The Battle of Jericho

by Walter Marks

  Maria turned to the girl. “How long have you been here?”

  “I don’t know,” she said in a tremulous voice. “About six months, I guess.”

  “How old are you now, honey?”

  “Sixteen…almost seventeen.” Rosario’s eyes filled with tears. “Maria,” she said softly. “I wanna go home…” She began sobbing uncontrollably. Maria held her and stroked her hair.

  “You take care of her,” Jericho said. “I’ll call for an ambulance. She needs to go to the hospital.”

  He walked to the door, then turned and looked carefully around the room.

  It looked like a typical teenage girl’s bedroom; pop posters on the wall, a Formica dresser with a TV on it.

  There was a ventilator shaft, about a foot-and-a-half square, but the obese Richman could never have squeezed through it. There was no other way out of the place. Jericho shook his head in disappointment.

  He called for an ambulance, then left the room and went to deal with Richman. When he entered the basement office, the sight of Richman turned his stomach.

  “You sick fuck!” he shouted at the sweating, squirming fat man, yanking fecklessly at his handcuffed wrists.

  “You’ve got the wrong idea,” Richman said. “It’s not what it looks like. The girl’s here voluntarily. You saw how nice her room is.”

  Jericho walked over to the open bathroom door. He looked in and saw a stall shower with Mickey Mouse door decals, a shelf holding votive candles and women’s perfume, and floral-patterned bath towels neatly folded and hanging on a rack.

  “This is for the girl’s…uh, personal use?” Jericho said.

  “Yes. As you can see, I made her life very comfortable.”

  “Did your wife know about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And she was fine with it.”

  “Hard to believe,” Jericho said.

  Richman smiled. “Detective,” he said, “there are all kinds of ways for a couple to make their marriage work.”

  “Sanford Richman,” Jericho said, “you’re under arrest for Felony Unlawful Imprisonment of a Minor, Third Degree Rape, Aggravated Sexual Abuse, and any other shit we can nail you with.”

  Jericho read him his Miranda rights.

  “I choose to remain silent,” Richman said. “Please uncuff me so I can call my lawyer.”

  “You can call from your jail cell,” Jericho replied.

  After Richman was taken away in a squad car, Jericho again did his hair-in-the-bathroom thing. Richman’s comb contained some nice Remy hair samples. In and of themselves they weren’t incriminatory, but they would certainly help build a murder case against Richman.

  Then Jericho thought again about the ventilator shaft. Maybe he’d missed something.

  Outside, he walked around to the back of the house to check where the shaft let out. He found a grate in the grass, a few feet behind the support pole holding the surveillance camera. He yanked it up with one hand — it wasn’t screwed down. So theoretically someone could have used the ventilator shaft to get in and out of the house undetected — but certainly not fat-ass Richman. Maybe Rosario could’ve wriggled out through it, but obviously she didn’t.

  So my ventilator shaft theory doesn’t nail Richman for the murder of his wife.

  Still, we found the imprisoned girl and freed her. At least that pervy bastard will go down for that.

  But did he kill Ann Richman? Yet to be determined.

  CHAPTER 58

  Maria held Rosario’s hand in the ambulance as they rode to Southampton Hospital. The girl had stopped crying and sat quietly with her eyes closed. Then she shook her head and said, “It’s my fault…it’s my own fault…”

  “What’s your fault, honey?”

  “All of this…I shouldn’t have gone there.”

  “Did that man force you to?”

  “Nobody forced me. I went because…I just made a huge mistake.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maria, please don’t be mad at me.”

  “I won’t,” Maria said, gently stroking Rosario’s hair.

  The girl’s eyes got teary and she sniffled. Maria took out her hankie. “Blow,” she said, like a mother to a child.

  Rosario did as she was told. Then she spoke haltingly.

