Gina DeJesus, both of whom she knew from school. Giannani asked if she was aware that Gina and Amanda were saying that she was in the car just before they were abducted.
“It hurts so bad,” said Emily. “I’m just saying that, that I feel used. I feel like I’m nothing to him, do you know what I mean? I feel nothing anymore.”
Emily said it bothered her that her father hunted for victims in the streets around Wilbur Wright Middle School, which she and her sisters attended.
“He would come to his own kids’ neighborhood,” she told Giannini. “He didn’t consider anything about us being his kids. He didn’t consider that he’s not only [kidnapping children] but he’s hurting us.”
During the interview, Emily said her father was often violent when she was growing up and savagely beat her late mother. Once she had jumped on her father’s back, and tried to stab him with a pencil, when he attacked her mother after her brain surgery.
She said that her father had never abused her or her sisters and was overprotective, insisting they always wear shorts under their skirts, T-shirts over their bathing suits and even shower with their underwear on.
She said she rarely visited 2207 Seymour Avenue after her parents broke up, and when she did, was never allowed past the kitchen.
“I’m thinking of the dates, to where he would actually have [the girls],” said Emily. “The upstairs was blocked off with a big bass speaker.”
She had last spoken to her father three days before he was arrested, and now felt betrayed by him as she and her sisters had all known Amanda and Gina.
“I’ve seen Gina a couple of times,” she said, “and then it couldn’t be coincidence. And so I had to bury my dad as being a good person completely.”
Finally, when Giannini asked if she had been coerced by her father to testify that Fernando Colon had sexually abused her, she refused to change her story.
“She’s standing by her father,” said Giannini, “so you get this conflict in her head of, ‘My dad’s a bad man but my dad told me to say these things.’”
30
“THE BEST DEFENSE WE CAN”
On Tuesday at noon, Cleveland police removed the barriers outside 2207 Seymour Avenue, allowing pedestrians and drivers their first glimpse of the “horror house.” Seymour Avenue would become a ghoulish sight-seeing destination, and from now on, to the annoyance of neighbors, hundreds of people would arrive daily to stare at it and pose for photographs outside.
“I just came to see it with my own eyes,” said Stan Miller, who lived on the other side of Cleveland, “but the next time I come, I’ll probably bring my cell phone, take a picture.”
Armed police still guarded the house around the clock to prevent curiosity seekers coming in, as it was still a crime scene.
“It’s like a movie … over there,” said neighbor Arivar Santiago. “A lot of people are going to come from other states to take a picture of the house.”
* * *
Late Tuesday afternoon, Ariel Castro met with his new criminal attorneys, Craig Weintraub and Jaye Schlachet for the first time. The two prominent Cleveland lawyers, with more than sixty years’ legal experience between them, had been contacted by Castro’s uncle Cesi two days after his arrest.
“Both my partner and I have had high-profile cases in our careers,” said Weintraub, “and when the call came in we both had to decide the advantages and disadvantages of getting involved in this … extremely high profile case. And we had to talk to our families, because we knew that there’
s the potential to be scorned as the attorney for someone … accused of committing such heinous crimes.”
Since his transfer to Cuyahoga County Jail, Castro’s behavior had become increasingly bizarre. He spent most of his time lying on his mat, either sleeping or staring at the empty bunk overhead. Occasionally he would walk around his tiny cell naked, even though he had complained it was too cold. Several times he was seen by guards drinking Kool-Aid and staring at himself in the mirror.
As he was still on suicide watch, every ten minutes a guard looked through his cell door window, to make sure he was okay. He did not have a radio or television in the cell or access to newspapers or magazines.
On Sunday morning, Castro had refused to take a shower, complaining of a headache. Later, he had attempted to floss his teeth using the loose strings from his mat. A sergeant had reprimanded him, before trimming the mat to stop him from doing it again.
During Tuesday’s three-hour meeting with his two attorneys, Castro insisted on being naked. And whenever tough questions came up, he would order Weintraub to turn off the air conditioner. From the beginning he appeared to enjoy toying with his two defenders.
