AHMM, October 2007

by Dell Magazine Authors

  * * * *

  Sharon had met Tom Bernhardt not long after the Mary Olson story broke, but long before she was assigned to the case. He was an assistant manager of Shaw's grocery, where Sharon had been called to interview witnesses to a gang shootout in the parking lot. Tom's adroit handling of his employees as he gathered them into his office and coached them just enough to develop the story simply yet clearly impressed Sharon. His gentle flirting left Sharon with no doubt that he would follow up in some way. His subsequent call to the office with questions on how the investigation was going led to an invitation to join him for lunch. The rest, as the saying goes, was history.

  On their second date, Tom explained that, in spite of his name, he was Italian. His ancestors were from the Tyrol region in extreme northern Italy, but his name came from a great-great grandfather who had been allowed into the family against the better judgment of the clan. Several months later, Sharon was sure a marriage proposal was right around the corner, then matters stalled after she was put on the follow-up team for the Mary Olson case.

  * * * *

  Sharon was brought into the investigation after the Serial Killer Squad had finished their labors. She was part of the “Olson Crime Team” led by Lucas Riggins and included John Williams, Peter Melendez, and Ian Maloney. The departing Serial Killer Squad reported that, following seven weeks of intense study, it was their opinion that the Olson homicide was an isolated act perpetrated by someone with no inclinations other than related to the victim.

  Up until that time, the dead woman had been only a name to Sharon. That changed when Sharon reviewed the file, saw the photographs and read the woman's biography. Sharon then dedicated herself to locating and putting away whoever was responsible for the murder.

  The sheriff instructed the Olson Crime Team to focus on what other leads could be developed. By mid summer, Sharon and John Williams were concentrating on the three people who stood out as likely suspects.

  Robert Kluge had been a part-time student for several years. He was single and was self employed as a computer consultant and Web site developer for individuals and small businesses. His profile indicated that he was serious and fancied himself to be of very high intelligence, but he had a short temper. He had relocated to the area from the West Coast and was known at many local restaurants, bars, and bookstore cafes. His statements in the file were terse and, as far as Mary Olson was concerned, stated simply that he had met her several times at Louie Louie's. He had asked her out twice and had been refused. He admitted to having had three casual affairs since arriving in the area and to be paying support on a child in Bakersfield, California.

  Another student was Roland Derringer, a gangly twenty-two year old who had been in three of Mary Olson's classes. Other students told the investigators that the suspected Derringer was fixated on her. He lived with his parents on the west side of town, and as far as could be determined, he had been to Louie Louie's only once, and that was early in the morning of Mary Olson's disappearance. He worked as a clerk at a convenience store a few blocks from the community college; his shift normally ended when the store closed at one A.M. He denied ever having asked Mary Olson out—he knew that she would turn him down—but he did say that he “liked her looks.” He had no known recent involvements with women, but admitted to what the Serial Killer Squad already knew, that he habitually viewed pornography and violent videos.

  George Katsoris was a tall, burly part-time bouncer at Paradise, a “gentlemen's club” downtown, and also worked on call for several trucking companies when they needed muscular help. He stopped at Louie Louie's two or three nights a week when his shift ended at two A.M. Within two weeks before Mary Olson's disappearance, he had invited her to join him at Paradise, but she had rebuffed him, and he responded by commenting that “You may be sorry you didn't."

  None of the three had alibis for the early morning hours of Mary Olson's murder. All three were seen in town later that morning. Tire tracks found along the shoulder of the highway near the body were “consistent"—in the classic prosecutorial phrase—with the make of the tires on Katsoris's pickup, a not very helpful conclusion, since a spot check around the courthouse square disclosed that probably a quarter of the vehicles in the county had the same sort of tires.

  By the middle of August everyone on the Olson team felt they'd hit a dead end, unless one of the three suspects could be isolated as the more likely target, or something out of the blue redirected their efforts. Edwin Rooker agreed with the team's belief that there was insufficient reason to charge any of the men, but enough to justify focusing on them. “But,” he said, “we will need some real probable cause to go for anybody's DNA."

  At a late afternoon Friday meeting, when the discussion about the case was winding down, Sharon asked: “Why don't we try a lie detector?"

  The others stared at her.

  "It's not subtle, but it might lead us somewhere."

  Lucas Riggins shook his head. “No. We'd have to let them know the results. And it'd spook the liar too soon. We don't want any of them to become defensive."

  Sharon felt foolish. She wondered if she belonged on the team.

  "We could try the DNA dragnet, though,” Lucas said. “We ask the three of them to give specimens for testing. If anyone shows up positive, we have him. If one of the three refuses, we know who to focus on."

  "He'd still be alerted,” said Sharon.

  "We'll let them think that we're at a dead end and are testing dozens, maybe a couple of hundred people. Tell them the state is picking up the tab, and we're trying to eliminate unnecessary work."

  Form consents for DNA testing were prepared. They contained a date and time that could be selected for giving the specimen and were numbered 65, 111, and 132 to give the impression that large numbers of people were being screened. Another set of sheets contained a list of names with numbers, dates, and times to look like a number of tests had already been scheduled.