  “See, I was miserable at home. I loved my mom, but my dad…he was horrible, always putting me down. Saying, like, my grades weren’t good enough, my clothes looked slutty, I played my music too loud…”

  “That’s how fathers get sometimes. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

  “But he was so mean,” Rosario said. “He made my life hell. And sometimes he hit me with his belt. I know I was being stupid, but I started going online, going to, like, chat rooms. I guess it was my escape. I met this guy, Mr. Richman. He was older, but he seemed to understand me. He told me I was wonderful, I was smart. I sent him my picture and he told me I was beautiful. He was like…I dunno…like the father I wished I had. Then he said maybe we should meet for lunch. I skipped gym class and met him at this fancy restaurant…I forget the name. But he told me — order anything you want. I remember saying what if I order all desserts? He said fine, a princess can have whatever she desires. A princess. Nobody ever called me that.

  “After lunch he invited me to see his house. He told me it was like a castle, where a princess should live. I went with him in his car. I don’t know — I trusted him. He just seemed so nice. When we got there I could see it really was a castle.”

  “Did you meet his wife?” Maria asked.

  “His wife…no, no. I guess she was out.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “He took me downstairs to his game room which was also his office. There was a pool table and he taught me how to play. I sucked but it was fun. Then he showed me his secret room, hidden behind his TV. It was all fixed up, for a teenage princess, he said. While I was looking around, he left, locking me inside.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I started yelling and screaming but it didn’t do any good. After a while he came back carrying a bunch of these schoolgirl uniforms and he made me put one on. He said it was a game and that I looked really cute. Then he told me he’d created a whole new life for me, a life I deserved, and I would soon get used to it.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. I was scared. And very mixed up.”

  “Honey, I don’t mean to get personal,” Maria said, “but…did he force you to have sex with him?”

  “No, no, no sex. He liked for me to sit on his lap and sometimes he’d read children’s books to me, like he was my father. Role playing, he called it. After a while I did get used to it, and I kinda liked being there. I had TV, a Kindle, a microwave — any food I wanted.”

  “What about, y’know, going to the bathroom and stuff?”

  “There’s a bathroom in the game room,” Rosario said. “Mr. Richman, he let me use it when he was there. It had all this neat stuff in it — bubble bath, fancy soap, scented candles. It was cool.”

  “What about…what about when he wasn’t around?”

  She hesitated then spoke with an embarrassed look. “Well…he…he left me a Porta Potty, with a nice padded seat. He’d empty it every morning.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  “It was all right,” she said. “And after a while — when he got to trust me, he’d even let me use the office bathroom when he wasn’t there. Like I told you — I kinda got used to everything.”

  “But you were a prisoner,” Maria said. “Didn’t you miss your friends, your school, your…family?”

  “Not really,” Rosario said after a pause. “And I was so happy not having my father on my case all the time.”

  Maria wanted to say “how about your mom?” but since Rosario’s mother was dead, she felt this wasn’t a good time to bring up the subject.

  She also knew Rosario’s father had gone back to Mexico. Maybe ther
e were other family members that needed to be notified, but she decided to wait on that too.

  “Rosario,” Maria said, “I’m sorry, but this doesn’t make sense to me. I mean, how you could accept…”

  “You said you wouldn’t get mad at me. I think you’re getting mad.”

  “I’m not mad, honey. I’m just trying to understand.”

  “Maria,” Rosario said, “I stayed because I wanted to. I know it sounds weird but…please don’t blame Mr. Richman.”

  The ambulance pulled up at the hospital entrance. There was a doctor, two orderlies, and a nurse standing by.

  The ambulance door opened and they gently set Rosario onto a gurney. As they wheeled her away Maria tried to follow, but the doctor said Rosario would be examined and then given a mild sedative so she could have a good night’s sleep. Maria could visit her in the morning.

  She wanted to continue questioning Rosario. She wondered about the inconsistencies in the girl’s story. Rosario said she’d been with Richman for six months, but Mrs. Ramírez said she’d been missing for two years.