As he had already confessed to detectives without a lawyer present, the main issue for the defense was whether Castro would face the death penalty, as fetus murder is classed as aggravated homicide under Ohio law.
“The majority of the charges were indefensible,” Weintraub said later. “We knew he would spend the rest of his life in prison, so it would just be keeping him off death row.”
When Weintraub and Schlachet left Cuyahoga County Jail, they were besieged by media representatives with interview requests for Ariel Castro.
“There were television producers from the major networks waiting for us,” said Weintraub. “We spoke to them and took their business cards, and said maybe we’ll be in touch.”
The next morning, the two attorneys told a TV reporter that their client would plead not guilty to all the charges if a grand jury indicted him. Weintraub said Ariel Castro had been “demonized” by the world’s press before anyone knew the whole story.
“The initial portrayal by the media has been one of a ‘monster,’” said Weintraub, “and that’s not the impression I got when I talked to him for three hours.”
Asked how the three women ended up in 2207 Seymour Avenue, Weintraub was evasive.
“That fact will be disclosed as the case progresses,” he said. “I am aware of how he came into contact with them.”
Jaye Schlachet vowed that he and his partner would mount the “best defense” possible.
“I know the media wants to jump to conclusions,” he said, “and all the people in the community want to say terrible things about the person who’s accused. We’re not even at the beginning of the process. If this was a marathon race, we’re not even at the starting line yet.”
Weintraub also said that Castro loved his daughter Jocelyn, and was determined to remain in her life.
“I can tell you that Mr. Castro is extremely committed to the well-being and positive future for his daughter, who he loves dearly,” said Weintraub. “And if people find that to be a disconnect from what he’s alleged to have done, then the people will just have to deal with it.”
* * *
The next day, the three first responders to 2207 Seymour Avenue spoke publicly about it for the first time at a special ceremony at the Cleveland Police Patrolmen’s Association headquarters. Police officer Barbara Johnson said that after getting the initial call that Amanda Berry had been found, she prayed it was not another hoax. She became emotional as she described going upstairs and Michelle Knight running into her arms.
“Michelle hugged me first,” said Johnson, “then clutched me and said, ‘Don’t let me go!’ You can’t really describe how I felt … it rips the heart out of my chest.”
Following the rescue, Johnson spent the next six hours with the victims at MetroHealth Medical Center, comforting them. She said no amount of police training could have prepared her for this, and she can’t get it out of her mind.
Officer Anthony Espada said he too was haunted by that day.
“I’ve broken down [crying] a few times … in private since then,” he said. “Those three girls are my heroes … after what [they] went through in that house all those years.”
* * *
On Friday afternoon, as the Cleveland Courage Fund hit the $500,000 mark, Ariel Castro’s mother, Lillian Rodriguez, and sister Marisol Alicea Castro visited Inmate C29. Later that day two reporters arrived from New York but were turned away.
“Ariel Castro was emphatic that he did not want to meet with any news person,” wrote one of his guards in a report.
Cuyahoga County Jail logs also showed that Castro periodically cleaned his cell, and thanked the guards who bought him breakfast. Every morning he was allowed out into the pod for twenty minutes under close supervision, while his cell was searched. Then he would be returned to his cell and locked up for the rest of the day.
Soon after his arrest, the Castro family met to discuss how to proceed.
“We had a family meeting,” said Maria Montes, “and talked about it. We’ve all tried to remain vigilant of the fact that he does still have a mother … and siblings who at one point loved him and were fooled. Obviously this has to be hurting them.”
At the meeting, it was decided that Ariel Castro, Jr.,—who was now using his middle name Anthony—would be the Castro family spokesman. From now on all media requests would officially go through him, although his uncle Cesi Castro would give the occasional interview.
The Cleveland abductions was now a huge story worldwide, and hundreds of media requests were pouring into Hennes Paynter Communications, all vying for interviews with the victims.