  Sharon and Lucas were sent out to visit the three targets. The first target, George Katsoris, was reluctant and wanted to be sure that the test would be used only for the Mary Olson investigation and not for any other purpose. Sharon added that language to the form, which he signed.

  "He's done a couple of things that might get him jail time,” Lucas said as they climbed into the police cruiser, “otherwise he wouldn't have limited the scope of the test."

  "But he signed."

  Lucas Riggins cranked the cruiser to life. “Of course. He wants us to go away. I'll run the guy's history."

  * * * *

  They arrived at Robert Kluge's townhouse condominium in mid afternoon on a Saturday. He greeted them in sweat clothes. “I'm setting up my new home entertainment center,” he said as he led them into his living room. Amid the disarray, he asked them what they wanted without inviting them to have a seat.

  Sharon explained their visit and held out to him the consent form. She made it a point to allow him to see the list of fictitious others.

  Kluge made no effort to take the form.

  "Will you do this to help us?” she asked.

  Kluge's arms hung at this side. “No."

  "It will help to ease our work,” Lucas added.

  "No."

  Sharon was not prepared for such a blunt reply. “Would you mind telling us why not?"

  "No.” Kluge moved slightly toward them, obviously trying to shut them out.

  Lucas tried again. “We're very busy. This will help us to narrow our list of possible subjects of interest."

  "I'm very busy, too, as you can see,” said Kluge. He stretched out his arm toward the front door. “Have a nice day."

  Sharon put the papers together and told the truth. “You're the first one to turn us down."

  "I'll show you out,” he said.

  * * * *

  Sharon and Lucas were silent as they drove to see the third person on their list, but she knew that Lucas shared her thoughts: They knew their killer. Now how do they prove it? When Roland
Derringer easily agreed to provide a specimen, Sharon was even more certain who their prime suspect was.

  When the tests of the other two men came back negative, the members of the team all agreed that their primary job was to find the chink in Kluge's armor. Sharon expressed dismay that their prime suspect had been so adamant without giving an excuse. “He could have said he was allergic to needles, feared contracting AIDS from the needle, or disliked doctors or the police. But to simply say no just runs the risk of us thinking he's a suspect."

  Lucas pursed his lips. “He probably figures he's a suspect and doesn't see to cooperate with us,” he said. “Criminals break into two types. To some of them it's very important to avoid being suspected, like the wife who wants the insurance. If serious suspicion falls on them it defeats the purpose of doing the crime. So they make a positive effort to deflect suspicion in another direction by being cooperative and giving statements. The other type simply wants to keep from being caught; they don't care if they're suspected. They want to avoid giving themselves away, so for them, it's more dangerous to talk. Kluge is the second type, and he seems very intelligent. ‘Catch me if you can,’ he says, ‘but I won't play games with you or say anything or do anything that might trap me.’ Most people aren't crafty enough to understand the difference, so they talk and give us clues. Kluge is one of the very few who might be able to get away with telling us to stuff it."

  * * * *

  Sharon tried to explain the difference between the two types to Tom that night over dinner at her place, but he was less than understanding. He complained about what he called her “obsession” with the Olson case.

  "Can't you just be a regular cop?” he asked.

  "I am a ‘regular cop,’ Tom. I spend time on routine work, then I work on Olson."

  "How long will this go on?"

  She thought for a moment. “I can't say."

  "You need to give me some idea. We have plans to make, I hope."

  "We do. But not now."

  * * * *

  At the next team meeting, Lucas Riggins suggested another approach to the DNA challenge.

  The normal method of securing a DNA sample was to gather saliva from the inside of the subject's mouth with a swab that would be sent for analysis and comparison with the sample from the crime scene or victim. If a suspect was in custody and charged with the crime, or if a warrant for the procedure had been obtained, this technique was allowed as “nontestimonial evidence.” This had passed constitutional muster, since it did not involve statements by the accused. In the Kluge case there was insufficient evidence to justify his arrest or even a search warrant, and since he was not going to say “ah” for such a procedure, the specimen would need to be obtained some other way.

  One method is to go through the suspect's trash to find an item with a bit of saliva or blood or hair. This has rarely been successful and is impractical where trash is comingled. A more common procedure is to find something discarded that is indisputably the suspect's. Under the legal concept that a person has no expectation of the sanctity of abandoned property, this has met with universal court approval. Once a suspect's DNA from a discarded item is linked to the suspect, a search warrant is easily obtained for more precise testing.

  The team's task was to find something that Robert Kluge had discarded and to verify that it was his, a cigarette or cigar, a napkin, chewing gum, a plug of chewing tobacco, or even a toothpick. But officers who had shadowed him confirmed that he used none of those things.

  Another relatively simple find is a discarded drink container. Kluge was in the habit of buying coffee at a Starbucks near campus, where the officers had observed him crumpling up and dropping his paper coffee cups in the trash bin, if he wasn't carrying his coffee with him to his car. He would lurk near the trash bin until other customers tossed in their cups before he tossed in his and sauntered away. A chain of custody showing the cup as a source for later DNA testing could not be established with certainty. And the team was unwilling to show their hand by pushing Kluge aside to grab the empty coffee cup as it fell into the trash.