  And it’s hard to believe Rosario was really okay with being locked up like that; isolated, made to dress up like a preteen schoolgirl, sitting on that disgusting man’s lap. And no sex? That also doesn’t seem plausible.

  Was this the classic Stockholm syndrome? Or was Rosario lying about what happened?

  And where was Richman’s wife in all this?

  The whole situation seemed improbable, until Maria remembered her criminal justice course on Kidnapping and Abduction. Elizabeth Smart, Amanda Berry, Jaycee Dugard — all girls abducted and imprisoned for years in houses where their captor’s wife or partner lived. And that depraved Austrian fiend, Anton Frizl, who held his daughter captive in a cellar apartment, raping her reportedly over 3,000 times, causing her to give birth to seven children, while his terrified wife never interfered.

  Rosario’s last statement kept resonating in Maria’s head. “Please don’t blame Mr. Richman.”

  CHAPTER 59

  An orderly drove Maria back to the station house. She knew tomorrow she’d be returning to visit Rosario, and she’d have the painful task of informing her of her mother’s death.

  Back at Headquarters Maria told Jericho and the Chief about her conversation with Rosario. She said Rosario had told her she’d met Richman in an Internet chat room.

  “That’s exactly what Richman told me,” Jericho said.

  “Rosario begged me not to blame Richman,” Maria said. “But there were holes in her story — discrepancies in the timeline. And Rosario claimed Richman didn’t make any sexual demands, which was hard to believe.”

  “She’s lying,” Jericho said. “My guess is Richman has some hold over her, and he made her promise to protect him.”

  “What kind of hold?” Krauss asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jericho said. “He could have threatened bodily harm or even her life. And psychologically, a person held in captivity can become totally submissive and used to following orders. At any rate, I’d say Richman told her exactly what to tell the police.”

  “When could he have done that?” Maria asked.

  “In the ten minutes or so before he let us into his house,” Jericho explained. “Remember, Richman said he was downstairs, just out of the shower, so he needed time to dress? Well, I looked in his bathroom and the bath towels were dry and neatly folded. There wasn’t a drop of water on the floor. The fact is, he was already dressed and he used the ten minutes to instruct Rosario on what to tell us. Her story was inconsistent because she was scared and couldn’t remember exactly what she was told to say.”

  A patrolman entered, interrupting them. “Excuse me,” he said. “Mr. Richman and his lawyer are in Room One, for the pre-arraignment interview.”

  The main interrogation room had been recently redesigned. In addition to the one-way viewing mirror, it now used two wide-angle surveillance cameras, each concealed in light switches on the walls. An omnidirectional condenser mic was bolted under a steel table.

  Jericho was seated at the table, with Richman and D. Everett Chang, Esq., sitting across from him.

  “Detective Jericho, I’m sure you’re aware Mr. Richman will be out on bail soon,” Chang said. “My client can afford whatever bond the judge sets.”

  “Thanks to Lehman Brothers,” Jericho said.

  Chang snorted disdainfully. “Mr. Richman is willing to be open and forthright in this interview because he has nothing to hide.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” Jericho said.

  “Before we proceed, let me say this,” Chang said. “If at any time the questioning becomes counterproductive to our case, I shall terminate the interview. Is that understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “My client has prepared a written statement which he will now read. Go ahead, Mr. Richman.”

  Richman took out a handwritten paper and cleared his throat.

  “I met Miss Santiago in an Internet chat room. We really hit it off. After conversing for a couple of weeks, we met for lunch. I invited her to my house and showed her my private bedroom, which I had fixed up for her in hopes that she’d stay. I told her she could leave whenever she wanted, but she said no, she was unhappy at home and she liked being with me. So she stayed…voluntarily.”

  Richman put down the paper.

  “That’s it, Detective,” Chang said. “And that’s also ‘it’ for your colleagues watching on closed-circuit TV.”