“They’re looking for the ‘get’ right now,” explained founder Bruce Hennes. “There’s a worldwide scramble. They want the picture, the interview. This is the hottest news.”
Hennes said that so far no one at his PR company had spoken to the three women, and everything was being handled by their attorneys at Jones Day. The main priority was not to compromise the criminal case against Ariel Castro.
“That’s why the women are not speaking publicly,” he explained. “At this point, our only role is to compile a list of media people who are interested in interviewing them. At the appropriate time the women will make their own decisions about whom they want to talk to and when.”
* * *
On Tuesday, May 21—two weeks after their escape—the Cleveland Courage Fund had raised more than $650,000, from more than five thousand donors. To mark the occasion, Hennes Paynter Communications released a special message from the three women to all their supporters.
AMANDA, GINA & MICHELLE OFFER THANKS TO COMMUNITY
We are the attorneys who have come together to help Amanda Berry, Gina DeJesus and Michelle Knight. These three brave women have asked us to give this message to everyone who has expressed concern and support. Amanda, Gina and Michelle want you to know they are doing well. They are happy and safe and continue to heal, a process that requires time and privacy.
Since we first spoke publicly on their behalf, it has been wonderful to see that their plea for privacy has been answered and respected. The media has disappeared from their front lawns and their neighborhoods are no longer experiencing traffic jams from news vehicles and curious onlookers. You have no idea how much this means to them and has helped in their recovery process.
Their first public message included a simple, heartfelt thanks to well-wishers and supporters for “Everything you are doing.” That “everything” now includes perhaps the greatest gift of all—the space and time to reconnect with their families and recover and rebuild their lives. And so they say again, “Thank you. Thank you so much!”
We continue to receive numerous generous offers to support Amanda, Gina and Michelle and their families. The outpouring of public support has been nothing short of remarkable.
To
have complete strangers offer loving support in the form of money, goods and services, reaching out to help like a family member, is appreciated in ways that are impossible to put into words. Amanda, Gina and Michelle, who have asked for nothing, are frankly overwhelmed by it all.
You have touched their hearts in ways they will never forget. So again, they collectively say “Thank You. Thank you so much.”
We understand some people may be confused about the best way to help. We are in direct, private and ongoing conversations with Amanda, Gina and Michelle about many matters, including your generosity.
While they appreciate the generous offers of goods and services, for now, they are trying to assess what they need today and for years to come. That’s why donations to the Cleveland Courage Funds are so welcome.
We are confident the Cleveland Courage Funds are the legitimate, appropriate and most effective vehicles for this effort. In fact, donations to the Cleveland Courage Funds are already being distributed to the four survivors consistent with the concepts behind the trusts that are being set up. And as soon as the trusts are in place, one hundred percent of all donations to the Cleveland Courage Funds will go into those trusts.
Cleveland is known for its generosity. Amanda, Gina, Michelle and Amanda’s daughter are indeed grateful for that generosity, as are we.
Charles Ramsey was now making the most of his fifteen minutes of fame. Rap superstar Snoop Dogg played his now infamous profanity-filled cell phone call to the police dispatcher on his GGN news network, before inviting him into the studio for an interview.
“You’re a real hero,” said the rapper. “You’re somebody that I want to meet. You’re a great guy and you should be commended. There should be more people like you in the world, and hopefully we’ll be able to rid the world of fucking peasants that’s knocking up girls like that. We love you, Mr. Ramsey.”
A local restaurant chain also offered him free hamburgers for life, and Hodge’s restaurant, where he still washed dishes, launched a special Charles Ramsey–inspired hamburger and T-shirt in his honor.
A Taiwanese online gaming company released a video game called Charles Ramsey’s Burger Bash. To the sound track of Ramsey’s infamous WEWS-TV interview, players hurl cheeseburgers at dozens of little Ariel Castro avatars, poking their heads out of a house closely resembling 2207 Seymour Avenue. One of the Castro avatars strums a bass guitar, while another is on a motorcycle.