  Sharon brightened. “We could have the coffee shop employees take the trash away as soon as he throws the cup in."

  They were all silent for a few moments. Then Maloney, a grizzled veteran deputy, shook his head. “No. The stuff would get mixed up, and by the time we could get to it we wouldn't be able to verify which cup was his."

  "We could approach him to ask some questions,” Sharon said, “but it would be better that he didn't know we were after him."

  Maloney put his hands flat on the table. “We need to chance it. One of us will watch him, while two others wait around the corner. When he starts for the trash, the one watching calls the others on a cell phone, and they will then swoop down on him right after he tosses the cup in and head him to a corner where they can talk.

  "We'll pick a time when the place is crowded; he won't want a confrontation in front of people,” Maloney continued, drawing out his words, as if he were thinking out loud. “He seems to have a big ego. He thinks he can outfox us without anybody else knowing it. If we just sidle up to him and make it look casual, he'll bite."

  "What if we created a distraction?” Lucas Riggins asked the group.

  The youngest member of the team, Melendez frowned. “Like what?"

  Lucas shrugged. “A fight? A pretty blonde?"

  Sharon glanced around the room. “Tom and I will have an argument."

  They all stared at her.

  Maloney shook his head. “He knows you already. John, can you and the missus fake an argument?"

  Williams snickered. “Fake one? We'll have a real one."

  Sharon held out her hands, palms up. “You'll be having coffee, and when he drops the cup you'll jump up, shouting at each other and moving toward the trash can. As he moves away, crowd him a little, but let him get away, then you two can get to the trash when he's moved on. You won't have to even confront him. He doesn't know you."

  Amid the laughter, Lucas said, “You're it, then. Practice it a few times at home."

  There was a titter of agreement around the room. Within a few minutes the procedure was settled, with the Williamses doing their routine on the first opportunity, while the others agreed on the days when they would take turns being ready to move in.

  * * * *

  Sharon left the witness stand as John Williams approached. He answered “Yes” to the oath and sat down.

  Rooker went through Williams's credentials and then asked, “Would you describe how you went about securing the sample identified as Sample A."

  Williams looked at the judge. “On the morning of September sixth, Valerie—my wife—and I were at a table in the store where the defendant was sipping his coffee. We followed a script that we worked out a few days earlier, talking seriously, with some disagreements thrown in. The defendant finished his coffee and stood up. Valerie and I began to talk louder. The defendant walked away from us, and I saw him throw the cup into the trash container. I jumped up and began to argue with Valerie. She argued back. I grabbed my coffee container and plastic plate and napkin and walked quickly toward the trash container, talking loudly over my shoulder. She followed with our things, talking back to me. As we approached the trash container, the defendant backed away and we were able to crowd around the trash container, still arguing with each other. The defendant edged back toward the door of the coffee shop, and as he turned away and went out the door, Detectives Melendez and Maloney came in and blocked the defendant's view of Valerie and me. I reached into the trash container and found the defendant's coffee cup."

  Kluge's lawyer was on her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. A conclusion."

  "I agree with the defendant's lawyer, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said. “I'll clarify. You picked a cup out of the trash, but what made you think it was the defendant's container?"

  "It was crushed. I saw him crush his cup on the way to the trash. It was the only one crushed. The other cups on top
were Valerie's and mine. We marked them with our initials."

  "Were there other cups underneath?"

  "There was more material underneath, but none of them were crushed."

  "What did you do?"

  "I gathered all of the cups, mine, Valerie's, and the def—the crushed one, and put each one in a separate plastic evidence baggie. I labeled each baggie with my name and took them immediately to the sheriff's office in my custody."

  "What did Detectives Maloney and Melendez do?"

  "They photographed the inside of the trash container and the store, and we left."

  There ensued nearly an hour of the usual droning identification of exhibits, explanation of photographs, and verification of what lawyers call the “chain of custody,” the unbroken series of links between an event and a subsequent event, that verified that the crushed cup retrieved from the trash container originated with the defendant. Then Edwin Rooker told the judge, “I will recall Officer Lucelli."

  Ann Pine was on her feet. “Nobody from the laboratory?"

  "For reasons that will be apparent, not now."

  Kluge's attorney returned to her seat with a shrug.

  Sharon returned to the witness stand.

  "Officer Lucelli,” began Rooker, “did you see the results of the DNA testing on the substance on the crushed cup?"

  "Yes,” said Sharon calmly.

  "And was there a match between that substance DNA and the DNA found with the victim, Mary Olson?"

  "Objection,” cried Ann Pine. “Foundation?"

  "I'll link it up, Your Honor."

  The judge sighed. “Subject to linking up, I'll take it."

  Sharon looked at the defendant.

  Robert Kluge's lawyer sank down and was calm, chin on her left hand, elbow braced on the table.

  Sharon shook her head. “There was no match."

  * * * *

  Sharon had been crying when she called Tom Bernhardt with the news of the DNA results. An hour later she met him at the northside eatery Buca di Beppo, where they began with wine and continued with eggplant Parmigiana and chicken Marsala. All Sharon could talk about was how the test results had to be wrong.