  “You say Rosario stayed voluntarily,” Jericho said. “But your locks on the doors prevented her from leaving.”

  “You don’t have to address that,” Chang said to Richman.

  “I don’t mind,” Richman said. “The locks weren’t to keep Rosario in, they were there to keep my wife out.”

  “You told me your wife didn’t mind.”

  “She didn’t.”

  “Then why the lock?”

  “It was part of our agreement,” Richman explained. “I didn’t want Ann and Rosario to meet, and Ann agreed. But I was afraid she might get curious.”

  “So you didn’t trust her.”

  “Not relevant,” said Chang.

  Richman was silent.

  “Did you know Miss Santiago was underage?” Jericho asked.

  “She said she was eighteen.”

  “She was sixteen.”

  “Detective,” Chang said, “according to the law, sexual misconduct charges against my client would indeed be valid, if…and I stress the word if, sex were involved. But since that wasn’t the case, which Miss Santiago will corroborate, her age is not at issue here. I’m sure Miss Santiago will confirm everything my client has told you.”

  “Mr. Richman — you told me your wife agreed to this arrangement,” Jericho said. “But did she agree willingly? Maybe in your marriage your wife was totally passive and under your control. Maybe you threatened her. Maybe at some point she just got fed up and threatened to call the cops.”

  Jericho waited a beat and then shouted, “Is that why you killed her?”

  Richman winced. Chang shot to his feet. “This interview is over.”

  Jericho stood up as well. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll see you this afternoon at the arraignment.”

  “Detective,” Chang said angrily, “you know your case is weak. The girl will testify she stayed with my client willingly and there was no sex.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Jericho said. “And the DA is adding another charge: Endangering the Welfare of a Child — Penal code 260.10.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Chang said. “Mr. Richman has not endangered this child.”

  “The DA thinks otherwise. He says the fact that she was locked in a room is prima facie evidence that she was endangered.”

  Jericho motioned to the guard. “Jim, take him back to his cell.”

  Chang spoke soothingly to his client. “Sanford, that’s only a misdemeanor. Not to worry.”

  “Sanford,” Jericho said harshly, “the penal
ty for that misdemeanor is one year in jail.”

  “Up to one year,” Chang said.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Jericho said to Sanford. “Within one week, some chubby-chaser who digs senior citizens will take you for his bitch.”

  Richman shuddered as he was escorted out of the room.

  Afterwards, Jericho went back to meet with the Chief and Maria.

  “We do have a problem,” Krauss said. “Unless the Santiago girl changes her story, we can’t prove sexual abuse.”

  “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Maria said. “Maybe I can get more out of her.”

  “In any case,” Jericho said, “the child endangerment charge will stick. Meanwhile, we’ll keep investigating.”

  Jericho paused before he spoke to both of them. “I’ve been thinking — what if Richman didn’t meet the girl in an Internet chat room? What if he got her from a sex trafficking ring?”

  “The Russian mob?” Maria said.

  Jericho nodded. “That would explain the leverage Richman had over Rosario. If she didn’t follow orders, Richman could tell the mob, and they’d take care of her, or kill her mother.”

  “I guess that’s possible,” Krauss said.

  “If a sex trafficking gang pimped Rosario out to Richman, then we can surely nail him on sex abuse and imprisonment charges.”

  “Jericho,” Maria said, “if Rosario was forced to work for the mob, she’d be afraid to admit that.”

  “See what you can get out of her,” Jericho said firmly.

  “I will.”

  “Not to change the subject,” Krauss said, changing the subject, “but regarding the Ann Richman case — Jericho, did you find any way her husband could have slipped out of his house without being seen on the surveillance cameras?”

  “No.”

  “But you still think Richman killed his wife?”

  Jericho pursed his lips and thought for a while. Finally he answered. “Yes. I still say he killed her — in a manner of speaking.”

  “How the hell do you kill someone in a manner of speaking?”

  “Simple,” Jericho said. “Hire a hit man.”